#smile era!roger x reader

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Currently in my Steve Rogers era🫶

GIFs of smiling Steve cuz he's a cute bean who's to be protected at all costs🩷🥹

[ramp-it-up]

Call Me Captain When I...

Summary: You were Steve's subordinate, but you'd met as friends. And Steve needs your help with something.

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of politics, flashbacks, groping while asleep, Not-so Inexpereinced-ish Steve, Dom Steve, Friends to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, pulling rank, uniform kink, talking in sleep, masturbation, sex toy, voyeurism, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, oral s ex (m receiving), raw p in v, intimations of female receiving oral.

A/N: This was supposed to be the conclusion to Greatest, but this popped in my head. This is set very soon after he first meets Sam and is still getting adjusted to the world. Also, I am not in the military and know nothing really of proper uniform or officer/subordinate address or etiquette. This is pure fantasy. Hope you like it. HBD Steve! 😁

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

-----

You woke up with a start, mouth dry, burning hot and seriously needing to pee. 

You weren’t sick; the cause of your discomfort was the 240 pound super soldier next to you. You looked over to see Steve Rogers’ sleeping face six inches away from yours on the chaise lounge of your sofa, the blue glow from your smart tv’s home screen bathing his face in eerie light. 

You allowed yourself two minutes to admire the man you had come to have a huge problematic crush on in such a short time.

You smiled to think of the first time you saw him in person as he wandered into the Information Technology Division of S.H.I.E.L.D., which you were running. 

------

He wasn’t in uniform, but who he was and his rank was unmistakable. Everyone rose when he entered. You watched him investigate the division by wandering around and looking at soldier’s workstation screens, reading files on desks, which was fine. The venerated Captain Steve Rogers had just about as high a clearance as anyone in the room.

You recognized the look on his face, a mixture of awe and earnestness, and something happened with your heart.

You couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to wake up, 70 years out of your own time. You watched his face, noting the anxiety, but mirroring his slight smile when he saw the book stacks at the rear of the room. Something like relief overtook his features. He scanned the room, calculating that the stacks went quite a way back into the facility, then he sized up the size of the troops in the division. 

You commanded 24 soldiers who helped you to oversee a good amount of basic historical, and quite a lot of classified information for SHIELD. You were too busy watching Steve’s face when his eyes found yours, and were caught off guard when he addressed you although you should not have been.

“Looks like you have quite the mission, Lieutenant.”

You snapped to attention and responded. 

“Yes, Sir. Information is key for the success of SHIELD, and we take pride in our work.”

“At ease.” 

Captain Rogers stood before you as you adjusted to parade rest. 

“I hear you do great work, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I need some help.”

“Sir?”

Steve huffed, annoyed at your formality. He looked around to see your entire division staring.

“Can we go into your office?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Once the door was closed, Steve had to address this first point, even though his body thrilled when you called him ‘Sir.’”

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. You and I are friends, aren’t we?”

At the dulcet tone in his voice, you looked him in the eye, although you remained at parade rest. You knew that your troops were looking through your window. Steve noticed that your blinds were open and went to close them, which irritated you. That would only arouse suspicion.

Steve quickly admired your body in your work greens, eyes scanning from your boots up your pants, which were tailored very well out of necessity, to your shirt as he marveled how your buttons stayed closed. He chuckled as he had the same problem himself.

Your eyes were on him as his made their way to your face.

“You said you needed something, Captain?”

He almost groaned at that address. He needed you, spread out on his bed, calling him Captain and begging him to fuck you. But he had to play it cool. 

“I have this problem. And only you can help me with it.”

Steve had no idea how much that sounded like a line, so he barrelled ahead. He needed you, and he knew it from the moment he saw you at Sam’s house party the night before. The fact that you introduced yourself as a librarian endeared you to him, and the kind way that you talked to him all night about historical events of the 20th and 21st century cemented your place in his heart. He even adopted Sam’s nickname for you, Libby the librarian.

“I need a tutor.”

He’d piqued your interest.

“Sir?”

This time his groan was audible. That cute little head tilt was driving him crazy. And your braids up in that neat braid bun. You were wound tight at work.He wanted to have them down, waving along your ass and hypnotizing like they were last night. He wanted to wrap them around his hand as he….

You were going to be the death of him. He cleared his throat.

“I need someone to bring me up to speed. Someone who can help me understand this brave new world we have here.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes just scanned his face. He continued talking to fill the void.

“I mean, I wake up, and everything is different, society, technology, women, hell, even the president…”

“You never dreamed we’d have a black president, did you?”

You were toe to toe with him now, an equal in the field of knowledge, superior to him in history and culture. Steve liked this feeling. He really needed you.

“Honestly. No. I’ve missed the history that would lead me there. That’s why I need you.”

You bristled slightly, straightening your posture again and looking at the wall. Steve caught the vibe.

“This is not a command. I’m coming to you as a new friend that I thought we both gained last night. I want help. I’m asking you. Not as my subordinate, but as a friend. Please, Libby.”

Steve’s earnest plea melted you on the inside. You gave up trying to keep him at arm's length. You knew it was not appropriate what you did last night in your bedroom as you thought of the conversation with him last night. His voice, his eyes, those lips. And you did not overlook that body beneath his button up shirt and khakis. 

But he’d made it clear that you were friends and you would rock with that. Besides, you wanted to help America’s number one soldier see all sides of what he was fighting for. 

He needed to see the truth.

“Alright. One evening a week. Thursdays good for you?”

You walked around your desk and grabbed a post it note and started writing.

Steve was elated and nodded until you looked up at him and he responded verbally.

“Yes.”

He kind of liked you in control. It might be that much more pleasureable to subdue you. He shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts.

“Great.” 

You tore off a note and handed it to him.

“Order these books. Have one read, doesn’t matter which, by this Thursday and meet me at Pete’s Deli at 5:30.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled at him and Steve thought he was going to kneel at your feet.

“Don’t thank me yet until you’ve survived one of my very serious debates.”

“Sounds grueling.”

“You have no idea.”

—---

Over the last four months, you and Steve debated, argued, went through periods of needing space from each other, and late nights texting about tons of topics and cultural events during “the ice years,” as Steve called them. It was almost like a marriage.

You’d graduated from books, to Ted Talks, to movies, to videos on tons of topics and Steve was developing quite the knowledge base. 

You were proud of him, he digested information, reasoned it out, and didn’t become a carbon copy of you, but a well informed, better Steve Rogers. 

And fuck all, that made him even hotter.

Now, you were moving to the popular culture portion of your tutoring, and the night before you’d started the 1980’s/Spike Lee movie portion of your lessons. 

You’d binged She’s Gotta Have It, School Daze, and fell asleep halfway through Do The Right Thing. Now you were trapped between the arm of your couch and a 240 lb heat generator super strong super soldier.

You inched out from under Steve’s thick thigh, which was thrown over your legs, and was about to be able to escape when he turned over, his hand grabbing your boob and his fingers skillfully finding your thickened nub.

“Thank God for the right nipple. Thank God for the left nipple…”

You froze, but then remembered that was a line from the movie, and continued trying to escape without waking Steve up. He couldn’t be held responsible for his subconscious.

“Libby, wanna suck your nipples…please..”

You froze again. Well this was a development. Steve’s subconscious was trying to slide.

“Call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…”

You managed to get up and you stood there, watching Steve, who was snoring now, and had no idea what he’d just said. You shook your head at the fact that he hadn’t learned the power of grey sweat pants.

In a daze, you walked to the bathroom and somehow ended up in the shower before you realized you had a guest. You were trying to process, and it was just a coincidence that your Leelo was in there. You’d be able to slake your hunger and clean up before he awoke.

Steve woke up, confused for a minute, and noticed that it was 4 am. 

He was on your couch with a Giant boner, and someone was in the shower. He stood up, stretched and went to your kitchen for a bottle of water when he heard you moan. 

Wanting to make sure that you were okay, Steve went to your slightly open bathroom door and got an earful.

“Ohhhh. Fuck, Captain, yessssss.”

Steve’s heart began to beat as he took a peek in at you through the clear glass of your shower, back against the wall as you held a sex toy to your pussy. The sight made him forget to breahe. The way you convulsed made his dick jump in his sweats. He rubbed himself to try and calm down, but your voice making those pretty sounds made him grab himself and chase friction against his clothes.

“Yes, Sir… would love to…suck… you…. offfff….fuck, Steve….!”

The sound of his name as you came made him feral and he hit his hand against the door frame. 

You stopped what you were doing as you looked toward the door. Steve used his best stealth tactics to go back to the couch, and that’s where he was when you came out of the bathroom in your robe.

“How much did you hear? Did you see anything?”

The way he was looking at you told you everything.

“I’m sorry, Steve. You were talking in your sleep, because of the movies. I got heated at what you said. Needed to relieve some tension. I understand if you want to stop meeting up. I’ve not been professional. Or a friend.”

“What did I say?”

“Hunh?”

Steve stood up and walked toward you. His voice was so deep. 

“What did I say when I was asleep?”

You gulped, but then you just said it.

“You said that you wanted to… suck my nipples and you said, ‘call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…’”

Steve was closer now. 

“That wasn’t because of the movies.”

His hand was above you on the wall and you were staring up into his impossible blue eyes, which seemed to be shining in the dim light.

“It’s what I want to happen.”

“S-steve?”

Steve’s hand went to your hair, loosening the bun that you’d made for the shower.

“But I figured you only wanted to be friends, y’know?

“We are friends. That’s what you established when you came to my office…”

Steve fisted your braids in his hand and drew your head toward his. 

“I needed your help, true. But I was trying to get close to you without knowing how to make my move. Didn’t think you wanted me too, but what I just saw you doing in that bathroom. What I heard you saying, Libby…”

He stopped, his lips mere centimeters from yours.

“Christ, do you know how that ruined me?”

You whimpered in your throat and closed the distance between you.

If a supersoldier could slam someone against the wall gently, that is what Steve Rogers did to you as his lips and tongue explored yours. Your hands found his hair and tugged as he pulled yours, and your body pressed against his.

Steve pressed soft kisses all along your face. When he finally reached your lips, he teased you, barely touching them, causing you to whimper. He deepened the kiss, his tongue licking at yours, daring it to follow. Your mind was completely blown, and when you separated for air, Steve asked a question.

“So. Can you call me Captain when I suck your nipples? Sir when you suck me off?”

Your eyes met his and you made a silent agreement.

“Oh Yes, Sir.”

“Hmmmmmm.” 

Steve closed his eyes and groaned.

“Good girl. Correct answer.”

Steve kissed you again and this time his hands explored your body too. Your skin was moist and hot from the shower, and he ignited it even more. You writhed against him, brushing your nipples against his chest, causing them to swell and thicken. He groaned into your mouth, and it sent a pool of desire straight to your core. His hard cock pressed into your thigh insistently, and you reached into his sweats to wrap your hand around the rigid length of it.

“Jesus….” 

Steve’s ragged breath huffed into your face as his hand found your breasts and weighed them, rolling each of your nipples between his thumbs. You continued to stroke him, causing his hips to jerk up into your palm, beads of moisture helping to lubricate your hand as you stroked him as best you could, struggling to grip his girth. 

“Is this gonna fit in my mouth? In my pussy?”

Steve growled and kissed you again, his fingers parting your robe and dipping between your thighs. You shivered as first, one impossibly long thick finger slipped inside your slick heat, then two.

“We’ll make it work. You are so wet. So ready. And that mouth. If I can just experience you trying, I’d struggle not to blow my load, Libby. M’ struggling right now with just your hand.” 

“Let’s go to my bed.”

“Give me one now.”

“But-”

“What did I just say Lieutenant? Who is in command?”

Lust rocked your body at Steve pulling rank. You whimpered again.

“You are, Captain.”

“That’s right. Now stay here, and take this like the soldier you are.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve rewarded you with a kiss and then trailed more down your neck, moving south. He paused, his breath warming the skin over one of your swollen peaks. You were in agony.

“Captain, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please let me feel your lips.”

“As you wish.” 

You writhed as he kissed everywhere except where you wanted him. You tugged on his hair, which did nothing to dissuade him from his mission of driving you crazy. 

“I love that you are so desperate for me, Lib. So damn attractive.”

He hovered over your nipple as he teased it with the hot air from his mouth, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Captain!”

Steve added his thumb to the mix of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He kept the pace consistent, no matter how much you tried to move against his fingers. Chuckling, he finally settled his lips around your nipple and hallowed his cheeks as he drew you into his mouth, causing your pussy to shudder to gush over his fingers as you came.

“C-captain!”

“Yes, Doll?” 

“N-need you to fuck me. Please.” 

“Who’s in command?” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth. 

“You, Captain, I—” 

Steve withdrew his fingers from your cunt.

“Can you call me Sir first?”

You looked into his eyes and suddenly you wanted nothing more. You dropped to your knees in your living room, not caring how the hardwood felt on your knees. Relishing it, even.

Steve pushed your robe off your shoulders and it pooled around you as you watched him take off his t-shirt and pull down his sweats and boxers. You practically drooled at the sight of the thick tan staff in front of your face.

You watched Steve’s thick fingers grab the base of himself and squeeze and you looked up to see him clenching his jaw.

“You’ are trying to make me blow my load on your face with those eyes of yours, Lieutenant. Maybe I should ask you again. Who is in charge here?” 

“You Sir. Let me taste you, please?”

You were topping him with a request, but Steve let it slide as his cock slid past your lips and tongue.

“So fucking hot. Isn’t that what the kids say?”

Steve took your head in his hands as you put your hands behind your back and let him fuck your face. You hummed an acknowledgement as Steve groaned above you. Your pussy was sopping wet at this point.

Steve let go of your head and braced himself against the wall as he warned you through clenched teeth.

“Do you want this? Because… it….fuck… here it comes….”

You prepared yourself and swallowed quite a lot of Steve’s cum, which tasted surprisingly good. You moaned your approval as he gave you his spend.

He grasped himself again and pulled his still hard cock out of your mouth as you grinned up at him. 

“I could do that all day, Doll." He licked his lips as he looked down at you.

"Where is your bedroom again?”

You smiled and took his hand as he helped you to stand, and he followed you to your bedroom, nodding his head toward your California king.

“Get on the bed.”

Steve watched as you obeyed and stroked himself. Then, he kneeled beside you and ran his fingers along your body.

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this.”

You rolled under his touch, desire consuming you.

“Please…Steve”

Steve sighed, but secretly thrilled that his dream was coming true. You were begging him for it.

“I thought you knew what this was, who was in charge…”

He rolled your nipple and then pinched it when you said,

"You are, Sir!"

Steve rolled his big body over yours, supporting himself with his arms over your head. His cock nudged your wet slit, and he swore. 

“So damn good, Doll.” 

You moved your hips, trying for friction, or the goal, penetration, desperate now. 

“Please, Steve, don’t make me wait. I need you. I’m yours.”

Steve stilled, and looked into your eyes.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that…that you’re mine?” 

His tongue licked at your bottom lip before he kissed you. 

“I’m not letting you go.” 

His hips started moving, sliding his rigid member through your folds before testing your entrance. His eyes stuttered closed at the resistance there and at the way you slowly yielded open for him. Your eyes rolled back as he stretched you out like never before, fully sliding into you.

You both gasped as he bottomed out, and you gazed at each other, getting lost in the moment. You knew you would never be the same as you met Steve’s thrusts and he didn’t break eye contact as he stroked you to the most mind-numbing orgasm you’d ever had, embarrassingly quickly. 

Steve stroked lazily for a few minutes before he pulled out, turned you over and admired your back, tenderly kissing your shoulder blades.

“You are so beautiful. Everywhere.”

He lined up to your sopping wet pussy and slowly breached you again.

“What is the proper response, Lieutenant?”

“To what, Sir?”

Steve’s head dropped so that his hair brushed your neck and his tongue traced your spine, causing you to arch your back as he slid all of the way home.

“To the statement of fact that you are beautiful. Everywhere.”

His voice was a desperate groan, and so sexy.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, and kept your mouth open, searching for air because you almost forgot how to breathe.

Steve smacked your ass.

“That’s not correct.”

He was going hard now, and his voice was strained. He was close.

“Y-yes, Sirrrrrrr!”

You came again, pussy clutching Captain America’s cock. Steve became the most profane you’d ever heard him.

“Feels so fucking good, Doll. Love this ass, and this tight, wet, pussy. Fuckkkkk!”

Steve roared as you felt his hot ropes of cum spurt inside you, triggering yet another orgasm.

“Oh my goddd!”

You collapsed and Steve moved so that you were still connected, but on your sides.

“We’ve got to finish the movie. Need to find out what happens with Mookie…”

"Yes, Sir."

But Steve was falling asleep, and you looked over your shoulder at the super soldier who looked more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. You kissed his arm, which was wound around you, and which was holding you tight.

—--

The next Thursday, you were in your office when you heard a commotion. You looked out of your window as you saw Captain Rogers striding toward your office, this time in uniform, his hat under his arm. You closed your blinds and went to stand outside the door of your space as he moved nearer to you.

Damn. You should never have told Steve how much him being in uniform affected you.

“Captain Rogers, this is a surprise.”

You kept your eyes straight ahead as you stood at attention and he moved around you.

“I need your help again, Lieutenant. In your office. Now.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“At ease.”

You relaxed as Steve put his hat on your desk, advanced upon you, putting his hands on your waist as he kissed you silly while easily lifting you and placing you on your desk. He backed up to take a look at you as you crossed your legs.

“I’m here to inspect your uniform today, Lieutenant. From this view, it looks splendid.”

“Thank you, Sir.” 

You straightened your torso and pulled on your jacket, but you knew that he was speaking about the fact that you’d worn a skirt today, as he requested.

“I’m interested to see if you followed all instructions.”

Steve’s hands were on your thighs and he pulled them apart and got on his knees before you. He smiled and licked his lips as he saw that you were in fact, not wearing any underwear. He also could smell your arousal and opened his mouth to breathe it in. He was transfixed. You snapped him out of it when you asked him a question.

“You said you needed help, Sir?”

He looked up at your cocky grin.

“Yes, lieutenant. Need you to help me with a new term I came across today in my reading. Cunnilingus?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Of course Sir.”

It was all you could say as Captain Steve Rogers inspected your uniform from underneath your skirt.

------

Read Mood.

Reblog if you liked it!

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson

I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!

Tony Stark

- When you’re angry with Tony, he’s a little stunned. He’s used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tony’s mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problem—but not with you. You mean too much to him, and he can’t stand the idea of pushing you further away.

- He doesn’t immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. He’ll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping you’ll crack a smile. When that doesn’t work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, “This is why I avoid real feelings, you know?” as he fumbles through an apology. He’s not used to admitting fault, but with you, he’s learning to swallow his pride.

- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. He’ll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gesture—a private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech he’s been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit he’s bought just for the occasion. He’s not subtle, and he knows it, but he’ll do anything if it means a smile from you.

- When the big gestures don’t work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe it’s a handwritten letter he’s scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things aren’t okay between you two. It’s raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that he’s willing to put the ego aside for you.

- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesn’t let go. He’ll joke that he’s not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about “testing his limits,” but there’s something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and he’s willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tony’s found a softness he didn’t know he had, and he’s not going to risk losing it.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers doesn’t like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes you’re angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it won’t escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe it’s too soon. Steve’s patient, though; he’ll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.

- While you’re cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. He’s his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. He’ll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. He’s willing to bend if it’s what’s needed to bridge the gap between you.

- When he approaches you again, he’s soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justifications—just him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises he’ll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.

- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book you’re reading. Steve understands that sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. He’ll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.

- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and he’s fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha doesn’t like it when things are off between you two, but she’s used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesn’t care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But you’re different. You’re not just anyone; you’re someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.

- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, “Are we good?” as if it’s not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. She’s not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. It’s clear she’s trying, even if she doesn’t always have the words.

- To make it up to you, Natasha doesn’t go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. She’ll take you to a place she loves—a quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden café she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. She’s careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, she’s letting you know how much she values you.

- Natasha doesn’t usually do comfort, but she’ll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe she’ll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows you’ve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesn’t always show it. Little by little, she’ll find ways to let you know that she’s there, committed to making things right.

- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. She’s not big on words, but she’ll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natasha’s fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, she’s even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. She’ll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.

Bruce Banner

- When you’re angry with Bruce, he’s instantly anxious, worried he’s done something terribly wrong. Conflict isn’t his strong suit, and he’s painfully aware of his capacity for anger. He’s cautious, almost timid, when he realizes you’re upset, giving you space and time. He doesn’t want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.

- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if he’s ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though he’s scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that he’s willing to work through whatever the issue is.

- When he finally comes to you, Bruce’s apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. He’ll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and there’s an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. He’s not perfect, but he’s open to listening and doing better.

- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so he’ll show up with something that reflects his feelings for you—maybe a small book he thinks you’d love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. He’s shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but it’s his way of showing he cares.

- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. He’s careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, “You’re way too patient with me,” but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.

Clint Barton

- When Clint realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He can’t believe he’s managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. He’ll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he’s got some work to do.

- Clint’s never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, he’ll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. He’ll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers others’ feelings the way he should. It’s a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.

- Once he’s apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. He’ll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and he’s shameless about using it if it means making things right. He’s determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.

- When his jokes don’t quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. He’s a guy who pays attention to the little things, so he’ll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that it’s the small gestures that can speak volumes.

- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everything’s back to normal. He’ll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesn’t take his relationships for granted, and he’s grateful you’re in his life, even when he messes up.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky’s heart sinks when he sees that you’re angry. He’s used to pushing people away, and now that he’s got you, he’s terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Bucky’s first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you. He’ll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.

- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, he’s hesitant, nervous, almost as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. He’s used to running, and being with you is the first time he’s tried not to.

- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. He’s nervous about whether it’ll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.

- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. He’ll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that he’s there, without needing to say much, because he’s always believed that actions speak louder than words.

- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. He’s more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if he’s afraid to let go. He knows he doesn’t have many people he can count on, but he’s grateful that he can count on you. Bucky’s still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.

Sam Wilson

- Sam immediately notices when you’re angry, and his first instinct is to find out what’s going on. He’s straightforward and doesn’t like tension hanging in the air, so he’ll ask, “Alright, what did I do?” in his calm, genuine way, hoping you’ll be willing to talk it out. He’s good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.

- Sam listens intently when you explain what’s bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. He’s respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where you’re coming from. He’s not the type to dodge blame; if he’s at fault, he’ll own up to it right away. There’s no defensiveness, no excuses—just an honest desire to make things right.

- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outing—something where the two of you can connect and have fun. He’s all about shared experiences, so maybe it’s a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure he’s planned just for you. He’s careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.

- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. He’ll look you in the eyes and say something like, “I don’t like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.” He’s genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.

- Once everything’s back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure you’re laughing and relaxed. He’s always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Sam’s presence is solid, reassuring, and he’ll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.

Peter Parker (Tom H.)

- Peter’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows what’s going on, hoping you’ll give him a chance to explain.

- When you tell him what’s bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. He’s genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. He’s never been great at handling relationship tension, but he’ll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.

- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. He’ll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtful—perhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. He’s earnest, a little shy about it, hoping you’ll see how much effort he’s putting in.

- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows he’s a bit of a dork, but he doesn’t mind if it means cheering you up. Peter’s all about making you feel comfortable and loved.

- When you finally forgive him, Peter’s face lights up with relief. He’ll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how he’s “the luckiest person in the world” to have someone like you. He’s young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that you’re not mad anymore. To Peter, you’re his world, and he’ll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.

Stephen Strange

- When Stephen realizes you’re angry with him, he’s a bit taken aback. He’s used to being right and doesn’t often see things from others’ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.

- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. He’s intelligent and analytical, but that doesn’t always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that he’s not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.

- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.

- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but he’s willing to try if it means keeping you close. He’ll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.

- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, “Guess I need to work on my bedside manner,” but there’s genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows he’s lucky to have you, and he’s determined to keep learning how to love you better.

Thor Odinson

- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s naturally cheerful and doesn’t take most things too seriously, so the idea that he’s done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.

- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s not one to overthink things, but he’s deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. He’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. He’ll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or he’ll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.

- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. He’s genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what he’s learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but it’s all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.

- When you finally forgive him, Thor’s smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. There’s nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and he’s not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that he’ll try to be a little more mindful in the future.

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@thezombieprostitute

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@bval-1

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3 part 4

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything��s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

[s0urw00lf]

All the time

Bucky Barnes x reader

The three times you called his name. The one time he answered.

1940’s era: James Barnes

Y/n l/n had regrettably found herself on a date with a something shed be called unladylike for saying asshole. To be fair her mother wouldn’t let her turn the man down, ready to get her married off before the war. She was currently at the movies sitting beside him as his arm draped sloppily over her shoulder and much to close to her breast for her liking all the while he continuously yelled for the movie to start. People all over the theater were ‘shhh’ing him but he didn’t care as he continued on, making y/n want to melt into her seat with embarrassment. You heard from behind you “hey, wanna show some respect?” Someone whispered. You turned around to see a small frail man, you mouthed ‘I’m sorry” and he just nodded back. Again “who cared, Just start the cartoon” he said. Y/n sighed about to get up and leave until the small man spoke up again “hey you wanna shut up?” At that point Tommy heard him and turned towards him.

Somehow you found yourself in the alleyway trying to pull Tommy off of the guy. “Tommy that’s enough” you said pulling his arm, he pushed you down hard making you hit your head on a rock and you felt the blood immediately pool down your face not fully aware of what was going on anymore, until you were pulled up softly “you okay ma’am” you were asked. “Yes, yes I’m fine he needs More help than me” you said pointing to the fight, not even looking at the man that helped you up, more focused on the blood running down your face. You soon saw Tommy walk past you and grabbed your wrist firmly “come on y/n” he said angrily. You struggled against his grip “let me go you pig” you said as you clawed at his hand trying to separate it from your wrist. He didn’t budge “let go of me you disgusting pig” you cried putting as much resistance as you could.

Tommy finally turned and gave you the worst bitch face and forcefully pushed you back as he let go. You fell to the muddy ground, and tears formed in your eyes when you looked down and seen how dirty yourself and your dress was. The two men had seen the whole interaction and rushed to help you up. “Thanks” you said not making eye contact with either as you tried to make yourself a bit more presentable even though those stains weren’t gonna come out without some stern washing. You finally looked up when the shorter man spoke “no thank you for trying to help me. I’m Steve by the way. Steve rogers” he said. You nodded “y/n l/n, wish we could’ve met on better terms” you said with a small laugh. “Steve seems to find trouble everywhere he goes. James Barnes” the other man spoke. You finally took a good look at him and you let out a gasp when you made eye contact with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen.

He towered over you and his brunet hair only heightened his handsome features. “Oh, uh yeah I mean it happens right?” You replied trying to cover up how shocked you were at his handsome face. He smiled and nodded, making you melt a little. Suddenly you’d felt a little more self conscious. “Hey Steve, how about you go get cleaned up and I’ll walk miss y/n here home.” James says. Steve looked up at him in confusion “why, we goin somewhere?” He asked. James nodded “the future” he said smiling and handed Steve a pamphlet. Steve studied the pamphlet before nodding and making his way home with a nod to you and a pat on James’s back. James led you back to the sidewalk and you began to get dirty looks from people passing by, making you even more uncomfortable and self conscious .

James luckily noticed and started up conversation in hopes to distract you, “So, what where you doing here with, and excuse my language, an asshole like that” he asked. She sighed “my mom, she wants me married or at least in the process of getting married. She’s getting old and my pa passed some time ago, she doesn’t think I can make it on my own.” You said bitterly. You looked at him taking in his attire for the first time “you getting shipped out?” You asked. He nodded “Sargent James Barnes, shipped out to England first thing tomorrow morning” he said standing proud. You nodded lowering your head to watch your shoes as you walk feeling a bit disappointed because he and his friend were the first decent men you’d come across in all of Brooklyn.

“James Barnes”

—————

Winter soldier era

after being let out of cyro for the first time in decades the soldier was led to a morally grey room, by the same man with round glasses shed seen before she went into the cyro. Aside from the table and two medal chairs, the room was empty much like the rest of the facility.

The only difference from the rest is there was a lingering presence in the darkest corner of the room. All she could see was the shining of something silver. She made no face, showed no sign of weakness, because she couldn’t, she’d been erased of everything. Fear included. But she stayed on high alert, ready to defend herself and her boss. “Sit” zolo demanded.

She took a stealthy seat, not making any noise as she did so, not even as her boot made contact with the ground on the other side of the chair. She stared at the man who had also taken a seat in front of her. “You have been assigned a new partner, it he has been made to match your every move as if it was your own. You fit together like a puzzle.” The man stated.

She nodded letting the man know she understood. “Step out soldat” the man demanded. At the corner of her eye she’d seen it, the smoothest movement as the figure slipped out of the darkness and into the light. “Meet the winter soldier” said zolo. She slowly turned her head meeting the steel blue eyes. ‘Barnes’ the name had echoed in her head but she was careful not to let her expression shift. She looked back to zolo only to see him eyeing the herself and the soldier carefully. She chose not to make it known. “Do we have a mission?” She asked, voice hoarse from not being used in so long.

“You do” he said and smiled his sickening smile. A file was placed in front of her, the soldier came to stand behind her so he could see, she almost felt at ease. She opened the file only to be met with a photo of a blonde haired blue eyed man. Captain ‘Steve rogers’ America. “What do you want us to do?” The man finally spoke behind her. His voice deep and hoarse as well. “Find him. Bring him alive. Beat him to the brink of death if you have to. But. Bring. Him. Alive.” He demanded. The pair nodded in understanding, before bing dismissed.

as they made their way to the jet and got stocked up on weapons and ammo the name ‘Barnes’ kept running through her head. So much so that it slipped out of her mouth.

“Barnes”

—————-

Fatws era

The last time you’d come face to face with james it was after the thanos war, you’d lived with nat while you were figuring things out before then you’d been snapped and now you’re living close toSam’s sister Sarah, helping her out with the boys. On this particular day you had walked into Sarah’s house in search of some flour, as you had ran out some days ago, “hey sara-“ you called but stopped yourself as your eyes landed on an all to familiar shield in the hands of Sarah’s boys. “Hey where’d you-“ she began to question but the oldest shushed her and pointed to the couch. Y/ns brows furrowed as she looked only to see that all too familiar face, obviously just now waking up. She ushered the boys away, but was quick to take the shield before they slipped too far out of her reach. “Hey, I uh- i didn’t know that you were here” she said awkwardly. “I just got here yesterday. I didn’t know you lived here” he said as he sat up from his laying position. “Oh no no. I don’t live here. Like here as in this house, I’m neighbors with Sarah.” You said shaking your head.

All he did was smile at you in amusement, making your cheeks heat up. “Uh well i only came to get something, I’ll be out of here soon” you said slowly backing away into the kitchen. Helping yourself to the flower you’d initially came to get. As you passed him again, he looked lost in thought so you cleared your throat, once again catching his attention. “Uh i live next door, if you uh- ever wanna come by and talk things over” you said nervously picking at your fingers. He smiled that charming smile that had you swooning since day one and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind” he said. You nodded and backed away from the room and out of the door you used to enter the house.

a while had gone by since your interaction with James and if you’re being honest, you are really disappointed because you were looking forward to seeing him again. You are about to pack up for bed when a knock on your door broke you out of your daydream. You went to cautious because old habits die hard, you open the door to come face-to-face with James Buchanan Barnes. “Oh, hey I wasn’t expecting you” you’d said stupidly before you could think. You were totally expecting him, hoping and praying for him to knock on your door. “If im gonna be honest i want going to. Last time we’d seen each other we left off on a kiss and a barely confessed ‘I love you’. Sam told me not to let that go again.” He said sincerely. “ Well, Sam was right. Ever the wingman, no pun intended” you said letting out a laugh, as did he. Before either of you could make another remark, Bucky rushed forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of longing and warmth, happiness flooded you like you just took your first drink of hot chocolate on a chilly winter morning. The two of you separated breathing heavily

“my Bucky Barnes.”

“My Y/n L/n”

[snowywolf1005]

ASL X MOTHER READER

Sabo finds out his mother death.

Two years ago, Sabo and Koala came back from their trip, and they're returning to Baltigo. When they went inside, they saw people running in the hallways.

Sabo doesn't know what's going on. "Oh, chief of staff! You came at the right time!"

"Come to the situation room now!"

"The Paramount War between the Navy and the whitebeard pirate has ended!" Everyone was reading about the outcome of the Summit War of Marineford.

"A kaiju was Paramount War?!" Everyone was shocked, "it says shin godzilla, use atomic breath, and blast the war before dapeare"

"The navy has a lot of casualties, too. Seems like it was a hard battle as expected."

"What about ivan-san?! Is she alright?!"

"It doesn't say she died or anything"

"The one who died in the war is..."

"(L/N)... (Y/N)..."

Sabo heart dropped when he heard that name.

"What?! (Y/N) the devil child?! Nobody heard from her!"

"Yeah, it said... she died from protecting fire fist ace and Straw Hat luffy."

"But more importantly, Dragon-san, look..."

"Is it true?! Is straw hat luffy your son?!"

"Hm? Yes, he is." Said dragon, everyone was shocked. Sabo picked up the newspaper and saw her face, her smiling face. Sabo eyes went wide, and he began to remember.

"I'm gonna become a pirate... and defeat others and become infamous! It'll be the only proof of my life! It doesn't matter if all people in the world reject me or despise me!"

Sabo started to remember ace voice.

"A boy would be the son of royal. But you, sabo. Shall be mine."

He rember his mother voice, and rember how she sang him lullaby. Sabo slams the desk as he begins to tear up. "Sabo-kun, what's wrong?! You're acting strange!" Koala asks.

"I can't believe that Ace was Gold' Roger's son... and (Y/N) was his step mom..."

"It says that luffy was also his (Y/N) stepmother..."

"Did you guys know?! They say Akainu punched a hole right through her body! (Y/N) was the government want a hands-on."

Sabo cries and cries when he remembers another memory.

"We can become brothers if we exchange this cup of sake!" Said ace.

"Brothers?! Really?!" Luffy asks.

"When we become pirates, we might not be on the same ship, but our brotherhood will always be with us! So, from now on, we're brothers!"

"Yeah!"

"Are you alright, sabo?!" Hack asks, sabo still tearing up, then he let out a scream, yelling.

"MAMA!!!!!"

"Sabo-kun!"

"Sabo!"

'Now I know... the one who died wasn't some unknown person... she wasn't just a threat in the pirate era that needed to be eliminated! Or be the world government slave!' Sabo thought, remembering all the memories of his mother.

"Sabo, welcome home!"

"(Y/N) is my... mother!"

A few years passed, and sabo went his mother grave, with much flowers and notes on them.

"I finally... managed to get here... mom." sabo put the flower down, then he took out some newspaper. " Look at this. Luffy started to make his way to become the king of the pirate again. And ace join in, too."

"It's so ironic. Since you've been gone, the old memories keep recurring to me vividly. I now belong to the Revolutionary Army."

"My colleague, ivankov, told me what happened in marineford in detail. And... how... you sacrifice yourself."

"I guess you, luffy, and Ace are mad at me." Sabo started to cry, "I couldn't go save you... I'm sorry! I wish... I wish I could've seen you again while you were alive! I'm gonna inherit your will!" He said.

"Luffy and ace is our family!" Sabo, stand up and walk out.

Now, sabo knows about his mother past and her home. His goal is to find her home before the government finds it.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

I Thought I Lost You- Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve had thought he lost you in the 40s but maybe he didn’t

Work count: 1,821

Steve was from a different time, and a different era than the one he was in now, and things were a lot different. Sure there were the big obvious differences with technology and fashion, but it was also the little differences.

One difference that seemed to baffle Steve, was the difference in dating and relationships. There was no holding doors open, writing love letters, coming to the door to pick up a girl, there didn’t even seem to be any flirting anymore. From the stories Kate, Wanda, Nat and Maria had told him, the standards of romance and making a woman feel special was pretty much nonexistent.

Steve was always the butt of the joke among his fellow team mates about those types of things. Being a virgin, or not getting the ladies back in the day, but it didn’t bother him really, and he laughed along with them. He didn’t mind these jokes because he knew the truth, and he held it close.

Keeping his life as private as possible had always been important to Steve, but unfortunately when he came out of the ice, it seemed his whole life was on display, well, except you. He felt relieved when he learnt that no one knew about you.

He tried to search for you but finding nothing, he assumed you were dead. As dark as it sounds, that brought Steve some happiness.

Your likely death and anonymity meant that Steve could keep you in his heart, and that you were his to treasure forever. Unfortunately he had no photos of you, you existed purely in his heart, mind, and if he was lucky, his dreams. He knew he’d lost you, and he was learning to live with that.

Steve thought about you often, especially times like this. Sitting on the bus, looking out the window at the people and the places, how his home had changed so much.

The faces seemed to blend a bit when the bus was moving, but when it came to a stop, he could see things clearly. That’s when a familiar face seemed to pop out in the crowd.

This wasn’t the first time Steve had fancied he might have seen you in a crowd, but this time when his head whipped back and he caught a glimpse of your smile, he was sure it was you.

“Stop! Stop the bus!” Steve yelled, bolting out of his seat, running to the driver before the light could turn green again.

“Buddy, I’ve got a route to keep here.” The driver explained.

“I know, sir, but please I need to get off the bus, please.” Even in his panic, Steve still managed to be polite.

“Okay, sure thing.” The driver rolled his eyes, probably not wanting to deal with the hysterics.

Leaping off of the bus, Steve ran in the direction he saw you, apologising as he bumped into people. Running past stores, cafes and restaurants, looking into each one to see if you might be there.

He began to lose hope of finding you, until he caught a glimpse of shining blue. Whipping his head, he saw it, the hair comb he’d once given you as an anniversary present. Steve worked every odd job he could to get it for you, even Bucky helped him out with the last bit of money so he could finally afford it.

You’d walk past that second hand store together all the time, stopping each time to look at the comb. Delicately placed blue gems, that you always told him looked like a bouquet of blue stars. He knew it was you, and he knew if was your comb.

Everything in him wanted to run in there and sweep you off your feet, but he was paralysed, fighting with himself. I mean it couldn’t be you, but it was you, maybe a granddaughter, but the way you smiled and that little scar on your cheek.

As he saw you about to turn to face him, he bolted. Steve needed a second opinion.

*****

If there was anyone who could help him, it would be Bucky. Though you were Steve’s girl, the three of you were inseparable together, you were like Buckys little sister.

Running through the compound to find his friend earned him some strange looks, but he didn’t care, he needed Buckys help.

“Bucky?! Are you in there?!” Steve knocked loudly and shouted for his friend.

“Hold your horses, punk! I’m coming, I’m coming.” He heard Bucky yell from his ensuite.

Opening the door, Bucky was met by a worried-faced Steve. He and Steve had known each other a long time, and he’d never seen him look like this before.

“Steve, what is it?” His friend asked him, great concern lacing his voice.

“Y/N, it’s y/n… I-I’m pretty sure I found her.” Steve worryingly confesses.

Hearing her name after so much time, Buckys eyes light up with hope, while his mouth drops open in surprise, simply staring at his friend. It sounded crazy, but Bucky knew Steve well enough to know that he was being honest about this.

“Lets go then.” Bucky confidently decided as he grabbed his jacket and made Steve show him the way.

*****

“There she is.” Steve announced to his friend as they stood outside the cafe.

Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes, it really was you. Much like Steve, Bucky had also tried to track you down and similarly believed you to be dead, but there you stand, perfectly alive and young.

“It really is her.” Bucky said, both shock and wonder laced in his voice as he turned to his friend.

“Come on, we need to see her.” Bucky decides, grabbing Steve by the bicep as he pushes Steve through the cafe doors.

“No, Buck, no.” Steve protests like a child, but Bucky wouldn’t have it, as he dragged the blonde to the front counter where you were wiping the bench.

Looking up to see them standing there, it took all of your will power not to break down, as you put on your best customer service voice.

“Hey there. Would you guys like a table or take away?” You asked, trying your best to keep your voice level.

Your reaction to seeing them visibly hurt both of the men, they knew it was you, it had to be. Why were you lying to them?

“Y/N, doll, it’s me, it’s us, Steve and Bucky. I know we look a little different but it’s us.” Steve told you, hoping you just didn’t recognise them, but you did.

Of course you recognised them, how could you not? When Steve went under at the end of the war, you thought your love was gone and that you would never have to hide your immortality from him, it both crushed and relieved you. But when he came out of the ice, you cried and cried; your love was back but you knew you couldn’t have him, he couldn’t know the curse that had been given to you while he was away. To see them both now filled you with that same delight and fear as it did when you first heard Steve had resurfaced.

“That’s not my name, I think you’ve got the wrong girl there, I’m sorry.” You tried to politely brush him off, pointing to your name tag of your new alias.

Hearing this broke the boys even more, and their dejected faces broke you some more too.

“No! No, you’re y/n! It’s her Buck, it’s her.” Steve began to panic, turning to his friend with tears.

“I know, come on let’s go.” He told his friend, trying to calm him as he walked out with Steve before they could make anymore of a scene.

As Bucky walked his hysterical friend out, he caught your eye and saw the sadness and shame in your face. You looked at each other and it felt like your secret was revealed.

It crushed you to see Steve like that, but you had to.

******

It took Bucky an hour to calm Steve down once they got back to the tower, he was pacing and ranting and crying. Steve was so confused and so hurt, he knew it was you and he knew that you recognised him. Steve needed you back more than ever.

“You need to go talk to her, one on one. She knows you, but she’s scared, Steve. Go back tonight when they close and woo her with your awkward asthmatic charm, that some how got her in the first place.” Bucky encouraged his friend.

“Heh, thanks Buck. I’ll let you know how it all goes.” He thanked his friend as he wiped the tears from his face.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned as he reached the door, turning to his friend.

“Get our y/n back?” He asked, his voice lightly breaking as tears seemed to pool in his eyes.

A hopeful smile broke out onto Steve’s face as he turned to open the door, leaving to get you back.

*****

Walking into the alleyway behind the cafe, you push open one of the large dumpers to put the bags of rubbish into it. The sooner you could leave the better, you needed to work out a plan to start over. Steve couldn’t know about you, and you needed to go on the run again.

“Y/N?” You heard that all too familiar gentle voice, that sweet voice. That same soothing tone that helped you when you got your first period, or before you started your first shift at the diner in town.

You weren’t sure if you were strong enough to keep up this act anymore, but you had to.

“Oh it’s you again. Look I’m sorry you think I’m this ‘y/n’, but I’m not and I need you leave.” You try to sound convincing, but your voice cracks and your vulnerability begins to show.

“Please, doll, I know it’s you. Whatever’s going on, we can work it out together.” He reassures you, now standing before you, with his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

Staring up into his big beautiful eyes, you can’t stand it anymore, and the dam breaks. Tears roll down your face as you try to hold back sobs, your own hands reaching up to touch his own face.

“You look so different, but you’re still my sweet Stevie. I guess now when you get into fights for me, you might actually win.” You joke with your love, your vision blurring from both tears and shared laughter.

Hearing your joke and realising you do know him, Steve’s face lights up and a bright laugh rumbles his large body. His joy spreads all over him as can’t help but lift you and twirl you around.

“I knew it was you.”

“It’s me, Stevie, it’s me.” You gently comfort him, as you lean down to gently press your lips to his in a soft and sweet kiss.

[440mxs-wife]

Songbird

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader. Other Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Thor Odinson. Mentioned: Loki Laufeyson, Bruce Banner.

Word Count: 10,170 (including lyrics)

Warnings: Friends to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, misunderstanding, self-doubt. Fluffy ending (of course).

Summary: For the past 8 months, Reader has been working as the manager for the Avengers. During that time, she and Bucky develop feelings for one another, though neither one knows about it. One day after his workout, Bucky hears someone singing through the vents in the women's locker room, but he doesn't know who it is. He comes close a couple of times to finding it out, but just barely misses her. Tony somehow convinces Bucky to let him throw a fancy birthday party with a 1940s theme, complete with entertainment from that era. When Bucky finds out that the entertainer is his mystery girl, how will he react?

A/N: Happy Belated Birthday, James Buchanan Barnes. This one's for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hold me close and hold me fast The magic spell you cast This is "La vie en rose"

When you kiss me, heaven sighs And though I close my eyes I see "La vie en rose"

Bucky was gathering his clothes from his locker after his shower, but paused when he thought he heard....singing? He stopped for a moment to see if he could figure out where it was coming from and whose voice it was. He hadn't heard singing like that since the traveling USO shows during WWII. Hearing his type of music being sung by someone so talented brought a smile to his face and had him momentarily rooted to the spot.

With his advanced auditory capabilities, he determined that the voice originated in the women's side of the gym. Thus far, though, its identity eluded him. He quickly shoved everything into his locker, slammed the door shut, and bolted out the door towards the sound. On his way over, he ran into Natasha, who stopped him at the entrance.

"Whoa, Barnes, what do you think you're doing? You can't go in there, this is the women's locker room. Your side is over there," she pointed out, her slender fingers gesturing to the doorway behind him.

"I know, but just listen!" he exclaimed. They both stood still as the last notes of "La Vie en Rose" faded away. Bucky's shoulders slumped in defeat, as he had thoroughly enjoyed the impromptu concert. He strained his enhanced ears to hear if a new song had started, then frowned when he didn't hear anything. He curled his hands around Natasha's biceps. "Will you please go in there and, I don't know, ask around? See if anyone can tell you who was singing? I gotta know, Nat," he begged.

Natasha studied him for a moment or two, then smirked as she eventually gave in to his pleading face. "Oh all right, Barnes, keep your shirt on. Please. I'll go in there and see what I can find out," she agreed. But before she could check out the area, you walked out with a towel draped around your neck and your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey, Natasha! Sorry I didn't see you," you remarked as your eyes slid over to the handsome super soldier to her right. "Oh! Hello, Bucky," you murmured with a shy smile.

The corners of Bucky's mouth slowly inched upwards until it was stretched into a wide grin, complete with a display of his perfect pearly teeth. "Hiya, doll," he replied softly.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the two of you. "When you were in there just now, did you hear anyone singing?" she asked.

"Singing?" you parroted. "I heard music of some kind, but I thought someone had their playlist on speaker or something."

Natasha narrowed her eyes as she regarded you with a bit of suspicion. "No, that wasn't a recording, we heard somebody's actual voice. Bucky asked me to go in and take a look around, see if I can figure out who it is, but--"

"No!" you exclaimed, holding up your hands to stop her. "I mean, that's okay, I'll go in and see if I can find out who it is. Be back in a flash!" Before either of them could protest, you had already dropped your bag and ran back into the locker area.

Once inside, you chanced a quick look over your shoulder to see if you were being followed. You paused at the sink and caught your reflection in the mirror. That was a close one, you thought. Gonna have to be more careful next time. 

After glancing at the mirror one last time and taking a deep breath, you counted to ten and walked back to where Natasha and Bucky were standing. "There were a couple of people inside, but nobody knew anything about any singing. Welp, I'm going to head to my room but I'll see you at dinner!" You picked up your bag and waved as you walked away from Nat and Bucky.

Natasha waited until you were out of earshot to ask, "Did that seem weird to you? Like she was hiding something?"

Bucky continued to stare after you with a dream-like smile on his face. Natasha elbowed him in the side, breaking his trance. "Oof! What did you say?" he grumbled.

"I said, did she seem weird to you, like she was hiding something from us," she repeated.

"'Weird'? Nah, I wouldn't say that, I mean we all have our own little quirks, don't we? Besides, hers are kinda cute," he chuckled.

Natasha looked Bucky up and down before throwing up her hands in exasperation and marching into the gym. She turned around just in time to see Bucky look longingly at the women's locker room entrance, then retreat into the men's side to grab his bag.

***

For the past eight months, you have been the unofficial "manager" for the Avengers. If someone were to write down a list of all of your duties, it would likely span multiple pages. One of your favorite responsibilities involved grocery shopping and general food preparation. That included, but was not limited to, snacks. That meant Thor got his Pop-Tarts, Loki got his tea, and Tony got his energy drinks. You could usually find whatever anyone asked for, no matter how exotic.

Except that Bucky rarely, if ever, asked you to get him anything special. He was a little like you in that way, meaning you didn't want to be a bother. To you, it seemed silly to have someone traipsing all over the city to find that one special thing you really wanted. Too often, you convinced yourself you could live without it. But that didn't stop you from picking up a few boxes of Junior Mints, or the occasional jar of bread-and-butter pickles for Bucky. 

As you'd gotten to know Bucky, you'd developed a crush on the super soldier. He was definitely a good-looking man, especially when he smiled. Your heart fluttered every time you heard him laugh, which wasn't often, thus you would do anything to hear it on repeat. Despite what had been done to him in his past, he didn't let that erase his kindness, his sense of duty, or his willingness to protect those he cared about.

Sometimes he'd wander into your office to see how your day was going, bring you some coffee, or to ask you out to lunch. You always sat next to each other at dinner or on movie nights. At times you could swear there were signs that he considered you as more than a friend. Those thoughts were quickly dismissed, because you were certain that current only ran in one direction. As gorgeous and kindhearted as he was, he had loads of women and even some men falling all over themselves for him. What kind of chance would ordinary you have with someone like him?

Today, you made an extra stop at the Farmers' Market being held in Union Square, where there was something for everyone. You picked up honey for Loki's tea, lots of hearty fruits and vegetables, assorted baked goods, and various cuts of meat from the butcher. To brighten up the Tower, you picked out some fresh-cut bouquets of flowers to put in vases. A wine vendor even persuaded you to add a few bottles of his best wines to your wheeled cart.

Out of all your purchases, the one you looked forward to unpacking the most was a bag of plums. The seller assured you that hers were the best, no blemishes or soft spots to be found. She gave you a few samples and explained which varieties should be used for baking and which ones were for enjoying right away. As you were handing over your cash, she tucked a few recipe cards into your bag with a wink. You thanked her with a smile before moving to the next stall with a spring in your step, eager to show Bucky what you had found for him.

***

Two hours later, you returned to the Tower and wheeled your cart into the building. As the door was closing, you heard shouting for you to hold the door. Quickly you pressed the button and you tried to maneuver your cart closer to your side to make room for the new passengers. It turned out to be Steve, Bucky, and Sam, who happened to be returning from a run.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," you greeted them. Bucky stepped on first, but with the cart, it looked like it would be a tight fit if Steve and Sam also tried to get on. "Oh, I'm so sorry, guys, elevator's kinda full with my cart in here," you remarked.

Steve and Sam gave each other a knowing look before grinning at Bucky, who in turn was trying to give them a murderous glare. "That's okay, Cap and I will catch the next one," Sam smirked. He reached in and pushed the one for the appropriate floor. You heard his cackling laughter fade as the doors closed.

Don't stare, don't stare, oh my God, he's so handsome and sweet--wait--don't stare, you chanted to yourself. "Did you have a good run?" you asked, then internally face-palmed yourself for the inane comment.

Bucky gave a brilliant smile before replying, "Yeah, it was good to be able to go outside and for once, it's not raining." Don't stare, don't stare, God, she's so beautiful and kind--wait--don't stare, he repeated to himself. "Looks like you bought out the whole farm, doll," he chuckled, gesturing to your nearly overflowing cart.

You followed his eyes and burst into laughter. "Yes, I guess I did! It's just that everything looked so good today, I couldn't pass it up. There's a little something for everyone in there," you noted. Bucky's face brightened. "Even for you, Bucky," you added, gesturing to the bag of plums in your cart.

His cheeks briefly flashed a dusting of pink. "Aw, thank you, sweets, but you didn't have to do that for me," he replied.

To catch his attention, you took his hand in yours and gazed into his baby blues. "I know, but I wanted to. It's okay to want things, because you deserve them and so much more," you swallowed hard to get your feelings back under control. "If there's ever something specific you want, please let me know. I'll be happy to go wherever I need to in order to find it. I don't mind, especially if it's something that would bring you good memories," you promised.

"That's really thoughtful of you, thank you. I'll try to remember that for your next trip. You going to need a hand with any of this?" he wondered.

"Nah, it's on wheels, so pretty easy. Oh! I'm making a beef stir fry and chicken fried rice later with some of these amazing veggies. You could....um....you could hang out in the kitchen while I cook? I-If you want to, b-but you don't have to. I'm sure you have more important--" your rambling was silenced by his left index finger on your lips.

"Let me take my shower and I'll be right there with you, doll," he grinned as the elevator dinged for your floor.

A warmth settled into your own cheeks despite the feel of cool metal on your lips. "Okay," you agreed, then backed out of the elevator, towing your cart behind you. "Meet you in the kitchen, Sarge," you smirked.

The elevator door started to close, so you didn't hear his reply. But you did see the genuinely surprised look on his face at the nickname, which caused you to laugh. As you turned to walk to the kitchen, you were stopped by Natasha, who stood with her eyes trained on you and her arms crossed over her chest. "Nat! What's up? And why are you looking at me like I'm in trouble?" you asked cautiously.

"No, no trouble," she replied slyly. "What was all that about, telling Bucky to meet you in the kitchen?"

You rolled your eyes. "That? Nothing," you answered with a shrug. When she didn't look convinced, you sighed in exasperation. "Ugh! Okay, I might have told him he could join me in the kitchen and watch while I cooked dinner for you all. We're just friends. No big deal, Tash," you muttered.

She relaxed her stance, but didn't give away any clues as to what she was thinking. Wanda caught up with the two of you and asked what was going on. Natasha explained what she saw when you exited the elevator and about Bucky watching you cook dinner.

Wanda's eyes widened and a huge smile graced her face at this development, and was only seconds away from breaking out into a happy dance. Before she could start, you held up your hand and reminded them that you and Bucky were "just friends" and it was "no big deal". Then you yanked on the handle of your cart, dragged it to the kitchen and grumbled under your breath about having so much to put away all by yourself.

Behind you, Natasha and Wanda were chattering back and forth, no doubt plotting your next move regarding Bucky. You paid them no mind, because you had more important things to worry about. Like how you were going to keep from cutting your fingers off with him watching your every move.

***

Bucky hastily kicked off his shoes the moment he crossed the threshold into his room. He rushed to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went and tossing them in the hamper. You had invited him to the kitchen, your sanctuary, to hang out and watch as you prepared the evening meal. He had to hurry because he wanted to spend every available minute he could in your presence.

When you were first brought on board as the team's manager, Bucky instantly thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He could tell by the way you carried yourself that you had a kind and compassionate heart, which made him fall even faster. You had a way of making everyone feel as if they were the most important person in the room when talking to them. Not exactly something he was used to having in his life, nor was having someone care about him the way you did.

Over the past eight months, Bucky has been learning about you by being around you as much as he can be. He listens when you talk about your past, your family, and your friends. He knows of your love of reading, because he hardly ever sees you without a book in your hands, even if it's a cookbook. And though you are usually up for a trip into the city with Nat and Wanda, you're much more comfortable staying in and watching movies.

He loves that you choose to sit next to him on the team's Movie Nights, and that you share your popcorn, but only with him. He appreciates that you respect his space and try not to crowd him, but lately, all he's wanted to do is get closer to you. More than a few times, you've fallen asleep on his shoulder, with his arm around you. Whenever that happened, it made his heart race and nearly sent him into the stratosphere from happiness.

But as much as Bucky would give anything to call you his girl, sometimes the doubts creep in and squash those thoughts. He had enough personal baggage to run his own airline, and what woman would want to deal with all of that? There's no way he wanted to drag you down into the deep rabbit hole that was his life, or, worse yet, expose you to any danger. He would be content to have your friendship, and it would have to be enough.

As he dried off after his shower and got dressed again, his thoughts drifted back to the singing he heard in the locker room. It was his type of music, with vocals that were nearly perfect, and it took him back to a happier time. He was going to make it his personal mission to find out who was behind the angelic voice and ask her to be his girl.

***

Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever In the mornin' A fever all through the night

The words and melodies from the song flowed from your lips as you chopped the various vegetables for dinner. You set them aside for the moment, along with the chicken and beef that were in a separate bowl, waiting for the wok to heat up. The rice simmered away in one of Tony's fancy, fool-proof rice cookers on the counter.

Sun lights up the day time Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever In the mornin' A fever all through the night

"Ah HA!" you hear someone exclaim from behind you. "I knew it was you!" Natasha declared. She had returned from her room, where she'd left her phone.

Clutching your chest at the sudden intrusion, you slowly turned around to face your friend, a panicked look in your eyes. "What?" you gasped.

"It was you, singing in the locker room a few weeks ago," she elaborated. "Barnes wouldn't stop talking about it, said he had to know who it was. I caught him roaming the halls the other day, thinking he'd figure it out by accident. Now I can tell him," she added with glee as she turned to leave.

"No, wait Tash! You can't tell him!" you blurted out. "Nobody knows about this, my singing, and I don't even think I'm that good. But....it's kinda my way of telling him how I feel about him." Your gaze dropped to the floor. "He's my friend, and if he finds out I wish it were more but he doesn't return my feelings, I....I don't know what I'd do."

She pivoted to face you and took hold of one of your hands in hers. "Trust me, you've got talent, my dear. As far as the situation with Bucky goes, I'll do what I can to help you keep your secret. But you should tell him how you feel, because you might be surprised at what happens." She gave your shoulder a pat then took a seat on one of the chairs at the island to keep you company. "Now, will you please keep singing, sweetie?" she grinned.

***

Bucky had just stepped off of the elevator and was headed for the kitchen when he ran into Steve. "Hey, Buck, where you headed?" he asked.

He explained to Steve that you had asked him to hang out while you cooked dinner, and he had accepted. He tried his best to escape before Cap could ask any more questions, but luck was not on his side. Right before they went their separate ways, Steve held out a hand to stop him and took a sniff of the air. "Wait. Are you wearing....cologne?" he wondered.

Bucky scoffed. "No, I'm not wearing cologne. Well, maybe just a little, but it's only 'cause I don't wanna risk goin' in there, reeking like the gym. I wanted to smell nice for her," he mumbled the last part, but it didn't escape his best friend's super hearing.

Steve had an inkling it was you who Bucky was trying to impress. He'd seen signs of sparks flying between the two of you and decided to dig in a little deeper. "Wait a minute. You like her, don't you?!" Steve exclaimed. He started to laugh but stopped when he saw the faraway look on his best friend's face. "What? What's wrong, Buck?"

"Shh, nothing. Just listen," Bucky whispered, breaking out into a wide grin.

Now you've listened to my story Here's the point that I have made Chicks were born to give you fever Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade

They give you fever When we kiss them Fever, if you live you learn Fever 'Til you sizzle Oh, what a lovely way to burn Oh, what a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn And what a lovely way to burn

"It's that voice again," Bucky remarked in awe. "A couple of weeks back, I heard someone singing in the women's locker room. The sound came through the vents--it has to be the same woman!" He was nearly shaking with excitement that today might be the day he finds out who belongs to that enchanting voice he keeps hearing. When he heard the sound of clapping, he bolted away from Steve and around the corner to the kitchen.

"Brava! Bravissima! You were magnificent, darling!" Natasha gushed, still clapping.

When you looked up from your skillet, you saw Bucky standing in the doorway, with Steve peering around him. "Hey, guys! Come on in, have a seat," you gestured to the open chairs around where Nat was sitting.

"I heard it again, that heavenly singing," Bucky noted, his eyes darting around the room, seeing only you and Nat. "Which one of you was it?"

Your eyes locked with Nat's as you silently begged her not to share your secret. "Wasn't us, Barnes. You must be hearing things," she replied, though she didn't look pleased to be lying for you.

"Well, if it wasn't you two, what was the clapping for?" Steve asked. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, clearly wanting to know as well.

"That was....that was because I was doing my best lip-sync of the song and showing off my best dance moves. Nat was kind enough to applaud my performance, then you guys walked in," you responded. Mentally you were crossing your fingers, hoping they were convinced.

"Oh," Bucky murmured. "Need any help, doll?"

"Um, yeah, this is almost ready. If you and Steve could please set the table, that would be great," you answered, then handed him a stack of plates and utensils.

As soon as they left the room, your shoulders sagged in relief that the matter seemed to be dropped, at least for the moment. "That was a close one," you whispered.

"Yes, it was, and it's the last time I'm going to cover for you. Either figure out a way to tell him, or I will," she warned, then her demeanor softened. "Honey, that man is smitten with whoever belongs to that sweet, sultry voice he keeps hearing. That means you, sweetie. Give him a chance, hmm?" She squeezed your shoulder on her way out of the kitchen with the serving bowls of rice.

On her way back to the kitchen, she spied Tony standing against the wall, scrolling through his phone. "I hear you had a cancellation in the entertainment section for Barnes' birthday party."

Without glancing up from his phone, Tony replied, "I did have a cancellation, what about it?" he inquired.

Natasha checked her surroundings for any eavesdroppers, then sidled up to Tony. "What if I told you, I have the perfect substitution for your entertainment? A hidden talent will be revealed, and you'll get to see the resolution to a certain birthday boy's love life," she remarked cryptically.

Tony's eyes shot up from his phone to give Natasha a sideways and wary glance. "You have my attention," he stated coolly. "What is your plan, and how much is it going to cost me?" 

Nat chuckled. "It'll only cost you a shopping trip for a dress, shoes, hair, etc. Here's what I'm thinking," she added.

***

"You did WHAT?!?!?" you exclaimed. 

"I found out Tony had a last minute cancellation in the entertainment part of Bucky's birthday party, and I told him you'd fill in for it," Nat replied with a shrug.

"Without asking me first, you told him I'd do this?" you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your composure.

Wanda took your hand and guided you to sit on the couch. Tonight was "Girls' Night", where you, Nat, Wanda, Yelena, and even Pepper joined in to decompress and have fun. "Listen, I know you're scared for him to find out how you feel about him. But he's already enamored with your voice. He's just as crazy about the rest of you," she stated.

"We've all seen the way he looks at you and vice versa," Pepper chimed in, loosened up after already being a couple of drinks in. "Believe me, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Frankly, I'm surprised Tony hasn't done anything more about it before now to push you two together," she added as she finished the rest of her drink. "You know what a meddler he is."

"Besides," Natasha added, "if you don't do it, I'll tell Thor that you forgot his Pop-Tarts that one time and didn't feel like going back out to get them. He still believes that story you told him that they were all sold out in every store. You remember how badly he sulked and pouted, how we had five straight days of thunderstorms?!?"

You gasped sharply in panic and disbelief then narrowed your gaze at her. "Ooh, low blow, Romanoff. C'mon, I was tired that day! If I remember correctly, Tony had me running all over town, picking up parts for some doohickey he was working on. You swore you wouldn't tattle on me to Thor. Huh. Some best friend," you frowned. After a minute or so, you heaved a deep sigh. "Fiiiiinnnne. You win. I'll do it."

"Honey, you have an amazing voice. And when Bucky hears it in-person coming out of the stunning figure you'll be on stage, he'll hardly be able to restrain himself," Wanda grinned.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, letting your friends' words sink in. You hazarded a glance at the faces of the women around you, seeing nothing but love and support. Maybe this could work, you thought. It'll have to be just the right song, though. "But what will I wear?" you smiled, then shrieked as they all threw their arms around you.

"Don't worry about that, Tony already agreed to splurge on the best: dress, shoes, hair, makeup, accessories--the works," Nat assured you.

"And trust me, we'll make sure and give Sergeant Barnes a birthday present he'll never forget," Pepper declared, raising her glass. "To Operation: Bombshell!" You and the others repeated the toast and clinked your glasses together. "Now, when are we going shopping??"

***

True to his word, Tony had pulled out all the stops for Bucky's birthday celebration. The best food, an open bar with the most talented mixologists, and a top-notch serving staff. For the entertainment, he secured a band to accompany you as would have been in the 1940s. 

Preparation for it kept you at work until late at night, more often than not. Because your job didn't always have regular hours, Tony set up an apartment for you in the Tower. That way, you wouldn't have to be concerned about safety on public transportation late at night. Nor would you have to worry about not getting enough sleep before an early morning meeting. You were grateful for the close quarters, because getting in before midnight was becoming a rarity.

On one of your many long shifts, you had forgotten something in your office, which was on the same level as the Avengers' living quarters. To get there, you had to walk past the common room, then head down a couple of hallways. Usually there wasn't anyone around this late, but tonight was the exception.

The elevator dinged to indicate you had reached your desired floor. As you approached the common room, you heard the voices of your favorite super soldier and his best friend. The closer you got, the better you were able to hear their conversation. Curious, you decided to eavesdrop a little, which, in retrospect, may not have been your best idea.

"What's the matter with you lately, Buck? Is it because your birthday is coming up, old man?" Steve teased.

"Old man? May I remind you, you're nearly as old as I am, punk," he muttered. "Anyway, nothin's the matter with me."

Steve rolled his eyes at the obvious untruth. "To put it mildly, you've been a real grump-ass lately, and I wanna know why," he paused. "It's your girl, isn't it?" Steve had confirmation of Bucky's feelings for you and wasted no opportunity to encourage him to confess to you about them.

"Language, Cap," Bucky sneered, then sighed deeply. "Yeah, it's my girl. She hasn't been able to be around very much these past few weeks. I miss her and it's starting to wear on me. I'm so used to seeing her amazing smile every day, hearing her sweet voice wish me good morning, feeling her hand on my shoulder."

You turned away from the two men, still deep in conversation, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs before they could burst out of your throat. Of course Bucky has a girlfriend, you thought. I guess the girls got it wrong this time. Those looks everyone says they see on his face are from those times he's thinking of her, not me. Whoever she is, she's one lucky lady, you noted somberly. With that last thought, you turned the corner and rushed down the hallway to your office.

***

At the sound of quick footsteps, Bucky scanned the area in time to see you dart around the corner to your office. Now's my chance, he grinned to himself. He leaped over the back of the couch and headed in your direction.

You unlocked your door and when the lights kicked on, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Tears had streamed down your face, leaving mascara tracks for anyone to see. You hurried into your executive washroom to clear up the damage.

With a wet washcloth, you began to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. Good for him, I guess. I hope whoever she is, she makes him happy. But this changes nothing, you reminded yourself. Bucky is my friend, and it's his birthday. I'm going to get up there and give it everything I've got. He deserves nothing less than the best, and this is the best gift I can give him, you resolved.

When you stepped out of the washroom, Bucky swore his heart skipped a beat with how beautiful you were to him. Though his brow furrowed a bit at your red, puffy eyes, and melancholy expression. Had you been crying? What happened? Who hurt you?? he wondered grimly.

Your eyes landed on your visitor, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise. "Sergeant Barnes! I wasn't expecting to see you here," you mentioned as you crossed the room to your desk.

Bucky moved towards your desk as well, wanting to get a better look at you, to be close to you. "Me and Stevie were hanging out in the common room, talking. Are you all right, doll? You look a little upset."

"Me? No, I'm okay, Bucky," you replied nervously. "Just a little tired, that's all. Tony's got me working on a project that's taking up a lot of my free time. Sorry I haven't been around much," you added with a brief smile.

"Must be an important project if Tony's got you involved. I did kinda notice when I haven't seen you as much as usual," he rubbed the back of his neck to calm his nerves. "Maybe after you're done with whatever you're working on, we can get together and make up for lost time?" he asked tentatively.

The look on his face held so much hope that you didn't dare turn him down. Above all, Bucky was your friend, and friends spent time together, right? "How about I get back to you about that after the project is all over, hmm?" you suggested.

Your response must have been the right one, as his face relaxed and broke out into that smile of his that you loved. "Great! Well, you be sure and let me know when it's all finished, and we'll find something to do together," he promised. You nodded in agreement.

Bucky stepped around your desk to stand at your side. He reached up with his right hand to trace his index finger along your cheek. "Get some rest, doll," he ordered softly. Your eyes closed involuntarily, right before he pressed his lips to your forehead. When your eyes finally opened again, you watched Bucky walking to the door. He paused in your doorway and looked back at you. "Sweet dreams, angel," he murmured.

As soon as he was gone, you dropped into your chair, placing your head in your hands. This was going to be harder than you thought, trying to manage a friendship with Bucky while he has a girlfriend. You decided to focus on your performance for his birthday party and hopefully everything else would fall into place. Once you picked up the file you came for in the first place, you re-locked your door and headed for your apartment for a night of restless sleep.

***

Two days before the party, Pepper persuaded Tony to give you the day off so she could take you and the rest of the girls out shopping in the city. In your mind, you pictured a long, slinky dress, straight out of a 1940s nightclub. You wanted something a sultry songstress would wear while crooning into a microphone, accompanied by an ensemble band.

You found the dress in the third boutique your group visited. As soon as you tried it on, you knew it was the right choice. It was a sparkly navy blue, A-line gown, floor-length, with spaghetti straps in the front that crisscrossed in the open back. It had a slit on the left that ended halfway up your thigh, revealing more leg than you were normally comfortable with. However, it was for Bucky, so it was added to the day's purchases.

Back at the Tower, Bucky had just finished his shower following a particularly intense sparring session with Steve. Before settling in the common room, he stopped in the kitchen for a plum muffin, which you had recently baked, and a bottle of water. Also in attendance were Tony, Sam, Peter, and even Thor was on Midgard after a long absence. "Lord Stark, I have not seen any of our lady friends around today. What is going on?"

"Well, you see, Asgardian Barbie, this morning, Pepper gathered up the ladies and took them shopping in the city," Tony replied. "Barnes' birthday bash is happening in a couple of days, and they all needed new dresses for the occasion," he explained.

Bucky heard Tony mention the shopping trip and realized he hadn't seen you at all today. He wondered if you had accompanied them, and if you would be at his party. He was walking from the kitchen, but in a moment of distraction, he bumped into Steve. The water bottle flew out of his hands and crashed to the floor, creating a puddle of water. He swiftly grabbed some paper towels, and as he cleaned up his mess, he asked Tony if you would be there.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know, Barnes, why don't you ask her yourself?" he gestured with a tilt of his head. Bucky's eyes followed the sound of giggling and other happy noises from you and the others as you exited the elevators.

In addition to your dress, shoes, and some accessories, you had brought back pizza for dinner. You and the girls had a late lunch, complete with cocktails, which had started to wear off in the car on the way back to the Tower. "Hey, guys! How's everything going? I shopped 'till I dropped, and I really didn't feel like cooking tonight. So, pizza it is, dig in!"

You left the pizzas on a table and headed for the kitchen to get some plates for everyone. Bucky stealthily followed you to see if you needed any help. After removing the right number of plates from the cabinet, you turned to leave, only to run straight into his chest.

"Whoa there, doll, careful. Here, I can help you with that," he chuckled as he took the stack of plates out of your hands.

"Thank you, Bucky. I'll put some drinks on a tray and bring them in," you told him.

Bucky passed out some of the plates to those already eating, then left the rest of them near the pizza boxes. He returned to the kitchen to see you still pulling drinks from the refrigerator. "So, um, my birthday party's in a few days," he started. You hummed and nodded in response. "Was kinda hoping--er--wondering if you were going to be there?" he asked.

He's so cute when he's all flustered and shy. I wonder if he's that way with her, you thought wistfully. You mentally shook off the negative notions and graced him with a smile. "Of course I'll be there, Bucky! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great! If you're getting ready here, I can stop by whichever room you're in. And I'd be honored to escort you to the party," he offered.

"That would normally be great, Bucky. It's just that I have a prior commitment that night, so I'll be a little late. However, I promise that I will be there to help you celebrate," you affirmed as you carefully placed the tray on the table. "Think it's time to collect my shopping bags and head to my apartment," you added while trying to stifle a yawn.

He looked around and pointed at the stack, which you nodded to confirm they were yours. "I've got them for you, sweets. Lead the way," Bucky replied. He picked up your bags with one hand, then held out his other elbow for you to take.

"Thank you, Sarge," you giggled as you slipped your arm around his and waved goodbye to everyone with your free hand.

As you walked the halls towards your apartment, you chatted about how you'd spent your day shopping, while he was training with Steve. All too soon, you reached your apartment, thus it was time for you to part ways. You were insistent that you could carry your bags inside, but Bucky would have none of it. He was equally as adamant to fulfill his duties as a gentleman and wouldn't let them go, placing them on your couch.

Bucky realized that he'd never been in your Tower apartment before today. In looking around, he noticed the personal touches you had scattered about the space, which were perfectly you. There was a soft-looking quilt draped over the back of the couch, a pair of fluffy slippers under a chair, and some photos in frames on various flat surfaces.

His eyes soon landed on the stuffed bear he'd won for you at Coney Island, sitting on a small, cushioned chair near your bookcase. He smiled to himself at the black sleeve with the gold thread woven through it that you must've stitched to the bear's left arm. There was no mistaking that the bear was meant to signify him, which warmed his heart. He kept his thoughts about it to himself while he waited for you to return to the living room area.

"So what's in the bags, doll?" he grinned mischievously as he started to peek into one of them.

You reached over and nudged him out of the way so he couldn't snoop in any of the other bags. "Oh, no you don't, mister," you interjected. "This is all 'top secret' girl stuff. You'll have to wait and see it at your birthday party, not a minute before," you added loftily.

Bucky pretended to be shocked at your refusal, then switched to giving you puppy dog eyes as a way to sway you. "Aw, come on, sweets. Please?"

You laughed at his attempts to convince you, but you waved him off. "Does that really work on your girl, the puppy dog eyes?" you asked in what you hoped was a playful tone.

A confused look briefly crossed Bucky's face at your question. "Must need to work on it a little harder, then," he murmured. "If it's okay, I'm going to head back to get some pizza before Steve and Sam eat it all," he chuckled.

Suddenly you realized he'd completely bypassed the food you'd brought in so he could walk you back to your apartment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Bucky! Of course you don't need to stick around here with me. I've got it from here."

"Not for nothing, but if I wasn't so hungry, I'd stay here with you for a while. Have a good night, and I'll see you around, angel," he remarked.

You walked him to the door and when he had taken one step across the threshold, you called his name. He turned around to face you and in a moment of impulse, you reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Bucky," you whispered, then gently closed the door.

On the other side, Bucky stood and stared at your apartment door. His right hand reached up and touched the spot on his cheek that still tingled a bit from when you kissed him. A smile slowly crept across his face until it stretched from ear to ear. He didn't recall how he got back to the main living area, but he definitely remembered how it felt when you'd kissed him good night.

Bucky's dazed demeanor didn't escape Sam's notice, and he certainly wasn't going to let it go. "Get some sugar tonight, did you, Bucky?" he cackled. When Bucky didn't react, Sam commented further. "Look at him, he's so in love, all he can think about is his girl."

That seemed to snap Bucky out of his trance, because he rolled his eyes at Sam's comments. He grabbed a plate and started piling it high with slices of pizza. "Besides, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he smirked, which started Sam's laughter again. Bucky rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Steve on the couch.

"So.....?" Steve prompted.

Bucky swallowed his bite of pizza and turned to meet Steve's gaze. His neutral expression gave way to a broad smile. That told him all he needed to know, that something had happened with you to make his best friend happy. Steve was sure that the two of you belonged together, and he was more than content with the notion.

***

On the night of Bucky's birthday party, your room was a flurry of activity. All the ladies decided to get ready there, except for Pepper. She promised Tony she would arrive at the venue a little early to help him greet people. You agreed that before the end of the night, a picture would be taken of all of you, dressed in your best.

Down the hall, Bucky was putting the finishing touches on his suit. Truth be told, he'd much rather be wearing something a bit more casual for his birthday party. Since you told him you'd be there, he decided to make an effort to dress up, but chose to skip the tie.

The suit was all black, with satin peak lapels on the jacket. He left the first two buttons undone on the shirt to show off his dog tags. He'd swapped out his regular boots in favor of a pair of well-polished dress shoes.

Bucky gave himself one last look in the mirror and was adjusting the collar of his shirt when Steve popped his head into the room. "Hey, Buck, happy birthday," he grinned. "You about ready to go? Stark's already there, greeting people with Pepper."

A final check of his overall appearance and Bucky declared himself ready to go. He was feeling a little nervous, especially since he normally didn't make such a big deal of celebrating his birthday. But Tony insisted, and Stark's parties were rarely, if ever, boring so he gave in. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing you there and hopefully steal a dance or two with you. "Yep, let's head out, punk," he smirked.

***

Natasha and the other girls had somehow snuck you out of the Tower and down to where Happy Hogan was waiting with the car. He shuttled you over to the venue where Bucky's birthday party was being held. Once there, he hurried around to your door to help you out of the car and wished you good luck.

Behind the stage curtain, you nervously paced back and forth, waiting for your cue to take your place out front. You ran through the lyrics in your head and practiced some of your dance routine. One by one, the band members arrived and took their places, then worked on tuning their instruments. 

About ten minutes before your performance was to start, Natasha and Wanda found you doing some last-minute rehearsing. Nat informed you that Bucky had arrived and that he was sitting at the far end of the dance floor, with everyone else filled in on either side. Before they left, they each offered some words of wisdom.

"You're going to do great, honey," Wanda assured you. "With that voice of yours, you'll probably knock Thor and Loki all the way back to Asgard." The three of you shared a laugh at the image.

"Nah, there's only one man out there she wants to impress, and he has been checking the doors like a hawk for you every time they open. And Barnes isn't my type, but let me tell you, he is looking like a delicious snack and dressed to kill," Natasha remarked. "Now get out there and use that beautiful voice of yours to tell him how you feel, sweetie," she nudged with a kind smile.

You gave each of them a hug and told them to let Tony know you were ready for everything to start. The band was putting the last minute touches on everything, adjusting their ties, or making sure the music was open to the right page. With a deep breath, you walked to your mark on the stage and waited for Tony to start the show.

"Good evening, good evening, good evening, everyone," he greeted. "We all know why we're here tonight, so let's give a warm birthday greeting to our favorite Tin Man, Bucky Barnes!"

Everyone around Bucky wished him "Happy Birthday" with a handshake, a shout-out, or even just a wave. "To commemorate his 107th trip around the sun, we have some first-class entertainment for everyone. This particular act was chosen specifically with the Birthday Boy in mind." Bucky gave Tony a puzzled look at the remark. "Without further ado, I give you your elusive Songbird."

As Tony took his seat, the house lights dimmed until they finally went out. The curtain drew back to reveal a '40s-type band, with men dressed in black pants and white jackets. There was a horn section, a string section, complete with a stand-up bass, and a percussion section.

You stood in the middle of the stage, with your back turned to the crowd. A deep breath, then the opening verse:

Birds flying high You know how I feel Sun in the sky You know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by You know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life For me And I'm feeling good

The last line is said while looking over your left shoulder. As soon as you say the last word, the band's horn section kicks up and a spotlight turns on to highlight you and your sparkly dress.

Bucky's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. There you were, his girl, his songbird, standing before him. You were dressed like he would've seen you in a nightclub from the '40s, complete with the red lipstick and the Victory Rolls in your hair. He sat on the edge of his seat, thoroughly hypnotized by your performance.

Fish in the sea You know how I feel River running free You know how I feel Blossom on a tree You know how I feel

With the microphone in one hand and your dress in the other, you sauntered down the steps in the front of the stage. Hips swaying, you first approached Bruce and laid a hand on his cheek. As you walked away from him, you gave him a finger wave. Then you sashayed over to where Thor was sitting on the other side. He reached out, but you stepped away before he could make contact. You wagged your finger and tossed him a wink over your shoulder, bringing a mischievous grin to his face.

By this time, Bucky was having a difficult time sitting still as he watched you flirt with his fellow Avengers. His eyes never left yours, focusing on your every movement as you worked your way across the floor to him. His hands itched to pull you onto his lap and lay claim to any part of your body you would let him explore. He longed to whisper about his feelings for you in your delicate shell of an ear.

Sam and Steve were keeping a close eye on Bucky, enjoying the effect you were having on him. At one point, Sam stood up from his chair and started walking towards you as if he were getting in on the act. Before he could take two steps, Bucky grabbed his jacket and forced him to return to his chair, Bucky's eyes never straying from you. Sam knew his point had been made, and mostly behaved himself for the rest of the number.

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life It's a new life For me

And I'm feeling good I'm feeling good

Bucky was perched on the edge of his chair, entirely under your spell. Once you were finally close enough, you draped one arm around his neck and with your first two fingers, you tilted his head up. You gazed deeply into those baby blues you loved so much and noticed that only a thin rim of color was visible. When you leaned over, you put your lips close to his right ear, and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Sarge."

"It was you," he whispered back. You nodded, finally providing him with confirmation that it was your voice he's been hearing in his dreams for the past few weeks. Almost reverently, he grazed the knuckles of his right hand along your cheek. You pressed a lingering kiss to his left cheek, then turned back towards the stage, your hips swaying as you went.

On stage, the band was finishing up with the last few measures of the song while you resumed your mark, keeping your back to the crowd. As the band continued to play, you replaced the microphone in its stand and locked eyes with Bucky over your left shoulder. You gave him an exaggerated wink and blew him a kiss. When the last few notes died, the area thundered with applause, all except Bucky, who was still in his chair, stunned into silence.

As the curtains closed, you quickly exited the stage, thanking the musicians for their fabulous performance. Natasha and Wanda were waiting in the wings, where they watched the entire show and couldn't wait to congratulate you.

"Oh my God, that was amazing!!" Wanda shrieked and enveloped you into a bone-crushing hug. She bounced up and down a couple of times until she finally released you, a beaming smile on her face.

Natasha strolled over to you, gave you a wink and a knowing smirk, then pulled you to her side in a half-hug. "Knew you could do it. Bucky had his eyes on you the entire time, couldn't look at anything or anyone else but you. Still think he considers you two as 'just friends'?"

You sobered a little at her remark, remembering the conversation between him and Steve from that night you stopped at your office. Before you could tell her about it, you heard the sound of a throat being cleared. The curtain was pulled back to reveal Steve, a sheepish grin on his face and his eyes locked on you.

"Um, excuse me, but the guest of honor requests your presence for a private conversation. I have been sent to escort you to the balcony, where he's prepared to wait all night if he has to," Steve explained.

Glancing nervously at your best friends, you were met with nothing but encouragement and assurance from their gazes. Though you were nervous to hear what Bucky had to say, you felt that you owed him a chance to say his piece and let the chips fall where they may. "Okay, Steve. Lead the way, please," you replied.

Steve grinned as you curled your hand around his offered arm. "By the way, you were wonderful up there tonight. Just like the sirens me and Buck used to see on stage in the nightclubs. You know, back when we were young and full of hormones," he joked.

You lightly swatted his arm as you joined in his laughter. "Thank you, Steve. That was probably one of the bravest things I've ever done. So far, anyway. I sure hope Bucky liked it," you added.

He snorted in response. "Oh, trust me dollface, he loved it. Couldn't stop staring at you," he assured you.

On the walk over to the balcony area, many of your friends congratulated you on your singing and performance. You smiled and thanked each of them for their comments. All too soon, you were standing at the doors that led you to Bucky. A flight of butterflies took off in your stomach at full speed as you desperately tried to regain your composure.

Then you remembered what awaited you on the other side, out on the terrace. A man you were grateful to have met and considered to be one of your closest friends. A man who had always been kind to you, despite what life had put him through. Someone that made your world a better place by being in it. You couldn't see your future unfolding without him in it, nor did you ever want to.

"He's waiting for you," Steve gently reminded you. He untucked your hand from his side and kissed the back of it before returning to the party. You pushed down on the handle and swung the door open.

Bucky was standing with his hands clasped behind him, staring out over the ledge at the horizon. The noise volume from the traffic and other sounds of the city wasn't as loud as it was at the lower levels. His face lit up at seeing you, as the echo of your high-heeled shoes on the patio surface caused him to reverse his position.

"Hello, Bucky," you greeted.

"Hiya, doll," he replied, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Probably shoulda known it was you that day I heard the singing in the locker room," he grinned. His hand slowly reached up to brush his knuckles along your jawline. "You were incredible up there, sweetheart."

"Thank you, that's kind of you to say. I'm glad you enjoyed it," you replied shyly.

"I absolutely, 100%, loved it, doll. Reminds me of those clubs me and Steve used to sneak into so we could go dancing. Where'd you learn to sing like that?" he wondered.

"My grandparents kept a large vinyl collection of music from that time. My brothers and I used to spend summers with them, and it was in all the old movies we used to watch. I guess it kinda grew on me," you giggled with a shrug.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. "Well, I'm certainly glad it did, because that was one of the best birthday presents I've ever received in my life." His hand brushed back a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind your ear, while his eyes shifted their focus from your eyes to your lips. He slowly leaned closer to you, giving you every chance to resist what he was about to do.

Suddenly your index finger was pressed against his lips, halting his advances. "Bucky, wait. Not that I haven't thought about this, but what about your girl? Isn't she here with you at the party tonight?" you worried.

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. "My girl?" he wondered. "What are you talking about, sweets?"

"I heard you and Steve in the common room. It was late and I had forgotten something in my office. You said you missed your girl and that you were so used to seeing her 'amazing smile every day'. How it was starting to wear on you about not hearing her wish you good morning or feel her hand on your shoulder," you explained.

Bucky saw how your gaze had dropped to the floor and felt you slipping from his grasp. As he racked his brain trying to recall what conversation you were referring to, you continued.

"I mean, until I heard you talking that night, I thought 'maybe....', and the girls all seemed convinced as well. But after what I'd heard...." you trailed off. "All I would ever want is for you to be happy with someone, Bucky. Even if that someone isn't me," you whispered.

You started to feel the burning of tears behind your eyes and started to move towards the door. No way did you want to break down in front of the man you loved, on his birthday, for something that wasn't his fault. You were determined to hold back until you had returned to your room.

But Bucky had other ideas.

He was still holding your hand as your steps took you closer to the exit. He gently squeezed it, which caught your attention and halted your escape. You turned to face him and when your watery eyes caught his, you saw only compassion and a hint of another emotion you couldn't quite name.

"Now, darlin', there's only one girl I can think of that I want to call mine. She's smart, funny, a bit sassy, but sweet. She's thoughtful, always thinking about others before she thinks of herself. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and has the voice of an angel. I have missed her these past few weeks, but I'm guessing it's because she wanted this to be my best birthday ever. And that's made me fall even more in love with her," he declared.

As Bucky was giving his speech, he inched closer to you, step by step, until there was barely any space between you. His right hand drifted upwards to curl around your neck, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. "You love me?" you whispered.

Bucky nodded, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh baby, ever since I met you, I've wanted to call you mine, but never thought you'd feel the same. Nor did I think I deserved to be with someone as wonderful as you."

Now it was your turn. "Bucky, you deserve all that this world has to offer and more. I've had feelings of more than friendship for you for a long time, probably since we met. Thought you were way out of my league, though. Parts of this world haven't been kind to you, but you haven't let it destroy the best parts of you. Past and present, all of it makes you the man I've fallen in love with. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," you affirmed.

Bucky surged forward, crashing his mouth into yours with a groan of satisfaction. At first, the kiss was dominant, his lips moving almost feverishly against yours. Then he slowed it down, wanting to convey every ounce of passion he felt for you. He draped your arms around his neck, then pulled you closer into his embrace until you were flush with his body. Your fingers played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, causing him to shudder. You smiled against his lips, which created an opening for Bucky's tongue to slip in and deepen the kiss, taking you by surprise.

The need for oxygen finally broke the kiss, leaving both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he remarked. "Definitely worth the wait."

You giggled in response. "You don't know how many times I've imagined or dreamed about kissing you. Reality is so much better," you replied.

The two of you stood, perfectly comfortable holding each other, until the balcony door opened to reveal Steve on the other side. He cleared his throat to get your attention, averting his eyes but not before you noticed a teasing smirk on his face. "Uh, Tony wanted me to let you know that it's time for cake and for you to open your gifts. Although...." he trailed off with a grin.

"Hey, punk, show some respect for me and my girl," Bucky playfully growled. Then he turned his attention to you. "You ready to go back out there and show 'em who you belong to?" he asked in a seductive voice.

"Only if you're okay with showing 'em who you belong to," you countered through half-lidded eyes and a sultry smile.

"Absolutely," he agreed. After one more searing kiss designed to make Steve a little uncomfortable, you separated. Bucky took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and led you both back to the party. When everyone saw your joined hands, cheers arose throughout the crowd in celebration of your happiness. You both laughed when you saw money change hands between a few of your friends, Tony with Natasha and Sam with Steve.

You turned to face Bucky, resting your palm on his cheek and sighing when you felt him lean into your touch. "Happy Birthday, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky tilted his head to kiss your palm. "Best birthday ever, doll," he remarked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@katelyn--renee @lassie-bird @emoryhemsworth @hintsofhoney @wayward-dreamer @never--doubt @akshi8278 @rooweighton @phoenixisred @krazykelly @imherefordeanandbones @missvelvetsstuff

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r ; 4

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 5k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mention of blood, idiots…

note | after months, here's a new update! finally found the inspiration to write again :)) I apologize for the long delay. anyway, let me know your thoughts on this one. enjoy reading!

series masterlist

 “Ugh… What to do? What to do?” you hummed.

It’s been days since your arrival in this era. And so far, everything is fine. Confusing but fine. You were still having nightmares that always woke you up. But you didn’t bother to tell anyone about it. It’s probably a normal reaction.

Since the superheroes in the compound have alternative schedules for their missions, you found yourself rubbing shoulders with whoever Avenger is in the compound. It’s obvious that they don’t want you to feel excluded and made it clear that they don’t mind you asking questions if you find something puzzling. 

You usually bond with the youngest one, Peter Parker, who is always around since he is, based on what he said, “a friendly neighborhood superhero”. It means that he doesn’t go out of the country, like Natasha or Steve, or even this state for a mission since he still has classes to attend and he explains that his aunt won’t let him go anywhere far and dangerous. Understandable, you thought. The kid is only sixteen. But for now, Peter is staying back with his aunt in their apartment while the others are on their missions. He has a schedule for staying between the compound and his aunt’s place. 

Clint is with his family, who you heard lived in this secret farmhouse. Tony is probably home too. You don’t really know. You kind of feel that he avoids being alone with you. Wanda is resting in her room. You don’t want to disturb her as you saw her coming home earlier, looking really exhausted. 

When he can, Steve also kept you company. Of course, you enjoyed talking to him about his life after the whole defrosting thing. But sometimes, you felt like a disturbance or a burden in his free time. You thought, maybe he just wants to rest. Perhaps he just feels bad for you. So, you try to not stay around him all the time if he’s home.

So, you really have nothing to do. You have books but you don’t feel like reading now. You have this novel that you liked so much, you just finished it today. The compound also has this large, flat television but you don’t feel like watching anything either. It’s not like you’re not used to being alone. You’re always alone before! But at least you have a job to take up all your time. With all this free time, you cannot help but miss doing something in the laboratory. Computing numbers or testing prototypes with Howard. You wondered if your best friend ever finished that flying car he kept on re-working. You figured, maybe not. You see that people in this modern time still use four-wheeled cars.

“Oh, hey, Doctor Y/N.”

Sometime in the afternoon, Bruce Banner went out to the kitchen to get himself something to drink. That is where he sees you, looking all bored and spacing out. You forced a smile at him and greeted him back,

“Hello, Doctor Banner.”

“Bruce. You can call me Bruce.” he smiled as he opened a can of rootbeer.

“Then, you can call me just by my name too,” you replied, tapping on the hardbound book you had with you. You tried not to be obvious as you examined his look. With his eyeglasses and white coat, you know he’s been working in his laboratory. 

After taking a sip from his drink, he spoke, “What are you up to in here, Y/N?”

Hearing that question, you instantly sighed heavily, making your shoulder slump, “Nothing really. I’ve been watching the paint dry, Bruce.”

Thankfully, the scientist caught on to your use of words. He chuckled before asking you, “Do you want to go to the lab?”

You swore you jumped from where you were sitting when Bruce said that. He took it as a yes and you two walked together back to his laboratory. Instantly, you were in awe of the place. There are screens and machinery everywhere. You don’t understand how these new gadgets work but you cannot wait to hear about them. This is like something you dreamed of.

“Here.”

Bruce handed you a white lab coat and you immediately grabbed it, wearing it excitedly. Damn, you missed wearing it. You stood next to him in front of his messy desk, which is pretty normal. Notes were everywhere. Even pens and crumpled papers. You’re starting to miss your own messy work table.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Bruce spoke, referencing his desk.

You smiled, “It’s fine. It means you’re really working hard for something.”

Slipping your hands into the coat’s pockets, you wander around the spacious lab. You try to stop yourself from touching anything, fearing that you might mess something up. So like a little kid, your eyes just show your enthusiasm as you watch some type of liquid flow into a transparent tube.

“What are you working on?” you asked, turning your head to Bruce.

“Something that can help the world, hopefully.” he chuckled. He walked next to you, “It’s a serum that may help cancer patients.”

“That’s nice,” you whispered, eyes still distracted.

“Yeah. But it’s still an experiment. This is the first time I’m working on something like this again after I tried to recreate the super soldier serum.”

Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him, “You tried to recreate that serum?!”

Steve did not tell you about that. No one told you that someone in the compound tried to recreate it. You always wondered what Dr. Ernskine did to that serum since it seems very impossible to reproduce. But now that you’re in this modern era, people have more resources and findings. Maybe Bruce succeed.

Bruce stared back at you with a small smile, “It’s what brought me here, Y/N.”

“Cap. You okay?” 

Tony asked as soon as he made sure the auto-pilot was set on the plane. Instead of answering, Steve grunts while pressing a hand on the right side of his stomach. Blood was gushing out from the stab wound he got from this mission. Bucky, on the other hand, also earned bruises on his face and small cuts on his arm. The two admittedly underestimated this mission. They didn’t expect that a hundred members will show up in this cult-like mob they raided. Thankfully, Tony was able to answer an emergency call.

“Those guys really got you cornered. Whoever stabbed you would probably brag about the fact he got to stab Captain America. Too bad he died.” Tony quipped, trying to lighten the mood. He signaled to Bucky to pass him a bandage.

Steve listened with exhaustion running in his veins. He breathed out as he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the surface behind him.

“You know, you got to be more careful now…” Tony suddenly spoke, sounding a bit serious. Steve opened his eyes and look at his friend who was focused on cleaning his wound. It took minutes of silence– since Tony made sure that his wound won’t get infected– before he continued,  “You have a girlfriend waiting at home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Tony,” Steve replied sternly.

His best friend still managed to chuckle at that. Steve groaned when Tony slightly applied pressure to his wound. Not that Steve doesn’t like the idea of you as his romantic partner, he just doesn’t want to tolerate this kind of teasing from his friends. They might get used to it and make you uncomfortable whenever you’re with him.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Okay, whatever. But my point is you are Y/N’s closest friend in the compound right now and I don’t think she will like seeing you come back like this. I mean, you already died before and Dad told me a lot of things that happened.”

Steve tilted his head quizzically. He looked at Bucky who shared the same expression on his face.

“What–”

“There.” Tony got up as if he didn’t just say something. He pointed at Bucky. “And you too, buddy. Bring more backup next time. Something worse could have happened. You’re lucky I’m just another country away for a presentation.”

He walked back to his seat as the pilot, ignoring the confusion and curiosity from the two a-decade-old super soldiers.

“That was your last memory?”

Bruce sat in front of you, typing on his laptop as you nodded an answer. A couple of hours after inviting you, you two ended up just chatting in his laboratory. Bruce told you about the time he recreated the supersoldier serum. You learned his history and how he joined this league of superhumans. He was open to sharing his struggle in accepting his power and learning to control himself from being Bruce and the Hulk.

After that, he ended up giving you a tour of his laboratory. You would share how a gadget you had before evolved into what he has now in these modern times. Your curiosity about these said gadgets made his offer to teach you whenever he can and you happily agreed. Although you’re still unsure if you’re staying here for the rest of your life, you think that it will be good to adapt in the meantime.

“The time machine…” your voice trailed off as you brought up the topic. “How did you and Tony make it?”

You’ve been wanting to ask someone about their version of a time machine here. But since Howard’s son was a bit distant, you get to talk about it with Bruce now.

Bruce shakes his head, “It was unsuccessful.”

“It brought me here.” you countered, pursing your lips.

The air around you two was suddenly all serious and Bruce feels it. You were just wondering how they built their time machine. How did they make it work? It was seemingly more successful than Howard’s. Was it because of the current and upgraded technologies? Did they use different formulas than Howard? Did they make their own original version that was way different than what you and your best friend worked on in the past?

 

Bruce looked at you for seconds like he was contemplating if he should tell you. Then, he exhaled, removing his glasses.

“Tony brought the blueprint and basically the whole plan for it months ago. He said he found it when he was digging up in his dad’s office in their old house.”

“Wait.” your eyebrows scrunched together as you paused. You take your time processing his answer. You made sure you understood it by saying, “So… it was originally Howard’s… The blueprint for it?”

He nods, “Yes, Tony found it along with other plans his dad never worked on. We just used other materials than the outdated ones...”

You didn’t really listen to the rest of his words when you heard the first sentence. Your eyes stared at some space. Never worked on? He means, Howard made this plan and never worked on it? Does it mean that if your best friend just worked it, you could have been back earlier than this era? Your hand slowly pressed a hand on your chest and you felt your heartbeat getting quicker Bruce quickly noticed it and you looked up at him with your eyes screaming in confusion and surprise, hurt.

“When did Howard plan it?” you asked. Your voice was weak and you almost said it in a whisper.

Although confused, Bruce replied, “1977. It was written on the bottom of the blueprint.”

Your brain was quick in computing it. It was thirty years after your disappearance. You feel like shaking as you blinked away the tears that were blurring your sight.

“W-Where can I find this blueprint? I want to see it.”

The change in your tone and expression made Bruce ask, “Y/N, are you okay–”

“Where?” you asked again instead of answering.

“Uh, Tony has it.”

You ran your palms all over your face, calming yourself down. You breathe out. You knew you had to stop yourself from crying as you cannot stand doing it again.  It’s pointless. You’ve been tearing up ever since you came here and you have never been this vulnerable. You don’t like it. Before Bruce can repeat a word, you sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I… I was just surprised Howard planned on building another time machine and never made a move on it.”

Bruce hummed quietly and replied, “It’s fine… Everything must have been a lot to you.”

You chuckled, trying to lighten up the atmosphere, “Yeah, it’s a real bummer and I think it makes me blow a fuse really easily. I swear I was never this emotional.”

If he did it, would I have come back earlier?

The question floats in your head as you set your eyes on the quiet lake just outside the compound. You pulled your knees closer to your chest and rested your chin on your knees. The sky was already dimming down as the sun already set. Nature was quiet and the only loud thing was your brain with all these questions you were asking yourself.

There was a part of you who wished you shouldn’t have just asked Bruce. Maybe you wouldn’t feel this way. But you were always curious about things, so you asked. And here you are, having this moment. As if knowing about Howard’s plans is not enough, you still had thoughts if you can ask Tony about it. You let out an exasperated, hopeless exhale. Maybe not.

“Dr. Y/N!”

You snapped out of your deep thoughts when you heard your name. Turning your head to your side, you spotted Peter approaching with a smile on his face. He waved his hand, and your lips form a small smile.

“Hey… I thought you were staying with your aunt tonight?”

He sat beside you on the green grass, “I’m just staying here until nine. Then, I’ll go back home. I dropped by to see if you’re baking tonight.”

You giggled, “Well, today’s not your lucky day, kid. But I think we still have a few brownies in the jar from the other day.”

“I checked. It’s already empty.” he feigned disappointment, holding his chest, and you two chuckled. “How was your day here, doc?”

“Boring. I haven’t really done much. Bruce saw me in the kitchen earlier and invited me to his lab. I just miss doing something again.“ you confessed with a hint of frustration in your tone. “How about you, kid?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Eh, just school. I and my friend Ned ended up in detention because he cannot stop talking about this new movie during chemistry class. Then, our other friend, MJ joined us since she said she enjoys going to detention. We planned to eat something after but MJ has a part-time job to go to.” Peter shared and you feel that he was pretty satisfied with how his day went.

“Well, at least one of us got to bond with their friends,” you scoffed. “I have to get used to my friends being superheroes.”

“They are usually busy, aren’t they?”

You nod, “Yeah. It actually made me feel jobless.”

You two laughed at that. You resumed, “I can’t believe I finished two books in a short period– Speaking of books, I was wondering if you could lend me a hand.”

“For what?”

“Oh, you know that novel I’ve been reading these past few days?”

“Ah, the one with the whole time machine plot too?”

“Yes. I… I really loved the book. Is there any way I can reach out to the author? Maybe write them a letter? I just really want to let them know that it’s a good story.”

Maybe it’s because of a lot of free time on your hand. But you just really adored the plot and the novel itself. You found it in the new releases section of the bookstore you went to days ago. But the story was set around your time, in the 40s, and mainly revolved around time traveling, which initially pulled you into buying it. It was accurate by the era it was in, and it made you feel closer to where you came from. Now, you just finished it and it was beautiful even though it was left on a cliffhanger. It causes you something to look forward to.  

“We can try to reach out. Maybe they have e-mail. It’s faster than sending them written letters.” Peter suggests.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What’s an email?”

“Oh, it’s electronic mail. It’s like the modern type of exchanging letters with other people. Instead of asking for the person’s home address, they can just give you their email address. Then, you can send them a message with the computer or cellphone.” he explains and you nod.

“How about your laptop?”

He nods, “Yeah, we can also use that.”

You two ended up walking back to the compound. Peter helped you with creating your own e-mail address and typing your message to the author. You wanted to learn and get used to with using this gadget so you offered to type yourself. He was patient enough to teach you with the keys on the keyboard as you type. 

“So, it automatically saves itself as a draft?”

You moved the cursor on the screen as you glided your index finger on the touchpad of his laptop. It wasn’t a long message but it was genuine. You re-read the whole thing again before passing the laptop to Peter.

“Yeah, what’s the name of the author again?” the boy asked before opening a new tab in the browser.

“Oh, wait…” you reached for the book and read the huge, bold name written on the front cover. “It’s… Donald S. Burton.”

“Okay, we can look for his website. Maybe he has his contacts there.”

His voice trailed off when he began typing on the search bar. It never fails to amaze you how fast this thing can give you answers. It’s like all of the books in the library were compiled into this gadget. Peter input the name and a list of information about Donald S. Burton showed up. There were even images of the man. You cannot help but smile when the old guy reminds you of someone familiar.

“Here is his email!“

“I like these. What are these again?” 

Steve smiled at your curiosity, “Chicken nuggets.”

“Okay. Chicken nuggets,” you repeated. “I wished we had these in our time. I love these and these sauces. And of course, this sundae!” you exclaimed before taking a scoop with the tiny spoon.

Just a couple of days after you talked with Bruce in the lab and sent an e-mail with Peter’s help, you found yourself having a picnic with Steve just around the city. It was a quiet park in the busy city. It was a Tuesday so there were fewer people in the place. He invited you with it after he got home from his mission.

“Should I bake or make something?” you asked him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll be ordering food on the way to the park,” he replied.

“Are the others coming too?” you asked again.

He shook his head, “I… didn’t ask them.”

“Why didn’t you ask them?” you raised an eyebrow. 

Steve seemed to be caught off guard. Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Peter, who were also in the living room when you asked, smirked and looked at each other knowingly when they saw their leader’s frozen reaction. He stood there awkwardly with his hands on his hips. Natasha was the first to break the silence.

“I’ll be training,” she said.

The others caught on to it and spew their reasons too. Peter chimed in, “I have a ton of homework to do, Doc.”

“I’m visiting my sister in Louisiana,” Sam explained with a scoff. That made you squint your eyes at him. Then you looked at Bucky, waiting for his reason. He seemed frozen like the gears in his head is turning.

“I… uhm… I’m…”

“He’ll help me with training.” Nat saved him. “We’ll do some planning with the next mission.”

So that’s how you and Steve ended up alone on this picnic, which you don’t mind. You had a fun ride going here. He lets you play songs by connecting your rarely-used phone to the car’s stereo.

“How did you learn about that song?” he asked when American Pie played.

You smiled, “Natasha. I heard it from her.”

You ordered food from a fast food chain through a drive-thru. It was exciting as Steve ordered meals you didn’t try before. When you arrived at the peaceful park, you insist on helping him with bringing stuff. He just made you bring the blanket while he carries all the other things. When you found a perfect spot, you laid the gingham blanket on the green grass. You sat comfortably in your casual floral dress before you two began eating.

“Thank you for this, Steve.” you smiled.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming with me. I haven’t been on a picnic with someone for a while.” he said.

“You know, before I got in the time machine, I went picnic with my neighbors.” you shared, remembering that day with the Smiths.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?!” he asked with surprise.

Your ears perked when you heard that. The Jones were your neighbors before the Smiths. They are the last ones Steve knew since he and Bucky would sometimes fetch you if you were hanging out somewhere. The said couple was a bit grumpy, to be honest. They can hear even the smallest noise you would make in your apartment and would always let you know they don’t like it. 

“Oh, no. They moved out months after you disappeared. Another family occupied their space. Susan and Robert Smith. They have this little kid named Donny. They are much nicer.” you joked.

“Well, that’s nice. I missed a lot of things while on ice.” 

“It was only two years, Steve. Nothing much happened.” you snorted, finishing your sundae.

“A lot of things can happen. I know Howard found the Tesseract while searching for me on the ice… Share some things that happened in those two years.” 

“Okay…” you exhaled. “I bet you already know that they tried making a series after Captain America vanished. You became an icon. Have you seen it?”

You laughed when you saw Steve hissed, “I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, it was bad.” you cracked up. You only watched that once. You don’t like how they painted Peggy into a character named Betty who was always a damsel in distress. Peggy had complained about it too.

“Anyway, we– Howard and I– tried for like a year to search for you. But he would usually be the one to go on sites and I would always try to come with him. He needs more convincing but it always works.”

Howard often says that going in the field can be dangerous and you would fight back over and over again. You were glad you did because you were with them when they found the Tesseract.

“What convincing did you do?”

“Well, I would say that I’m his assistant. My job is technically following him around. Then when he says no, I’ll say that I am his best friend. I still do have my last reason if he denies me of coming with him.” you said.

“And what is it?”

You paused and just stared at him. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hmmed. It was like you were thinking if you should tell him the last reason for Howard to let you go with him. Steve waits. He tried to be comfortable as he leaned back with his arms resting behind him. He hoped he doesn’t look much curious or nosy. After what felt like an eternity, you spoke.

“It’s… It’s that I am the last one you spoke to while you were on that plane.” 

You looked away from him, avoiding his gaze. You tried to just look at the trees and people from the distance than just look at Steve. Your chest felt heavier when you remembered that time Steve fought that skull and had control of that plane. Steve didn’t say a word so you continued to explain more, just to get it off your chest.

“It would always work since he fully knows that I have guilt living in my system after the country lost you.” you chuckled bitterly. “I felt awfully bad that I cannot do anything to help you during that situation.”

When your voice shook uncontrollably in the last words of your sentence, Steve sat back up and you can see the sympathy in his blue eyes. He reached out for your resting hand, instantly caging it in his warm hands.

“Y/N… none of it was your fault. It was already a dead-end situation. I was the one who chose to crash it.” he tried to reassure you.

“I know, I know,” you mumbled, tears slipping from your eyes. “But I cannot stand losing another person in my life that time, Steve.”

Your tearful eyes met his concerned ones. “We just lost Barnes earlier that year. And I really just can’t lose you… I tried to think of something. Howard was in the same room while I was talking to you on the phone. We tried to make a plan but we don’t have any idea where the hell the plane was and it was moving really fast. It was really bad. I felt helpless. I thought I might have been able to do something to help you but we have no time. I hate that all I can do is talk to you on the phone, hoping that you won’t feel alone, while I prayed silently for some miracle to happen. And it was crazy because  I don’t even remember the last time I prayed before that moment.”

By the time you finished talking, you were full-on sobbing. Your chest heaved and your cheeks were damp from your salty tears. Steve held your hand. His thumb drew circles on it as he lets you cry for more. And when he felt you calming down, he uttered:

“Staying in that call with me until the end was enough for me. I appreciate you for handling yourself very well and being calm with me that time. You are amazing. And you don’t know how relieved I am when I knew you were the one who answered the call. Thank you.” Steve said softly, offering a small smile as he looked directly into your eyes. “You already did much more you know for me that time.”

2/19/1945

Y/N arrived with puffy eyes today. I knew it before she even removed the black sunglasses she had on. I already told her the day before that she have the choice of not going to the laboratory today. But she still did. It was quiet the whole day in the lab. We both tried to act busy like nothing much happened. Due to the events of these past two weeks, I’ve been getting telephone calls from a lot of people. I chose to ignore them because I know it has something to do with Rogers’ disappearance and I’d been hearing they want to make the serum like Ernskine’s. I honestly think that it would be hard to “remake” Captain America ever again. She didn’t eat anything for the whole day even a cup of coffee. I insisted on walking her home, saying I have to borrow her old research about the future of computers. She said she’ll just bring it tomorrow but I said I need it urgently even though I really don’t. In fact, I have nothing to do with her research. I just had to make sure she’ll get home safe. I thought it was a good idea to just walk with her instead of asking Jarvis to drive us. But boy, I was wrong. The loss of the nation’s superhero is plastered all over the place. I tried distracting Y/N by telling her about the funny encounter I had with a girl months ago. I never told her about it before because I know she doesn’t like that I cannot commit to a single girl. But I have no more story to tell at the moment. It was a relief that she let out small laughs and smile at it. Although the smiles didn’t reach her eyes, I hope she felt better for a bit. She was about to say some advice or something when she suddenly froze. Her lips formed into a frown and I see tears forming in her eyes. I follow where her eyes lay and it was the newspapers. WE NEED A NEW CAPTAIN. The headline was printed in big, bold letters. Eye-catching. “They cannot just replace Steve like that.” It was a whisper from her. I hate that all I can do is sigh. Two minutes later, we reached her apartment. She handed me her research and thanked me. She smiled. But it was forced, I know.

As I am writing this letter, I am thinking of leaving this city with Y/N for a vacation somewhere away from here. I don’t know if she will like that. Maybe she won’t. Maybe I’ll just settle on walking her home with another made-up reason from the back of my head. I don’t know. I just feel helpless seeing her like this again after Barnes’ and now, Rogers’ death. Even so, I’ll always make sure that she will be alright.

H.S. 

Tony removed his eyeglasses as he finished reading. His index finger traces the handwritten words by his father, sighing in the process. He can hear his father’s voice with each word in it. 

“Tony, we need to go. We should fly at six!” Pepper’s voice cuts off his thoughts.

He stretched his limbs before replying, “Okay, honey. Just getting my glasses.” 

Tony stared at the page again for a second before closing his father’s journal. He slid it onto one of the drawers on his nightstand and left.

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST

@supraveng @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @stilltoomuchafangirl @matisse556 @ladybug05 @sunwoahkim @meanttobea @j69confessional2 @thenyxsky @swthxrry @justab-eautifulmess @7minutes-tomidnight @curlycarley @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @wisepenguin @shatfairy @coffeeshub @stillthatbetch @cosmicgirls-things @mediocre-m @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @mrsjaderogers @themerc-with-a-mouth @slutdreams @royalwritersoftheuniverses @yunloyal @avengersinitiative2012 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @madnessinwrighting @lilizia @saintmagx @saranghaey @elmphoenix17 @animegirlgeeky @t-stark35 @ameliabs-world @seijaelee @sully-stick-together @capswife @katdahlali @avengersgirllorianna

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@rosedpetal

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. -------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

Warning: Minor emotional abuse included.

One might assume that growing up surrounded by wealth and luxury makes someone the luckiest person alive. Having seen the struggles and sacrifices of the poor in society, you could confirm that this assumption was not entirely false. Since Gold Roger's announcement about the One Piece, a legendary treasure that no one had found for 22 years, piracy had become rampant. You lived in an era where gold and status held more importance than anything else, even family itself.

You witnessed an increase in deceptions and subterfuge, whether it was on the open sea or within your own household. Your father was a successful entrepreneur with a modest number of valuable connections, both in the private sector and among Marine colonels and various associates. It was extremely important for you to follow his protocol and ensure that everything was accomplished in a way that upheld your family's reputation.

Unfortunately, this also meant agreeing to a forced engagement with one of the admirals' son, regardless of what your heart desired.

It could have been so simple, really. A firm and confident "no" was to be expected from you, as you never wanted to marry for benefits, but only for love. And yet, throughout your entire life, you struggled to find the courage to go against what everyone wanted you to do. As a natural people-pleaser who didn't like disappointing those around, you grew up surrounded by cruelty, opportunism, and a severe lack of affection.

You were trained to be nice and condescending, having to wear a fake smile at all times, and when necessary, even put your cleavage on display with the nicest dresses in your wardrobe. Or, to describe it more accurately, your mother's wardrobe.

Your parents barred you from selecting the garments that you would be most comfortable in. You harbored a preference for a more casual look, which consisted of shirts and fitting pants, leather jackets, and boots. Nevertheless, in accordance with their view, such clothes did not suit a lady of your importance. Consequently, you had to store your own funds separately, and keep the non-compliant outfits inside a concealed wooden box.

Occasionally, you were able to experience a sliver of freedom with your best and only friends from your hometown, conjuring up plausible alibi while avoiding arousing any suspicions. They were the only ones who addressed you with kind and considerate words, openly expressing their views that opposed your constant acceptance without putting up a fight.

You knew they were perfectly correct in their statements, yet you were unable to ascertain the missing drive and find that spark within you; the strength you had tried to put into good use whenever your parents confined you to your room for several days, with the bare minimum food intake as a method of teaching you a lesson concerning the specific expectations that they wanted from the good and well-mannered girl whom they attempted to nurture.

You had no voice left in your throat to scream, alongside possessing a minimal amount of stamina to retaliate and advocate for yourself amid the continued degradation that you had to face on a consistent basis.

You thoroughly despised your cowardice. You dreamed of an existence where you could stand up for yourself, fighting for what you wanted with full determination and fervor. And yet, that day still felt so far away, as you were constrained to attend one business dinner after another, whether with your parents present or by yourself.

They wanted a doll, so you acted like one.

You didn't know yet, but everything was about to change significantly and unexpectedly on that fateful night.

There was a particular location known as the Baratie Restaurant Ship that served the most high-class and succulent dishes in the entirety of the East Blue. Your parents expressed considerable enthusiasm towards dining at this establishment and subsequently extended an invitation to your father's closest admiral associate, along with your presumed fiancé. As a result, you were summoned to attend the gathering without any possibility of evasion.

Your friends advised you to feign illness and make a covert escape from your home as soon as the ship set sail, but you were exceedingly familiar with your parents' modus operandi better than anyone else. You discerned that they would have surely transported you with them even if you were physically disabled, so you chose your mother's favorite dress for the occasion, applied your makeup, and selected the kind of uncomfortable shoes that you disliked wearing while standing due to their tight fit and high heels.

As soon as you arrived at the docks, the aroma of cooked meat, grilled fish, and baked potatoes filled the air. Upon entering the restaurant, a soothing melody immediately greeted your ears. While your parents spoke with the fishman at the entrance about their reservation, you took in the upscale setting. Admiring the ambiance, you appreciated the cozy atmosphere with dim lights lending a romantic vibe that made it the perfect spot for a genuine couple.

Christopher, your supposed fiancé, touched your back in an unpleasant manner as he analyzed every patron in the establishment with a visible expression of disdain.

"I'm sure some of these people are filthy pirates," he sneered. "I hope the food is as good as they say.”

With a forced smile on your face, you nonchalantly stepped away from his hold. "You can't exactly choose the customers, Chris," you said pointedly, hoping to discourage any further negativity.

The man seemed unfazed by your rejection and proceeded to walk down the stairs. Your parents followed suit, escorted to your designated location for the evening with the admiral following in tow. His usual grin was plastered on his face, and he strode past you as you stood frozen, not saying a word.

You took deep breaths in an attempt to calm your frazzled emotions, but your heart continued to hammer in your chest with a loud, pounding rhythm.

"Come on, Y/N, you can do it. Just a couple of hours, you'll survive this," you whispered to yourself, trying to muster up some courage and push through the discomfort.

You swallowed the lump that had surfaced in your throat and then joined the group near the center area of the restaurant, waiting for the others to take their seat on the long couch made of high quality leather.

Despite Sanji's best efforts, Zeff once again belittled and ignored one of his delicious meals, causing him to be relegated to the lowly role of a waiter. As he hurriedly wiped down a table, clearing it of the empty plates and keeping the growing pile on his left hand, Sanji's gaze casually shifted to the group of people that had just arrived at the Baratie. He abruptly turned around for a moment when he caught a glimpse of you, utterly entranced by your beauty and the elegant movement of tucking a hair strand behind your ear as you took in your surroundings.

Sanji found himself staring at you longer than he intended to, his lips curving into a wide smile the moment you settled onto the couch and subtly adjusted the fabric of your dress to conceal your thighs. Amidst the vibrant conversation that occupied the others, you remained quiet and reserved, lightly tugging at the corner of your lips as you tried to blend in.

Even though they all engaged in lively chatter, you showed no special interest in the topic of discussion, drifting away and briefly meeting Sanji's eyes in a quick glance of contact.

To Sanji's displeasure, the man sitting near you attempted to capture your attention by holding the menu in front of you. You redirected your focus to carefully inspect the list, and Sanji was left standing there, one hand tucked in his pocket, watching as your lips pressed together in concentration.

Amongst the multitude of female patrons present that night, you stood out as the most mesmerizing for reasons that he struggled to put into words. Sanji hastily gathered the remaining clutter, taking it to the kitchen before fixing his jacket and tidying up his hair to make it look as neat as possible.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back into the dining hall, walking towards your table with long and confident strides.

Christopher wasted no time in adopting an uncouth position that led to his leg frequently brushing against yours on the couch. Luckily, you were seated at the edge of the furniture piece, providing you with a convenient escape route if needed.

Your attention was successfully diverted from your tense predicament by the sound of footsteps approaching your table. When you raised your head once more, you saw the blond waiter that you had noticed earlier halting in front of your group with an elegant stance.

As you viewed him from a distance, you couldn't tell whether his radiant grin was intended for you or someone else. But as the two of you now came face-to-face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked from up close.

You felt yourself growing flushed under his intense gaze, his beaming smile making you feel as if he were peering right into your soul in a way you were not particularly used to.

“Welcome to our Restaurant, my name is Sanji. What can I bring for you?”

The sharp switch between his pleasant demeanor and mild frustration whenever the men made their statements about what to drink or eat was quite amusing, but it was difficult to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach when he turned his attention towards you again, with the same radiant smile from before. “Madam?”

It took you a moment to respond, as you were unable to process the suitable thing to say. "I'll have whatever is best on the menu. Surprise me.”

His grin increased in size to the point where you were able to witness his exquisite set of gleaming white teeth. "And what would you like to drink?”

Just as you were about to respond to his question, your mother intervened and answered on your behalf. "She enjoys fine wine, just like her fiancé. Could we have an esteemed bottle?”

If your eyes were able to hurlin daggers, the intensity of your glare would have been enough to pierce her head on the spot. For the first time, you felt the powerful urge to rebel against her declaration, as you had always known that retaliation is most appropriate when served ice-cold.

You turned back to the man named Sanji, offering a big smile in return. "Actually, I would prefer water. With ice, thank you.”

“Cubed or crushed?”

“Cubed is fine.”

It appeared that everyone was simultaneously startled and speechless because of the bold pronouncement you had made, which provided you with intense satisfaction as you continued to keep up your firm countenance.

Sanji took a small pause, observing the tense atmosphere that had materialized in the air and moving his gaze back and forth. Upon perceiving how determined you were about your order, he nodded and walked away from your table area. “Coming right up.”

You became aware that Sanji had neglected to note everyone else's orders. However, you presumed that due to the restaurant's renowned reputation, he was competent enough to recall them without any major problems.

In the meantime, your mother nervously clenched her hands, seemingly ready to voice her complaint to you.

And so, she did.

"What was that?" she asked you.

"Nothing," you said, trying to appear oblivious. "What’s the matter, mom? I can't even decide what I want to drink?”

"I thought you preferred wine, just like Christopher.”

You raised your shoulders in a dismissive gesture and remarked, "See, that's how little you know about your own daughter.”

Your father, who had maintained a disturbing calmness up until this point, sternly uttered your name. Given the vibrations in his voice and his expression that exuded a certain level of seriousness, it was apparent that he was about to give one of his reproaching speeches.

“You are crossing a line here,” he warned you in a forceful tone. "I won't accept any form of disrespect tonight.”

Maybe you didn't want to seem weak and easily influenced in front of that attractive waiter, but the threshold of tolerance was likely about to overflow.

"Disrespectful? How is ordering water instead of wine considered disrespectful?”

In the past few years, your father had managed to keep you obedient through his strict upbringing, making you timid and condescending out of fear of the consequences. Memories of his controlling treatment during your childhood were still fresh in your mind, and even if his presence continued to make you feel uncomfortable and restricted, on this particular evening you had a distinct feeling.

And he didn’t like your newfound attitude of independence.

"You will not speak to me like that, especially not in front of our guests.”

Admiral Joseph Wheeler crossed his arms in front of his chest and displayed a facial expression that indicated amusement and nonchalance. “Oh no, don’t mind us.”

You rolled your eyes and reacted with evident disdain."I can’t believe we’re arguing over a drink. I said I wanted water, and I don’t see why you have to treat it like front-page news scandal.”

As the conversation continued, your father's anger seemed to intensify, and you couldn't help but enjoy watching the scene unfold.

"Well, I thought you preferred wine too," Christopher said. "That's what you told me.”

“No, that’s what they told you to please you. I never did.”

“Y/N.”

You felt your stress and tension levels starting to creep on you, and dinner hadn't even begun yet. For a brief moment, you locked eyes with your father and held his firm gaze with your own fierce expression, all while tightly gripping the tabletop with your fists, careful not to rip it.

Admiral Wheeler, on the other hand, suddenly burst into hearty laughter and repeatedly patted your father on the shoulder as a sign of approval. "Would you look at that, your daughter has got some bite!”

You were unable to decipher the true meaning behind his remark. It was unclear whether it was intended as a compliment or as a way to ridicule and diminish you even further.

At the very least, your father appeared noticeably relieved to see Admiral Wheeler entertaining himself. "She must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Your heart began to race as you heard these words. They always made it their personal mission to outsmart and defeat you in various ways. Did your family really see you as that insignificant, only good for their schemes and to be discarded once they no longer needed you? Did they hope to entrust you to Christopher, just to finally be rid of your presence in their home while solidifying their partnership with the admiral?

You suppressed the emotion of sorrow that loomed within your eyes, managing to push the tears back by promptly blinking a few times.

Sanji the waiter returned after a brief moment, carrying a tray that held beverages and empty glasses. You were the first to be served, as he took his time to pour you some water before affably filling your glass with a few glistening ice cubes. The bright smile he displayed proved to be infectious, causing your entire body to relax simply through looking at his face.

Following standard etiquette, your mother was the second to receive her drink. Despite his cordialness and compliments towards the woman, causing her to turn red and giggle in delight, he utilized a noticeably different approach as he filled the remaining beverages. Christopher, who clearly doubted Sanji's intentions, scrutinized him with suspicion, and you could tell that the waiter, in turn, was conducting a similar examination of the man seated next to you.

Sanji's change in behavior was impressively smooth and appealing, as he diverted his attention back to you, flashing another wide grin and producing a beautiful snowy flower from the inner pouch of his jacket.

"For you, madam," he said, presenting a white tulip to you.

You were rendered utterly speechless and astounded, as you stared alternatingly between the flower and his eyes.

"For me...?" you asked in disbelief, hesitantly taking the stem and brushing his fingers in the process.

“Something beautiful for someone beautiful.”

His voice, accent, golden strands of hair falling over his left eye, and the consistent smiles he gave you with his hands placed inside his pockets made your legs feel abnormally weak. Although you were not unfamiliar with men demonstrating flirtatious conduct in your presence, Sanji was able to present himself in a pleasant manner using the right approach.

For a brief moment, you pondered the possibility that Sanji's small, kind act stemmed from recognizing your uneasiness. Your rapid assessment of the dining hall revealed that none of the other female customers had received a flower, either holding it in their hands or having it placed on the tabletop.

And so, mimicking his smile, you accepted his gift. "Thank you so much. That's very nice of you.”

Unfortunately, the calm within your mind was ultimately destroyed when Christopher grasped your left hand. He proceeded to delicately entwine his fingers with yours and moved closer to you on the couch as a form of ostentation.

"Yes, well. Aren't you supposed to wait on other tables and bring our orders, Sanbey?”

The blond maintained his cool, politely diverting his head towards your fiancé. His mouth formed a narrow line, and his eyes transformed to a darker color. “It’s Sanji.”

Chris grunted. "Whatever. Now get lost.”

A wave of bitterness and loathing flooded over you, to the point where you perceived an acidic flavor at the back of your tongue. Gradually, you removed your hand from Christopher’s grasp and subtly slid further onto the cushion in order to escape his hold.

Before Sanji could leave, you leaned over and gently reached for his elbow, not actually making physical contact with it, but just using a feather-like touch. "Please don't mind him. Your service is greatly appreciated," you said.

"Beautiful and sweet. Thank you, madam, I'll be back with your orders.”

Concealing the pang in your heart when you watched him stepping away required a moderate amount of effort. Sanji's flirty mannerism could potentially be a facade, developed specifically for marketing the restaurant and gain potential returning customers. Nevertheless, you discerned that his persona was wholly authentic, as the glistening glimmer in his eyes provided evidence of his genuine attraction towards females.

As you sank down into your thoughts, you held onto the flower with your thumb and forefinger, inhaling its delicate, soothing aroma. For a moment, you even forgot that you were sitting among other people. When you remembered, an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

"Did you really enjoy that?" Christopher asked, forming fists with a visible sign of distress.

“I do like the flower, if that’s what you mean,” you replied.

"Oh, so now you're going to accept flowers from the first dandy stranger?”

You had to contain the deep sigh that you wanted to let out. "You're being ridiculous now, he works here.”

"Yes, and you didn't even try to reject his advances.”

Normally, you would drop the argument before it could escalate, striving to behave like a scoundrel solely to appease his anger and convince him that there was no reason for concern. However, this time something snapped inside you, and you made a decision that you were not going to back down.

"Well, maybe you should start looking at yourself in the mirror for once.”

An unexpected blow on the table caused everyone present to jump at the sudden gesture, to the point where even the people sitting a few feet away fell silent. Your father was livid, glaring at you in a manner that showed his sheer desire to incinerate you with only the power of his mind.

“Apologize immediatly,” he growled at you.

Once again, you were almost tempted to do as he said, but you forced yourself to keep staring back without reacting.

Admiral Wheeler sneered again. "She's not entirely wrong, son. I keep telling you to style your hair differently. You look like a mop.”

"Hey! Whose side are you on?!”

Your father reacted with great indignation, displaying a flushed face due to the embarrassment he had just experienced. Your mother, who had remained quiet until that point, finally sat up straight on the couch and spoke. "No Joseph, my husband is right. I can see the wit and charm of that waiter, but she shouldn't flirt around with other men when her fiancé is right next to her. I would expect such behavior from a low-class prostitute.”

If your blood could flow any faster, it's possible that you would spontaneously combust.

"First, you complain about my drinking choices, and now I'm criticized for accepting a souvenir?”

She clicked her tongue. "Your lack of consideration for Chris is appalling.”

In your peripheral view, you saw the man in question acknowledging your mother's declaration with a subdued nod. All you longed for was to violently upend the table and make your escape, stealing the vessel in which you arrived and forcing them to return to their abode by virtue of swimming.

Unfortunately, you were cognizant of your limits, and you simply didn't have it in you at this time.

In the end, knowing that a further discussion would be of no use, you reluctantly decided to tolerate their judgment while grinding your teeth and clenching your jaw tightly.

There did not seem to be any viable means of extricating yourself from such an unwanted reunion anyway.

Sanji knew that Zeff had barred him from the kitchen for his creative initiative with off-menu dishes, yet upon noticing the sorrow and anguish on your angelic visage, he felt a powerful impulse to personally cook for you. After all, you requested the best they had to serve, and there was no one who possessed the skill necessary to fulfill your exacting taste aside from him.

Sanji wanted to make you smile. It was his personal mission to delight the women who strolled into their restaurant, but with you, a distinctive motivation operated his dexterity with ease, driving all his actions behind the stove.

Sanji didn't know you, and it was already established that he lacked the will to resist an appealing lady whenever he saw one. But even though you were unfamiliar to him, you possessed your own unique vigor that seemed to fascinate him more than anyone else in the entire restaurant. Additionally, he could still perceive your delicate touch upon his forearm, causing his skin to tingle beneath the fabric of his rolled-up sleeve.

Patty had attempted to persuade him, fully aware of the excessive fury the Chef was prone to display upon discovering his colleague was cooking things that he never approved. Nevertheless, Sanji refused to listen, stubbornly cutting the fillet of cod into flawless square shapes, boiling the rice, and adorning your dish with the appropriate amount of seasoning.

As the best cook in all of East Blue, Sanji didn't just desire to produce food that was delectable to the palate. He wanted his creations to appeal to someone's soul, seeking to connect with their innermost sentiments and touch the deepest aspects of their heart.

Sanji wished to refrain from interfering, but it was straightforward for him to notice that you were unhappy and very uncomfortable in the presence of your handsy boyfriend. Frankly, no one else at the table seemed to possess a particularly considerate attitude towards you. You resembled the most unblemished bloom, a creature who could imbue an entire room with radiance. It was unbearable for him to see you afflicted.

The moment Zeff returned to the kitchen, Patty surreptitiously departed to the storage area. The food for your group was completed and ready to be served, although the man did not refrain from offering a plethora of critiques for Sanji’s work for your order. However, the young man swiftly put his jacket back on and retrieved the dishes while displaying an exuberant expression, leaving Zeff behind rolling his eyes at the sous chef for his constant inflexibility.

Over the next few minutes, you refrained from speaking while your parents discussed trivial matters with Joseph and Christopher, addressing topics that simply failed to engage you being related to their business. The flower had been placed on the tabletop and in front of your glass, which you incessantly observed for its beauty, grazing at the velvety petals with your fingertips. Your eyes then became transfixed on the ice cubes as they cracked and dissolved into the water, emitting a vivid rainbow-like reflection on your skin.

You mentally thanked the Divine and quietly breathed a sigh of relief when Sanji reappeared. He was holding two large trays filled with all of your meals, which were smoking hot and exuded a heavenly scent from their plates.

Just like before, you were the first to be promptly served in a chivalrous manner. Sanji set a bowl of rice before you, and just by taking a look at it, you could immediatly notice that it was a genuine work of art. The white grains were embellished with vibrant pieces of codfish, minced spinach, intermingled cherry tomatoes, and basil leaves. It was something refined, yet also simple enough for your taste. The chef who prepared the dish for you crafted it with clear passion and consideration for the ingredients.

"I have the most delicious pot of cod and rice for you, madam. A house specialty.”

The wink he gave you when you exchanged yet another glance with him struck you in the gut, but in order to prevent a third argument from erupting, you responded with a small, tight smile.

"A Bouillabaisse for the lady," he continued, extending a plate of fish soup to your mother. "And for our fine gentlemen, a boulette, bifstek, and Dress Shrimp Paella.”

You were inclined to laugh upon observing the dirty look that Sanji shot towards Christopher, almost halting himself in the middle of his action of setting down his plate on the table. You couldn't help but speculate that Sanji was potentially taking your side despite merely having observed your interactions.

Or at the very least, you liked thinking that was the case for once.

Christopher remained placid without uttering a word of protest, retrieving his fork and promptly engaging in devouring his food. Admiral Joseph and your parents proceeded to immediately take part in their dinner as well, and Sanji politely excused himself with his unique manners, moving to another table nearby.

Without hesitation, you picked up your spoon and scooped a serving of rice, inhaling its appetizing fragrance before introducing it to your mouth. As you started chewing, you closed your eyes in utter satisfaction, allowing the food to melt on your tongue before swallowing. The rice was incredibly rich and creamy, yet not heavy on your stomach. The cod was of significantly higher quality than any other fish you had, and the spinach seamlessly combined with the tomatoes in an exquisite explosion of flavors.

As you savored every bite of the meal, each one better than the previous, a large grin instinctively formed on your face.

Before vanishing behind the wooden doors of the kitchen, Sanji cast a curious glance towards you from afar. You were eating the meal with your eyes closed in ecstasy, savoring each bite of rice with care and delicacy. Your smile was so appealing that Sanji had never witnessed such a sight before.

Just then, you released a melodic cackle that Sanji could only barely detect from his distant position. He saw you turning to the others while gesturing at the bowl, bringing your hand against your chest, exactly where your heart was located. "If this isn't the most delicious thing I've ever tasted, I don't know what is,” you exclaimed.

Sanji's smile grew even wider upon hearing your assertion. He marveled at the sparkle in your eyes as you giggled with every mouthful of the rice he had prepared exclusively for you.

Your parents, Admiral Wheeler, and even Christopher all concurred in regards to the quality cuisine, regarding their dishes as incredibly satisfying and asking for further portions. Throughout the entire dinner, they seated at the table exuding a noticeably elevated sense of contentment. They were at a loss for words, and you definitely appreciated the peace and quiet with a lighter heart.

Unfortunately, the calm atmosphere didn't last long as your mother finally asked the dreaded question you had been avoiding for quite some time.

"So, when are you two going to tie the knot?”

You accidentally gulped down a considerable amount of water, leading to a series of coughs as you tried to alleviate the uncomfortable raspy feeling in your pharynx.

Chris let out a small chuckle, displaying a mixture of embarrassment as he scratched the back of his disheveled and unruly black hair.

"Ah, well. I haven't given it much thought yet," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You two are old enough to start your own family," she continued, "Hopefully, you won't keep us waiting for too long.”

You took a deep breath, keeping your composure and refraining from delivering a sharp retort to your mother.

As Christopher extended his right hand along the back of the sofa and brushed it against your bare shoulder, you shivered at the physical contact. You pushed yourself forward, reaching out to grab a slice of bread as an excuse to retreat from him and create some distance.

“Y/N? You don't have anything to say?" your mother questioned, her tone filled with anticipation.

You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating the appropriate response to give. Ultimately, you realized that you were mentally and emotionally exhausted to fabricate a falsehood.

“No, I don’t.”

The entire table's attention was now focused on you, as your parents stared at you intensely, their eyes fixed on your face with piercing scrutiny.

What?" you asked with your mouth full. "Do we really have to discuss this right now?”

"Yes, we do," your father replied. "Your carefree and indifferent attitude needs to change.”

With mounting annoyance, you allowed the remaining chunk of bread to slip into your empty bowl.

"I'm sorry, but we're discussing my life here," you said, asserting yourself. "Are you seriously going to make decisions on it without my consent?”

Once again, your father's temper flared. He stood up from the couch, using one hand to support himself on the table as he restrained his anger.

"Oh, you can rest assured that we will. What are you even good at without our guidance? Do you seriously believe that we would let you throw away everything we've built?”

This time, it was you who slammed your palms. "And what is it that you've built, dad? An empire of lies, hypocrisy, and dirty money?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

A deafening silence spread across the room, causing the other diners who were engrossed in their own conversations to stop and redirect their attention to your table. The two of you engaged in a new staring contest with a comparable level of fervor, but in an effort to maintain a sense of decorum and avoid causing further ruckus in the restaurant, you exhaled a frustrated grunt and shifted slightly in your seat. You assumed a slouched position with your forearms crossed in front of you, diverting your teary eyes downwards.

Christopher attempted to provide you with some solace, sliding his hand beyond your hair while gently stroking the side of your face with the underside of his fingers. Still, you didn't want any of his attention. You moved your head away and shunned him by raising one hand up.

Admiral Wheeler cleared his throat, his gaze shifting between you and your father, as he swiftly downed the remnants of the drink in his glass.

It was an understatement to say that Sanji was infuriated. He was unaware of what led to the man's outburst, but the enchanting smile you had a second ago had been replaced by a much darker expression - a look he certainly did not like to see on a woman like yourself.

Discerning that you preferred not to be surrounded by those people sitting with you was easy for him to figure out. Were it not for his imperative task at hand, he would have acted as a knight clad in shiny armor, whisking you away from the callousness that blatantly depleted your spirit and caused you to have a strong yearning to shed tears.

A lady crying was a spectacle that Sanji couldn’t handle, not without feeling like he wanted to kick the one responsible for it.

For the remainder of the night, he continued to provide service to the arriving patrons and was repeatedly sent out of the kitchen by Zeff whenever he dared touching the stove again. For some reason, he couldn't get your lovely face, appearing completely distraught because of some imbecile's disrespectful treatment, out of his thoughts.

When he returned to your table to take a new order from the dessert menu, he noticed that your seat was now empty. Your mother had blurted out something about you taking too long in the restroom, presumably fixing your makeup that had started to deteriorate and ruin your appearance.

Sanji immediately recognized the mocking tone in her voice. As he returned to the kitchen to deliver the requested selection of sweets, a strange somberness settled in the core of his stomach.

Later, when he came back to the dining hall with the baked treats on a silvery tray, you were still absent.

You didn't even know how much time had passed since you hurried to the restroom. The urge to escape and be alone was strong, so you gave yourself a moment to cool off and fix your makeup as best as you could.

Right now, you looked like a complete mess. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, smudging bits of mascara beneath your reddening eyes. Your reflection revealed someone who was miserable, fragile, and hopeless, much like your younger self that you could still vividly see curled up in a corner of your room.

You were anticipating this night to wrap up in a couple of hours, but your parents weren’t showing any concern regarding how late it was getting now. Even though you tried your hardest to keep it together, it became increasingly challenging with each passing second. Your breathing became labored, your heart raced at an unimaginable pace that made you think it might shoot out of your chest, and your whole body started trembling like a quivering branch.

You anxiously wiped away the tears from your face, removed the smudged makeup from your skin, and took deep breaths to calm your racing pulse. As soon as you managed to regain control of your emotions and appear presentable again, you used your nails to comb through your hair, adjusted your dress, and proceeded to push open the door.

You stood frozen and paralyzed in front of the dining hall, watching as the others carried on with their meaningless chatter, seemingly oblivious to your state of mind.

But the harsh reality was that in truth, they didn't even care.

Your ears started to buzz and your surroundings turned into a muffled murmur, as if you were submerged underwater. Your hands tightly gripped your handbag, holding onto it with sheer desperation.

“…dam. Madam? Is everything all right?”

You quickly composed yourself when you heard someone speaking to you. The second you swivelled your head, you saw Sanji the waiter looking at you with a furrowed expression, his hands tucked into his pockets.

For some reason, his blue-ish eyes seemed to have a grounding effect, causing the ringing noise in your ears to immediatly fade away.

When your nerves became more solid and allowed you to feel stable enough, you gave him a response. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

Judging by the way he slightly inclined his head to watch you, it was quite clear that you didn't sound very believable. You could have continued telling lies, even to yourself, returning to your seat and feigning like nothing had ever happened. But there was a certain attribute in him that urged you to let it all go, to stop pretending to be someone you were not, at least for one night.

In the end, a sad chuckle escaped you as you massaged your forehead in defeat. "Actually, no. I don’t think I am.”

"Can I offer you something sweet to bring back your beautiful smile?”

A slight tinge of red spread across your cheeks, causing you to cast another glance at your table from afar.

“Actually, I think I might need a drink now,” you clarified. “A strong one. And no, I don’t really like wine at all.”

A mischievous smile stretched across Sanji's face in response to your comment. "Tell you what, the restaurant has a bar outside. Would you mind if I joined you?" He asked.

You eyed him in bewilderment. “Aren’t you working?”

“I’m on my break,” he said. “And my shift is almost over.”

You pondered the proposal, peering at the dining table one last time to weigh out the undesirable repercussions. Vanishing with the Baratie's waiter would likely escalate your father's anger, and enduring a prolonged argument on the boat later was not an appealing prospect for you. Nevertheless, the more you felt Sanji's focus on you, the stronger your desire became to escape with him for the remainder of your stay. Returning to your seat didn't constitute an option you wanted to choose.

As you pushed your hair away and behind your ear, you issued a resolute nod to him. “Screw it. Let’s go.”

Sneaking out of the restaurant without being noticed by your family was less arduous than you thought it would be. They were engrossed in their continuous conversation, never lifting their heads or paying attention to the movements around them. Sanji softly grazed your back as he accompanied you, his palm making only slight contact against your skin. You relished the pleasant sensation of the heavy ring he sported on his middle right digit, feeling the coldness of the metal in contrast with the warmth of his touch.

Once you reached the mouth of the fish at the end of the ship, the energetic music coming from the speakers immediately captivated you. Patrons were stationed on the sofas with large colorful beverages placed on their laps, some engaged in dancing inebriatedly before the bar. As Sanji retrieved two vacant stools from a corner, he politely offered you one. You couldn't help but yearn for his electric touch again the moment his hand left you.

While you ordered a full tumbler of cocktail, Sanji opted for only a small glass of liquor. It was fine with you, as he needed to remain sober for the purpose of continuing his job later. You gently took small sips of the beverage using the straw, feeling the strong liquid burning down your throat. He took out a lighter from his pocket, idly toying with it while you sat in silence, transfixed by his flawless hands.

Your heart thumped harder as he turned to face you, his broad smile permanently etched on his perfect face. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Madam, but what brings a woman like you together with a man like that?”

You chuckled at his inquiry, amused by how effortlessly he recognized that Christopher was not the lifelong partner you had chosen for yourself.

"Do you ever feel like you're stuck, unable to move forward with your life?” You asked him.

Sanji's eyes appeared to shine when he heard your words. He glanced downwards, and you could see the hesitation tugging at the corners of his mouth. “More than I want to admit.”

You rotated ever so slightly on the stool to orient your face more directly toward him. “You don’t want to work here?”

"It's complicated, sweetheart.”

Downing more of your drink, you gave him an agreeing nod. "I guess that’s just how life works for some of us.”

Sanji stayed silent, but he continued to gaze at you as if you were an incomparable treasure.

His handsome features seemed to shine under the dim lights of the bar, even more brightly than you could have thought possible. You were almost tempted to brush aside those golden locks that covered his left eye, but you had to scold yourself for developing a similar attraction for someone you knew nothing about, and who naturally exuded a flirtatious attitude.

Maybe that drink was already starting to affect your lucidity.

As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?"

He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?"

You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Using the straw to casually swirl the ice cubes in your drink, you observed the ripples that formed within the cocktail.

"A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream, 'till the current ends, dips his wing in the orange sun rays, and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage. His wings are clipped and his feet are tied, so he opens his throat to sing."

Sanji appeared slightly puzzled, but he also paid close attention, listening intently.

“The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown, but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.”

When you assessed his reaction, Sanji's beaming expression turned into the most delightful toothy grin you had ever witnessed. “Is that a poem?”

You nodded. “One of my favorites.”

He looked away, steadily flicking his lighter on and off in a continuous flow of motion. "The bird sings because it wants to be set free.”

“Yes.”

This time, Sanji took out a white cigarette from a flat box, lit it, and held it between his middle and index fingers. He inhaled the nicotine before exhaling a puff of smoke, making sure not to blow it on you.

For some reason, you found even those actions to be seductive.

"I'm not a waiter, you know," he declared.

You snapped out of your daze. "What?”

"I'm a cook,” he explained, exhaling another puff of smoke. “The best one in all the East Blue.”

Confusion flickered in your eyes for a moment. "You're the chef in charge?”

“Ah, no. The old man is. The shitbag doesn’t appreciate my creative choices in the kitchen.”

You shrugged your shoulders. "Some imagination while cooking is always nice.”

“You should tell him that. You liked the rice, didn’t you?”

Your mind went blank as soon as you thought of that delectable bowl of rice. You looked at Sanji with awe, your eyes widening as the truth suddenly dawned upon you. “You made it?”

Sanji had an air of pride, laughing at your reaction and taking another deep drag from his cigarette.

"Whoa, okay. My mind is blown right now. That was seriously the be-"

"The best thing you've ever tasted?" He interrupted you, looking into your eyes with contentment. “I know.”

In a cheerful tone, you inquired, “Did you hear that?”

"I told you. I'm the best cook in the East Blue,” he replied. “But yes. I might have heard you.”

Sanji winked at you once again, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at yourself as your knees weakened at such a simple gesture.

"Okay, hat off. It was delicious. Thank you for that.”

Without noticing, you had unknowingly gotten closer to his body, nearly touching his upper leg with yours. Sanji didn't seem to mind, as he continued to look at you without interruption.

A little tipsy from the drink, you leaned your elbow on the countertop, resting your head against the side of your palm. “Do you do this often?”

He maintained his smile. “Do what, Madam?”

“Flirt with your customers.”

"Only with the most beautiful ones.”

You licked your lower lip, feeling the heat spreading across your cheeks. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

"Oh, trust me, Madam. Your beauty is blinding me.”

You leaned forward, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Y/N, please, I prefer simple things.”

You spoke with a slightly more mischievous tone than you had intended, yet you were unable to acknowledge any feelings of embarrassment as he got closer.

Sanji turned his face away without saying anything, proceeding to put out his cigarette and allowing his gaze to survey your body. You allowed him, granting permission for your heart to perform a series of somersaults inside your chest. It felt as though he was consuming you with his eyes alone, yet simultaneously, there was a very gentle aspect within those seemingly ravenous actions of his.

And just when you anticipated his lips to come closer to yours, his grin vanished. "I apologize for intruding, but is there anything I can assist you with?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to grasp the precise meaning of his words amidst your hazy state. “Assist me?”

“Do you need help?”

And when you finally grasped it, you let out a brief sigh and closed your eyes. Moving your head away from your palm, you let your arm rest against the counter, with your hand inadvertently placed next to his.

"That's nice of you to ask, but no. Everything's good, really.”

"It didn't seem like it was.”

Sanji looked deeply serious, his kind-heartedness now evident. Your lips, slightly damp and chilled from the fresh cocktail, regained their smile. You gently brushed your fingertips over his black tie, sliding them around the knot.

Sanji seemed to swallow, taken aback by your unexpected gesture.

"Just like you said earlier, it's complicated.”

In the midst of the moment, he stretched out his fingers, letting them come in touch with your wrist on the bar counter. Nonetheless, the contact was tender, exhibiting no signs of pressure or ulterior motives. "I just don't see how anybody could clip the wings of such a lovely bird.”

Upon hearing those words, you had to summon all of your inner strength to suppress a new rush of tears that threatened to form. “Some birds are just not meant to fly.”

The anguish in your voice resonated deeply within him, and you could perceive a barely noticeable head shake of protest. But before he could refute your words, both of you were interrupted by the unmistakable voice of someone you knew, filled with anger and disappointment.

"Ah, so you've been here all this time.”

As you turned, your eyes landed on Christopher, who stood before you with a disgruntled expression. In a swift motion, you pulled your hands away from Sanji and straightened your posture.

"I just needed a drink," you said firmly, maintaining your position against the counter.

"Oh yeah? It looks like you needed more than just a drink," he retorted, casting a disdainful glance at Sanji.

"What is this dandy asshole doing with you?" he asked angrily.

Sanji tightly pressed his lips together, rose from his chair, and flashed Chris a significant, sarcastic grin. "How long did it take you to find her, sir?"

Christopher's complexion grew redder with each passing second as his anger escalated, causing you to audibly sigh in annoyance. In an attempt to calm him down, you reached out and touched his shoulder. "Can you let him be? He was just being polite. There's no need to create a scene," you pleaded, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Well, it's not like you were drawing a line, were you? You seemed quite eager to jump into his pants like a damn whore," Christopher said, his tone filled with jealousy.

Before you had a chance to offer a proper rebuttal, Sanji stepped in front of you. "Do not speak of her that way."

Sanji's intervention only served to further fuel Christopher's rage, but a mix of emotions surged within you. Your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, unaccustomed to such a protective act.

"I can speak of her however I want, she's my fiancée! Don't you have work to do, shithead?" Christopher spat, getting dangerously close to Sanji's nose in an attempt to intimidate him.

Despite Sanji's composed demeanor, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and his unwavering stare locked with his opponent's, you reached out and gently touched his back.

You moved forward to show your support and alleviate the growing tension. "You got it all wrong, Chris. Just let it go," you uttered. “Fights are against the restaurant’s policy, don’t make a fool out of yourself.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see that Sanji had turned his focus back to you. He displayed a clear sense of awe at your respect for their regulations.

Chris's breathing was filled with agitation and hatred. Despite this, he managed to compose himself, straighten the collar of his jacket, and scoff in Sanji's face. "Fine, but this conversation isn't over, Y/N."

When Chris turned away to leave, you noticed your parents seated on one of the large sofas in the lounge area, alongside Admiral Wheeler. While the admiral immersed himself in the music and bobbed his head to the rhythm, your parents sent piercing glares your way, filled with clear disapproval.

Anticipating what was about to unfold, you couldn't help but let out a final sigh of resignation. You refocused your eyes on Sanji, who maintained a quiet silence, examining your face with a slight upward curl of his lips.

“Thank you," you expressed, infusing your words with genuine gratitude and sincerity.

Sanji's lips stretched into another sweet, full smile, watching you pivot on your heels and approach your family. From his perspective, you looked like a victim walking to the scaffold, about to face your inevitable execution.

Go to Chapter 2 ->

[queen-of-the-avengers]

A Dream Come True

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: fluff <3

Request by anon: When steve and vixen ever settle down they might have a small wedding with their friends invited , loving vows , steve would have a simple yet beautiful rings for him and vixen, vixen herself would make her wedding dress (40's and 50s inspiration) bucky is the best man as for natasha as the maid of honor . Adorable part they ask tony morgan and pepper if morgan can be the flower girl they allow it , sam walks her down the isle even tearing up " i cant belive you two are tying the knot! ;-;" she smiles at sam "its alrigjt sam^~^ dont be sad”. Oh the reception is both sweet and little rowdy (best mans speach lol bucky remembering how they had good times in the past ) some cracked some laughs, theres tears and one did the protective brother mood "he better not hurt my sister" type to the bride and grooms first dance as a married couple ;-; 

Request by anon: If vixen and steve are getting married . Could vixen make her wedding dress inspired by 40s era and 1900s style hair updo . And we guess steve would be in his 40s military suit in the wedding lol both buck and sam are the best men morgan is the flower girl 🥲 hope its not much pressure

Summary: It's your wedding day, a day you never thought would come. You're marrying your best friend, the love of your life. After darkness clouded your entire life, you're finally seeing the sun.

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Squares Filled: clint's farm (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Before you were taken, before you got your world turned upside down, you had a dream. You had a dream that one day you’d be wearing a beautiful white gown that closely resembles the one your mother wore (hers got destroyed in a house fire when you were young), standing in a room with all of your best friends who couldn't be happier for you, marrying the love of your life. You had that dream many times even after you got taken by Hydra. It’s what kept you from going insane in the beginning. When things got tough, you’d close your eyes and imagine your wedding day.

Never did you think it would finally come, and it finally did.

Instead of a room filled with a ton of your friends, it’s Natasha. She died giving herself up for the Soul Stone, but when you and Steve returned the stones, they gave her back in exchange for the stone. You didn’t think that was possible but it was, and you brought her home to everyone. 

It’s sad that Tony never knew she made it.

You stand in front of the floor-length mirror and admire the dress you made yourself. You drew inspiration from your mother’s wedding dress. It’s been so long since you’ve seen it but you can recall every detail by memory. It’s not an exact replica but is very similar. Natasha walks up behind you and fixes the dress from the back. It has an open back that clips right behind your neck, and the entire bodice is a flowery lace material. The dress goes all the way down to your feet and is loose and airy, nothing like those puffy dresses people where nowadays.

“You look beautiful,” Natasha smiles.

“Thanks, Nat,” you whisper.

She is your Maid of Honor while Bucky is Steve’s best man. You only have one person because the wedding is so small. Clint offered his farm for you to use which is why it’s so small. The only people in attendance are your closest friends and family--mostly Avengers and their family. There are minimal decorations but it’s very elegant and intimate.

Someone knocks on the door and you two turn to see Sam walk in.

“It’s time.”

“I’ll see you out there.”

Natasha kisses your cheek and leaves the room. When you asked Sam to walk you down the aisle, you could have sworn you saw tears roll down. Your parents are long gone and you wanted the person giving you away to mean something to you. Sam is that person. You and Bcuky are close but by trauma, and Sam was the next best thing.

“Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Are you ready for the rest of your life?”

“Is Steve?” you joke. You put your veil on and smile. “I’m ready.”

Bucky and Natasha go out first followed by Morgan who is your flower girl. Pepper had no problem with letting her little girl be part of your wedding. Toy has been a big part of your life, so having her be the flower girl is like having a part of the wedding. There is a picture of him sitting next to Pepper to symbolize his presence along with everyone else who has died.

Then, you and Sam enter the main ceremony room, and everyone rises. Steve stands at the altar wearing his 40s military uniform that Bucky and Sam stole from one of the museums. It still fits him like a glove. The second he sees you, he immediately gets tears. He never thought he’d get to his day with you. He was positive that a mission would take him out.

Sam reaches the altar and kisses your cheek over the veil before taking a seat in the front. The ceremony doesn’t last very long and you get to your vows quicker than you thought. Both you and Steve have written your own vows, and he lets you go first.

“I don’t know where to start, honestly. Growing up, I had this idea of what I wanted my wedding day to look like. I had the dress picked out, who I wanted my bridesmaids to be, where I wanted the wedding, and what my first song was going to be. Then, I was taken and forced into something I didn’t want to do. I was broken down, beaten, and shaped into what Hydra wanted me to be. I didn’t know I could have the things I wanted. Soon, my mind wasn’t even my own. 

“Then, I met you and it was like I could finally see. It’s like I’ve been in this tunnel all my life and seeing you brought me out of it and into the light. I got Hydra out of my head. I gained control of my life. I took back what they stole from me thanks to you. You saved me in more ways than one, and I can’t believe I get to stand up here and marry you.”

“I had a dream of my own. This was before the military where I wanted to marry a nice girl and make a family of my own. Like you, I was unable to. I had a duty to my country and gave it my all. The guy who went into the ice nearly a century ago had goals, and when I came out of it, those goals changed. I just needed to get through the day and face the next. I didn’t know I could have all this until I met you. You say I saved you when it’s you who saved me. I found myself wishing for the things I did in the 40s. Now I get to have them with you by my side. You’re a dream come true, Y/N.”

The rings you two have are simple ones but hold so much meaning. When you two kiss, everyone stands and cheers. The reception is in the same area as the ceremony but everyone makes room for your and Steve’s first dance as a married couple. It’s sensual. It’s intimate. It’s romantic. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Everyone else disappears since the only person who matters to you at that moment is Steve.

Afterwards, you go off to be with the girls and Steve goes off to be with his boys. Sam, Thor, and Clint toss back shots just as Bucky clasps a hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks.”

“Do I have to have the hurt-her-and-I’ll-hurt-you talk?”

“No,” Steve chuckles.

“You know I’ll do it. I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.”

“I know, and I’d let you.”

“She’d probably do the ass-kicking if we’re being honest,” Sam interjects with a smile.

“Yeah, she would,” Steve laughs.

One of the wedding games you planned is a game where you and Steve are sitting back-to-back with both shoes in hand. You have one of yours and one of his, and he has the other pair. Bucky has cards that he will read and you have to raise a shoe for the person you think is the most like the card.

“This is a great one to start with. Who wears the pants in the relationship?”

You immediately hold up your shoe while Steve holds up his own. Everyone laughs at the dynamic of your relationship, and Bucky moves on.

“Who is the best chef?” Both you and Steve hold up his shoes. “Who is needier when they’re sick?” Again, both of you hold up Steve’s shoes. “Who is the better driver?” This time, you two put up your shoes. You’ve had more practice. “I don’t know, Y/N, I’ve been in a car with you before.”

“You lived, didn’t you?” you grin at Bucky.

Nothing can ruin this moment. Hydra is gone from your head, Thanos is gone, and you can only go up from here.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[kookie-doughs]

Again And Again

Portgas D Ace X Reader

-Amatsuki Y/N decided to stay in the future without her sister upon meeting a friend’s son.

Chapter 9: Do not go gentle into that good night

Edward smirks, "I am a relic of a bygone era! There is no ship that can carry me into the new age! Escape from here, everyone!"

You looked around at your crewmates, the war raging on around you. With a heavy heart, you looked beside you.

"Pops!"

Ace and Luffy...

Tears streamed down your face as you clung tightly to Ace. You couldn't bear the thought of leaving Whitebeard behind, but you knew you had to follow Edward's orders for everyone's safety.

Ace looked at you in worry, his grip on you tightening. He couldn't understand why you were suddenly so emotional.

As numerous marines jump to attack Edward whilst he was distracted with your group, Ace sets the area around Edward ablaze.

In a ring of fire you see Ace bow down with his head hitting the ground.

Edward looks at his son. "Tell me," Ace lifts his head to look at Edward. "Were you happy to have me as your father?"

"Of course I am!" Ace cries.

Edward noticed something different about you. He knew you from years ago, when time travel was a common occurrence for you. He could see the look in your eyes, a look of determination and sorrow that he had not seen in a long time.

Realizing what you had done, he knew something had happened, "Y/N, did you defy my orders last time?" He smiles slightly at you.

You bite your lip to keep a sob from escaping. "Yeah," Your voice broke.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Can I really not save you both?" You cry.

"Try saving the most important one first."

You both get away from the ring to continue running. Jinbe rushed behind you, concern etched on his face.

You nodded, your resolve firm. You knew what you had to do. As much as it pained you to leave Whitebeard behind, you had to focus on saving Ace and protecting your crew.

Akainu slips past Whitebeard, you knew what was coming the danger he poses to Ace.

"Ace, whatever you hear. Don't let go of my hand. Don't stop running."

"Whitebeard Pirates must be a bunch of cowards. Well, considering who your captain is, it's no surprise to me. Because after all, Whitebeard is just a... loser from a bygone era."

You felt Ace falter. You tighten your grip, "Ace... Please." He sees the panic in your eyes. Remembering what was said between you and Edward earlier. He keeps running.

"You know Fire Fist, your real father, Gold Roger, conquered the Grand Line and opened the door to the Great Pirate Era. As a Navy admiral, I shouldn't be the one to say this but he was true to his name: the King of the Pirates! In comparison, what has Whitebeard done?"

Ace continued to run but you can see the change of his pace. His run turning into brisk walk. "Ace, I said don't stop running!" You can feel his hand tightening hold on you.

"I wonder if he really had the intention to fight, I assume that he established a large family somewhere and was satisfied with being a big fish in a little barrel. There are some fools in this world who say he was able to keep the peace on various islands... but in my opinion, all he did was make weak pirates live in fear of him and he thinks that it made him a hero! What a joke! When Roger was around, Whitebeard was always second in billing and even after he died, Whitebeard could never become the King. He was never able to surpass Roger... and that makes him a loser in life! That is the truth about Whitebeard."

At this point Ace had come to a stop. You desperately pull him to keep him moving.

"Ace look at me, please, come on don't let him get to you. Hmm?"

But Akainu's attention shifted to you and Ace, he takes notice of your linked hand. The only thing stopping Ace from falling into his palms.

Akainu's eyes narrowed with a cruel smirk. "Oh, how touching. The great Y/N, the so-called 'Queen of the Pirates,' reduced to running away with a bunch of weaklings. Perhaps your time spent with Whitebeard ruined you. How pathetic!"

Ace's eyes widen at the mention of you. "Ace, I'm fine... come on."

"Did the fact Roger doesn't return your feelings, the fact you were a nobody to him, bring you so low." he continued, sneering. "Unbelievably low, now you're clinging to his son. Let me warn you Fire First, you'll never be as important to her as Roger was! You are nothing but a replacement."

His insults having no effect on you frustrate him. He needed a reaction. He's gotten Ace to stop.

"Its an insult how they refer to you as Queen of the Pirates. You're nothing but a failure, Y/N. You couldn't save your former captain, Roger, in your devastation you leave your people, your family! You left them to die because you were heartbroken. Pathetic."

Ace glares at Akainu as he felt you tense up.

"You were just a weakling back then, and you're still a weakling now," he taunted. "You'll never be able to protect anyone, no matter how hard you try. You're just a burden to everyone around you."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, reopening old wounds that had never fully healed. The memory of Ace passing.

You tighten your hold on Ace. His insult reminded you of your purpose of return. It was to protect Ace. To save him.

You tightly close your eyes and ran. Ace notices your calm reaction to the insults and hesitantly runs with you, still angered by the insults.

Akainu, sensing an opportunity, appeared before you suddenly, catching you off guard. You hadn't anticipated his swift movement, and your eyes widened in shock as his powerful fist came dangerously close to striking you. However, just as the attack seemed inevitable, you felt a force pulling you back, and before you knew it, you were being spun around.

In that split second, you realized that Ace had moved in front of you, bravely taking the attack meant for you. Time seemed to stand still as you watched in frozen disbelief. Once again, you felt the weight of failure bearing down on you, the memories of your past mistake haunting you.

But as you looked at Ace, his determination and selflessness filling his eyes. You couldn't let Ace sacrifice his life. You couldn't let him down again.

Just as it happened in your first attempt. The crew pushed Akainu away from your group.

Luffy this time, wasn't close as he ran ahead. He stared at you and Ace. This time Ace was going to die in your arms.

Ace's weakened state made him lean on you for support, and he gently pulled you closer, his hand caressing your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

"Y/N... Are you okay..?" His whisper sent a shiver down your spine, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"A-Ace," you stammered, your voice trembling with emotion. Despite the chaos and danger surrounding you, you managed to help him sit down, your heart racing with worry.

"Hey, pretty," he said with a weak smile, trying to lift your spirits amidst the dire situation. "Can you let me see your face?"

The tears continued to flow as you gazed into his eyes, his smile etched in your memory. His presence was fading, but you refused to let him go without a fight. Your voice quivered as you spoke, "Ace, please, hang on. We're going to get you out of here, I promise."

As Ace's head grew heavier, he mustered a weak smile and made a request. "Can I... rest my head on your lap?"

Your heart ached as you gently lowered him, carefully cradling his head on your lap. You brushed his hair away from his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. His eyes stayed locked with yours, seeking comfort and reassurance in your presence.

Ace's smile remained. "You don't need to worry about me. Just knowing that you're here with me is enough."

You held his hand tightly, willing him to hold on a little longer. You couldn't bear to lose him again. Not like this. Not when you had come back to change his fate.

"Ace, I love you," you whispered, your voice filled with love and desperation.

His smile grew even softer, and he brought your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on it. "I love you too, Y/N. Always."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried to keep your composure for him. "You're strong, and you're going to make it through this. We'll find a way."

He let out a soft chuckle, though it was clear that even speaking took a toll on his fading strength. "Always the optimist, huh?"

You managed a weak smile, trying to hide your trembling voice. "Always."

Ace's hand reached up to cup your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. "Thank you... for everything," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you kissed his hand, holding it close to your heart. "Thank you, Ace, for being the most amazing person I've ever known. For loving me, for being there for me... You're the reason I came back. I won't let you go, Ace."

He smiled faintly, and you could see the love and gratitude in his eyes. "Y/N... you were my light in the darkest times. You... made my life worth living. Don't ever forget that. I'm sorry you had to go through this twice..."

"Then don't let me go through this again." You cried.

"I should've kissed you... before I sat down." He jokes.

Despite the tears in your eyes, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Ace, you always had a way of making me smile, even in the toughest moments."

He chuckled weakly, his hand still gently caressing your cheek. "I'm glad... I could still do that..."

You leaned down, pressing a tender kiss on his forehead. "I'm not giving up."

His eyes closed briefly, and he let out a soft sigh. "I wish... we had more time... I wanted to see a future with you..."

"I'll make sure you live a future with me."

His smile grew softer, and he squeezed your hand weakly. "Y/N... I love you. Always."

Ace's breathing became shallower, and you held him closer, feeling his heartbeat slowly fading. You could hear the sounds of the battle still raging around you, but in that moment, it felt like time stood still.

As his eyes began to flutter closed, you whispered softly, "I love you too. I'm always going to be here for you okay?"

With those words, Ace took his final breath, his hand still clasped in yours. The weight of his loss was almost too much to bear, but you held onto the love and memories you shared, knowing that he would forever be a part of you.

You look over to Edward, who looked at you with worry. You smile sadly eyes still filled with tears.

"Third times a charm."

~

You found yourself trapped in an unending cycle of loss, reliving the heartbreak of Ace's death multiple times. With each attempt to change fate, new challenges arose.

On the third attempt, Luffy's exhaustion hindered the rescue, while on the fourth, Akainu attacked without taunting. The fifth time, Aokiji became the cause of Ace's demise, and the cycle continued with attempts on counting 12, 17, 21, 37, 48, 52. Despite your best efforts, the pain of losing Ace persisted, and you struggled to find a way to break free from the relentless loop of tragedy.

On each attempt, the pain and grief of losing Ace felt just as raw as the first time. It was a relentless cycle of heartache, and with each failed attempt to save him, the weight of the loss grew heavier. You were trapped in a time loop, destined to relive the agony of losing Ace over and over again.

Each time you returned to the past, you fought with all your strength, trying to alter the course of events. Sometimes it was Akainu, other times Aokiji, and yet other foes who dealt the fatal blow. But the result was always the same – Ace was gone, and you were left devastated.

Despite the countless failures, you refused to give up. Each time you returned to the present, you found the strength to try again. The memory of Ace's smile, his laughter, and the love you shared fueled your determination.

With each attempt, you became more skilled, strategizing and planning to change the future. You sought allies, found new ways to approach the battles, and worked tirelessly to save Ace.

It was an arduous journey, and the pain of loss never lessened, but with each attempt, you grew stronger emotionally. You learned to cherish every moment you had with Ace, even in the face of the impending tragedy.

Your resolve was unyielding, and you would continue to try until you succeeded. No matter how many times you had to go through the loss, you wouldn't stop fighting for the chance to rewrite destiny and save Ace from his tragic fate.

Or so you'd hope...

On your 53rd attempt, the weight of the countless failures and the never-ending cycle of loss made you question if saving Ace at this particular war was even possible or if it was meant to happen. Doubt and despair gnawed at your heart as you wondered if your efforts were in vain, and if fate had a different plan for Ace's life. The constant battle against time and fate left you weary, and you began to wonder if there was a way to change the course of events without repeating the same tragic outcome. Nevertheless, you couldn't bear to give up on Ace, and the love you held for him spurred you to keep searching for a way to alter destiny and bring him to safety.

You made a difficult decision not to go back to the past. The weight of countless failures and the toll it took on your heart made you realize that maybe some things were beyond your control. You couldn't bear the thought of repeating the same tragic events again and again, and so you chose to let go of the past and focus on the present.

In an unexpected turn of events, you found yourself on Women Island with Luffy and Jinbe, accompanied by the Hearts Pirate. The circumstances brought a mix of relief and curiosity.

Did you give up? No. Why did you not regress... you needed answers.

Not a single word came from you since Ace's death. Not when Shanks came, not when Blackbeard came. Nothing.

"Y/N?" An unexpected figure appeared before you—Rayleigh, your former crewmate.

You look at Rayleigh with a mix of shock and exhaustion written all over your face. He could sense that you had gone through a lot, and he could see that you had regressed emotionally due to the repeated attempts.

"So? How many?" Rayleigh asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you respond, "Fifty-three..."

"Why are you here now? Did you give up?" Rayleigh asked, concern evident in his voice.

You shook your head, "No, I haven't given up. I just needed some time to gather my thoughts and emotions. The past attempts... they were overwhelming, and I needed to take a step back. And I have a question to ask you."

"You knew I'd be here?" Rayleigh inquired.

"No, I've always went back after Ace passed." you explained. "The question I had was for Luffy, but I think it's better if I ask you."

Rayleigh nodded, giving you his full attention. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, "I'm going to go back in time and kill Teach before he got the fruit."

He looked at you, "That's not a question."

You took a deep breath before sharing your plan with Rayleigh. "I've thought about it a lot, and I believe the key to preventing all of this from happening lies with Blackbeard—Marshall D. Teach. If I go back to the past again, before he acquires the power of the Yami Yami no Mi, I can stop him from ever becoming the dangerous force he is now."

Rayleigh listened attentively, his expression serious. "Changing the course of events involving a powerful figure like Blackbeard is a dangerous and unpredictable. Are you sure you're willing to take that risk?"

"There's a reason I've only been going back in time during Ace's release instead of going ahead with the plan. Altering the past would have far-reaching consequences, not only for Blackbeard but also for all the relationships and bonds. The thought of potentially losing or changing those connections weighed heavily. I'm going to end up playing God on people."

"I understand your concern," Rayleigh replied, his expression gentle. "Changing the past is a serious decision, and it's natural to worry about the impact it might have on your relationships. But you must also consider the possibility of preventing great pain and suffering. If you can save Ace and countless others from the tragedies that await, it might be worth the risk. You are the one with the power, if you want to do it. Why should you not?"

You look at him again and smile. You get up.

Marking your 54th attempt on saving Ace.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @cinnamonrollscafe @sol-d15

[rawiswhore]

Various WWF Wrestlers x Fem Reader- "Attention Whore"

I apologize as to why I didn't post any fanfics at the end of June and beginning of July---I was in a different town and wasn't using the Internet then because I don't have a laptop, iPad or iPhone.

This fanfiction may be similar to the last fanfic I posted, but whatever.

______________________________________________________________

From 1996 to the beginning of 1998, you always stood by Hunter Hearst Helmsley's/Triple H's side, always leading him to the ring, cheering for him and even doing photoshoots with him.

You never would've cheated on him or left for someone else.

However, at the end of 1997, when the Attitude era was coming about and women were beginning to dress more provocatively, you showed up on a "Monday Night Raw" episode dressed in nothing but a very short towel wrapped around your naked body with matching open toed high heels.

You walked past these male wrestlers lined up, where you were beginning to turn their heads sideways and smiles formed on their faces as they saw you.

Those male wrestlers lined up who looked at you and gave you lots of attention were Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Billy Gunn, Brian Pillman and Jeff Hardy.

Some of the sexiest wrestlers in the WWF.

Triple H, Shawn and Billy had their long hair hanging down.

You, too, had a smile on your face as you walked in that towel.

Those male wrestlers gave you attention in that towel.

Considering you were linked to Triple H and you were his manager when DX started off as Shawn and HHH, he didn't mind you being surrounded by other male wrestlers, especially Shawn.

Although, Triple H may as well be angry at those other male wrestlers giving you attention and you dressing like that for attention.

As those male wrestlers crowded around you with smiles on their faces, you giggled in a high pitched voice while you spoke in a rather high pitched voice different from your other voice.

"There's 5 of you and one of me" you mentioned. "So maybe you should go get a couple more guys"

Your eyes looked at Shawn Michaels while your elbow nudged him.

There are other male wrestlers you wish had been in the WWF so you could catch their attention, such as Rob Van Dam (who did almost join the WWF in 1997), Nova from ECW, Chris Jericho, Scott Hall, Tommy Rogers of the Fantastics, Al Snow/Leif Cassidy (if he shaved his moustache off) and some future WWF stars like Christian Cage and Val Venis, but unfortunately, those wrestlers are in other companies.

This entire moment was modeled after an infamous "Three's Company" episode where Janet puts on a blond wig and changes her personality along with it, even one of the things you said was a reference from that episode.

[imagines--galore]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be comfortable woth writing Steve Rogers x reader who's a seamstress/designer that wears mostly WW2 era clothing?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Fluff. No warnings.

A/N: OMG! I love this ask! Like seriously thank you so much! Also I drew inspiration from Edna Mode from the Incredibles LOL. Also I hope everything I wrote makes sense. Its two in the morning and my fingers won't stop typing : P Anywho! Enjoy!

People were surprised, to say the least, when you would present yourself as a designer. And not just any designer.

You were now in charge of updating, mending and designing uniforms for the Avengers.

Was it a real job title? Not really. But then since when had that stopped Tony Stark? He could update his armor on his own, and adjust it to his liking. The rest of his team, however, did not have the luxury. Bruce didn't need a uniform, while Thor had his own godly outfit. Natasha needed her uniform mended after a brutal fight. Not to mention she needed suits that would keep her warm in cold weather, and allow her skin to breath in the hot weather. Clint required a uniform that was sturdy yet easy to move in, since maneuvering was a big part of his gig. And Steve came back with more then a few rips in his uniform, on more then one occasion.

And with the growing roster of the Avengers, Tony had taken this particular step and hired you as the official designer/seamstress for the Avengers.

Every fabric imaginable was at your disposal. Not to mention the technology. You were working in your dream field, and was loving every second of it.

Plus it gave you time to work on your own projects as well.

And that was creating vintage clothing from the 40s and 50s.

Fashions from the years past had always fascinated you, and though you would love to wear the elegant gowns and other period pieces, the design and cuts of women's clothing from the 40s and 50s wouldn't get you stared at.

At least not much.

Besides, there was another more empowering reason you wore clothes from that era.

The first time you had met the Avengers, was after the Battle of New York. Tony had set you up, and you had met with each team member separately to talk about their new uniforms.

The day you met Steve, you had just finished speaking to Natasha and waved her goodbye. You were sitting on the tall stool by the bar within the Avengers Tower and going over your rough sketches and notes. As was the norm, you were wearing pants and a shirt styled after the 40s fashion, a rare occasion since you adored the skirts and dresses that came with those years. Sensing someone approach you, you looked up, red lips pulling into a bright smile as you saw the Captain approaching.

"Captain, hi." You quickly stood, heels clicking against the marble floor as you did. "I'm Y/n, 'your new designer." He stared at you for a few more seconds, before shaking himself out of whatever stupor he was in and approached you. "Its nice to meet you, Ma'am." You smiled at him. "Call me Y/N." You offered, before hoping onto your stool once more and pulling out an entirely new sketchbook from your bag. It already had a few sketches of the Captain's uniform in it, plus some detailed notes along the margins.

"So, what is it you'd like me to change about your suit?" You asked, smiling at him as you crossed one leg over the other, pencil poised on a new page to start taking notes.

It took a few minutes before Steve began to speak to you openly. He was detailed about what he did or didn't want, and you were precise with your questions as you took notes. Of course the color scheme would remain the same, but you offered to create one that was entirely black, for stealth missions, you explained. He agreed, thinking that perhaps blue and red would stick out like a sore thumb in the shadows.

As you were tracing the shoulder of the uniform from the side, filling in the details as you went along you glanced up at him.

"What about the symbol?" You asked. The Captain stared back at you, confused. "What symbol?"

"Well you have the star as your personal symbol, but now that you're a part of the team, shouldn't you wear an Avengers symbol somewhere?" You gestured to the shoulder you had outlined. "I was thinking perhaps an A right there." You suggested. He glanced at the drawing before looking back up at you. A small smiled pulled at his lips before he chuckled. "I hadn't even thought of that." He admitted. Suddenly his blue eyes lit up and he gestured out a hand.

"May I?" Nodding you quickly handed over the sketchbook and pencil, watching in fascination as he began to do a quick sketch of the symbol he wanted that would represent his alliance. With the way he created the strokes with each sweep of the pencil, precise and elegant, you couldn't help but make a guess.

"Do you draw Captain?" You asked, your eyes never leaving his hand as he began to add in the details such as outlining and shading. The man shrugged. "A little bit." You had a feeling he was being modest. You had worked with designers and had studied alongside future designers, you knew an artist when you saw one.

"What do you think?" He finally asked, sliding the sketchbook back towards you.

Your eyes scanned over what would be the official Avengers logo before grinning.

"Look perfect."

                                             -------------------------

It didn't take long for you and the Captain to be on first name basis. But then again it was the same with Natasha and Clint. While you mostly talked shop with the two assassins, with the Captain, now Steve, it was another story.

It was easy to talk to him, to go into depth when designing a new outfit for him. He was a super soldier, and regular clothing sizes didn't particularly make the cut sometimes. So it was the norm for you to be creating other clothes for him as well. He would come to you with an idea or even a rough sketch and you would make it a reality.

Then there were the mission outfits. Oh you loved those! Adding hidden seams and cuts into Natasha's dresses so she could hide her weapons. Helping Clint create a tuxedo that managed to hide several sharp arrows. Short ones of course, but still good enough to use with a crossbow.

Your work remained consistent and up to par, as did your dress sense. Not a day went by when you didn't wear something dapper whenever you went to work. You could always tell that there was a curious gleam in Steve's eyes whenever you two would interact, but you dismissed it. He probably thought you strange for your dressing style, but it didn't bother you. Tony had taken to joking about your style, but only in jest. He was just as impressed with your skills just as any other team member.

Of all the Avengers, Steve became a good friend. And you had secretly admitted to yourself that those blue eyes and smile did comes as a bonus. Not to mention he was in peak physical condition. If you had the guts you would ask him to model a few of your own personal pieces for you, but you would never come outright and say something like that.

At present you were putting the final touches on Clint's new uniform. He had decided that maybe he needed a little more dark purple and you had complied. Working with Kevlar was a pain though. It was hard to mesh the fabric together and create something that would fit with the man's physique perfectly.

You were getting tired, and your fingers were aching from the numerous pins and needles you had handled that day. Not to mention the constant cutting. Your hand was beginning to cramp and you had decided to call it a day.

Your workplace was stationed at one of the floors of the Avengers Tower and you could see the sun beginning to set. Sighing you kicked off your heels, stretching your toes and sitting back in your chair. You propped your feet up on another chair and leaned your head back. You had only just taken a deep breath when you heard the door slide open. Straightening up, you glanced in the general direction before relaxing.

"Oh Steve, its only you." You went back to your previous posture of relaxing. "Hurtful Y/N, that you think so little of me. I am a Captain after all." He feigned being hurt with a hand to his chest. To play along with his little joke, you instantly jumped to your feet, and stood at attention, saluting him as you did. The expression on your one was one of sheer concentration and attention, prompting the soldier to laugh out loud as he approached you.

"At ease, soldier." He patted you gently on the shoulder. You broke the salute to grin up at him. Your gaze flitted to the torn page he held. "New project for me? You do know how to spoil a girl Steve." You said with a teasing nudge to his shoulder as you took the page from him. He shrugged in response. "I just thought it'd be a fun little side project for you. You're always saying you love those." You hummed in agreement as your eyes scanned his rough sketching, already making calculations and measurements in your head.

"It'll take me a couple weeks to get to this though, I'm swamped." You gestured to the multiple projects she had laid out on rows and rows of tables. Steve quickly nodded. "Of course, work comes first." You sighed. "I wish I'd have extra time for my own projects as well, it took me two weeks to complete this." You gestured to the dress you were wearing.

Your outfit for the day was one of your own designs, and it was one of your best, in your opinion. You had paired it with shoes that matched the color of the scarf. For your hair you had gone quite simple, simply adjusting the waves and curls and allowing them to frame your features.

Steve did a once over of your dress. He was silent for a few seconds. "What?" You asked, frowning at the sudden silence. "Can I ask you something Y/N?" He said. Was he actually looking nervous about what he wanted to ask. You gave a nod, encouraging him to go on.

"Why do you dress like that?" He asked.

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. "Like what?"

He shrugged before gesturing to your overall appearance. "Like you don't belong in this era."

"Oh! Oh my gosh! Steve! Is my wearing clothes from the 40s bothering you? I should've realized I am so sorry!" Your apologies were cut off when he shook his head. "No! No! Its not that." He seemed to be struggling to find the words.

"I mean that since I woke up I've only ever seen women dress in today's fashions. And I always thought dames would dress according to the latest fashion." God knows he had been aware of the fact. Bucky's sisters had always been obsessed with the latest trends. And he was sure that if they had seen you, they would've swooned over your outfits.

You gave a small sigh of relief. "Oh is that all? I thought maybe you didn't like the way I dressed." He shook his head. "I like how you dress, its like being back home. A little." There was no doubt there was a hint of sadness in his eyes this time when he spoke, and your heart went out to him. "Well I'm glad the way I dress has helped remind you of home." You said, giving him a small smile.

"And to be honest," You continued. "There is a bit of a sentimental reason why I dress like this." A quirk of an eyebrow on his part prompted you to go on so you did.

"My grandmother was a factory worker during World War II. When I was little she used to tell me how during those years women really started to come into their own. With the men gone, women stepped up and started to take charge of small businesses and working jobs that men had otherwise occupied previously. And because of this women had to wear practical clothing, like pants and shorter skirts. Sure there was also a fabric shortage, but it only helped women dress practically. Not to mention they had to cut their hair to keep it out of the way."

You glanced down at yourself, smoothing the front of your dress before looking back up at him and continued. "I dress like this because I love the style. It makes me feel pretty and I'm able to do my work efficiently." You paused. "But most of all, I wear them to remind me that women have come a long long way then simply being house-makers and small unknown business owners. And I honestly really just admire the way women took charge while their men were away." You grinned. "Talk about real empowerment."

By the time you finished talking there was a smile on Steve's face and a lingering sadness as well. You reached out to lay your hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" He nodded. "Yeah, just what you said, reminded me of a whole lot of women who I knew took charge on the battle front." He had met some brave soldiers during WWII, but he had also met some incredibly fearless women who were ready to charge the Nazis. Of course they weren't allowed to, so they tended to the wounded, drove them to hospitals, acted as liaisons and secretaries. Their roles were just as important as that of a soldier. And then there was Peggy.

Steve could see a glimmer of that fierceness in you that he had seen in Peggy. He had made his peace with the fact that she had lived her life. And now looking at you, a small thought took root in his mind. Maybe he could find someone to spend his life with as well?

"If you're done here." He gazed around the room, hands now stuffing in his pockets as his feet shuffled nervously where he stood. "You want to get something to eat?"

Alright, so hadn't been expecting that. A bright smile bloomed on your face and you gave Steve a little curtsy. "Such a gentleman. Let me just grab my bag."

He waited for your patiently by the door as you quickly pulled on your shoes and grabbed your handbag, tugging on your gloves as you went. "So where to?" You asked as you stepped up next to him. He grinned, offering you his arm which you gladly took, before answering.

"I know a really good 40s themed diner?"

"Sounds divine."

[cherryblossom-heart]

Red Chrysanthemums (S.R. Series) (ModernAU)

Steve Rogers x Reader 

Masterlist

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (each chapter will have it's own warnings), childhood bestfriends to enemies (one sided) to ?, fluff, mentions of ptsd and mental health, grief.

A/N: So this is my new series I've been working on. I'm already half way through the first chapter and planing on the second one. So far I'm thinking on posting one chapter a week but that will depend on how busy I get with college, I might even post two chapters a week, who knows.

Summary: |n the Victorian era, it was common custom to use flowers as a means to convey messages that couldn’t be spoken out loud. A silent dialogue that could only be told through a variation of colors and arrangements.

Some people would call it poetic; others would call it art. You would call it love.

Many years ago, when your smile was bright and your dreams were big, a scrawny boy from Brooklyn would get a red chrysanthemum from his mother’s flower shop every week. And every week the flowers would find their way to your locker. 

That scrawny boy from Brooklyn was your best friend. Together, you would spend countless hours helping his mother. Learning how to take care of the flowers and what each one meant. Smiling, laughing, and playing. The scrawny boy from Brooklyn would draw the flowers, making a guide for you to always remember their meaning. You, on the other hand, would compose poems for him, each one of them always ending with some heliotrope in the left corner.

Years went by, and you stayed the same. You still took care of the flowers, you still wrote poems with them, and you still enjoyed looking at the drawings in your handmade guidebook.

Except the now not-so-scrawny boy from Brooklyn didn’t make you laugh anymore. Nor did he keep you company. Years had gone by without a word from him, and some days you could pretend he was never part of your life. Sometimes it was easy to pretend you didn’t know how his lips felt against yours or how his hands felt on your body.

Sometimes it was easier to pretend because red chrysanthemums didn’t find their way to you anymore.

Series Masterlist

Snowdrop (03/17)

Lilac (03/24)

Marigold (TBA)

Hyacinth (TBA)

Red Chrysanthemum (TBA)

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Buy me kofi?