#this being an end of something familiar and a beginning of something foreign. nat i can't do this why do we make everything AWFUL

[sokoviansimp]

Control pt. 2

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader, bestfriend!Nat x bestfriend!reader

✒ Summary: New experiences provide clarity and confusion as you begin your training with Wanda.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, mind control, early dom/sub dynamics, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: sorry this took so long, I'm a slow writer and I was really sick for two weeks.

✒ Word Count: 8973

✒ Read Time: 20 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

After weeks of recovery, you were finally allowed to sleep in your own room. Though, to your surprise, all of your belongings were moved from your room at the SHIELD base to one inside the compound. The thought of being in another foreign place instead of the comfort of your familiar bedroom was almost as bad as knowing a team of agents had gone through all of your private things.

You were brought up to a room on the third floor. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but it had just so worked out that floor two housed the males on the team, and floor three had the females, which was just Wanda and Natasha, and now you. Nat wanted to keep you close during your recovery and introduction to the team. She also felt it was fitting for you to be close to Wanda if she was meant to be your mentor.

Nat made sure to show you around the entire floor as she introduced you to your new room, “I’m sure you’re tired so I won’t stay, but if you need anything I’m right down the hall, and Wanda is right next door,” she assured.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said genuinely, thankful for everything she’s done for you throughout this experience. She was the best friend you had and she always earned that position with the way she cared for you. The two of you were soulmates in a way that sometimes, only friends can be.

Once you were left alone in your room, you quickly realized how tired you truly were. It was late in the afternoon by this point and you had a long day as doctors came in and out to give you dismissal plans and best practices. While it wasn’t your typical bedtime yet, you decided that you’d rather get rest now so that you could have a full day back to the real world tomorrow.

As you moved around the room to get ready for bed, you appreciated the effort of whoever transported your things. It was clear that they attempted to put everything as closely as possible back to the way it was in your previous living arrangements. The room was a different layout so it was impossible to be exact, but you could tell that they put care in settling you in.

Even in the new environment, it felt nice to go through your nightly routine again. It really made the moment when you finally sunk down into the fresh sheets that much cozier. You put on some sitcoms from the 2000s, but you knew you’d fall asleep before it was over. The television was loud enough to understand with captions and soft enough to allow you to drift off to sleep as you wished.

About a week goes by as Nat familiarizes you with all of the amenities and protocols to get you adjusted as a permanent resident of the compound, and when she’s busy, she has Wanda take over. You notice that your tiredness isn’t improving at all. You’ve always been known for being chill and easygoing, and you always felt tired in some way, that was just normal for you. Since the incident, though, your exhaustion has felt like it’s grown tenfold. The doctors expected that you’d be nearing full recovery by 2 weeks, but you felt something must be off track.

By the end of the week; you’re getting sick of being babied, and even though you haven't fully recovered you think you might just go crazy without some fresh air. You didn’t make your way down to the kitchen for breakfast until almost 11:30am, where Wanda was already preparing lunch.

“Got a full night’s sleep?” Wanda sarcastically pondered aloud as you tiredly shuffled through the cabinets for some ceral.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grogily answered as you added milk to your frosted flakes.

“Maybe you should go back to bed then,” Wanda suggested

As if the suggestion alone gave you a burst of energy, you sprung back, “Oh no. I am done laying around like a potato! I am not spending a single solitary second in my room until I get outside for some fresh air.” there was a beat of silence once you finished your short rant, as if Wanda felt like you needed a breather after your small outburst.

“Alright- Well we can go out back and work on controlling your powers,” she offered once the silence ran its course.

“Yes! Perfect!” you confirmed as you took the first bite of your cereal.

Once Wanda finished up her lunch, she sat across from you to eat in mostly silence. It was a comfortable silence though, the crunch of your cereal breaking it ever so slightly. The two of you sat there and scrolled on your phones until your food was finished. You thoroughly cleaned your plate while you waited for Wanda to finish up her meal.

Even though you were quite familiar with the compound, visiting Nat often. You had no idea what surrounded the area. Adversely, Wanda spent a lot of time exploring the terrain that the compound sat within, especially when she was first adjusting to her new home. She explored to take her mind off of the events that led her to reside at the compound and forget about the clinical aesthetic that lacked any personality or comfort. It gave her an outlet that felt like an escape from reality.

“Where are we going?” You felt like she was leading you to some secret secluded area where no one could hear you scream, and in a way, she was.

“To work on your control,” that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. So you did what you do best, offer a snarky response.

You huffed, “That’s exactly what someone would say before leading me to certain torture, where no one can hear me scream,” you said with a dramatic undertone.

She looked back at you, slightly chuckling, “If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to do it,” she bit back confidently with a sly smile creeping up, giving you a shiver down your spine that you blamed on the wind.

The spot that she settled at overlooked a mountain in the distance with a river flowing between the perch where the two of you stood. By the lookout, there was a long log makeshift to act as a bench, which Wanda frequently used to sit and ponder her thoughts and feelings. No one else really knew this spot existed other than her, she never spoke about it or showed anyone else until now. She wasn’t too keen on showing you her sacred getaway spot, but it was the safest place she could think of to practice your powers.

You gushed over the gorgeous area as soon as the overlook became clear and revealed its true beauty. The trees became more sparse as you walked, and the view opened up for you showcasing the natural landscape, “Wow, this is- it’s beautiful out here. I never knew this spot existed.”

“Yeah, no one does and I’d like to keep it that way,” Wanda said pointedly, ensuring that you weren’t going to start blabbing about it to the entire compound. If Tony got wind of it, surely he’d start building infrastructure around it and Wanda would lose her favorite spot.

Your hands shot up in defense, “Of course, I won’t tell a soul,” you confirmed.

Wanda, with an unamused look in your direction, “Not even Natasha.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. Well, glad you clarified. Not even Natasha. Where should we tell them we are?” You asked, trying to come up with a story now because you aren’t very good at lying or even withholding information from your best friend, especially if you have to think it up on the spot.

“They won’t ask.”

Unfortunately for you, even if she doesn't ask, chances are high that you’d offer up the information accidentally anyway. You needed to come up with a cover story now to get it out of the way so that you dont have to come up with an explanation on the spot, “Well, what if they do? I just feel like we should be on the same page here.” you pushed.

“Y/N, it’s not that deep. Just say that we went to the other side of the compound grounds. See the river here?” you nodded, shifting your focus to the flowing water, “It spills into a massive lake on the other side of the compound.”

You acknowledged her explanation and with that, you were able to carry on with whatever Wanda had planned for you. She didn't have a particularly thought-out plan in place, but she had an outline of the steps she figured you would need to go through to grasp control of your abilities.

In order to help you, she needed to know what she was working with and how much power you truly wielded. After plenty of hesitation from you and coaxing from her, you outstretched your arm toward the mountain, “Go on, give it everything you’ve got,” Wanda encouraged.

Try as you might, nothing happened. Your muscles tensed as you attempted to make something happen, but you were stood there looking like a fool, “It’s- nothing’s happening!” you grunted as you let your arm fall back down to your side in frustration.

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, “Wow, finally something you’re not perfect at on the first try.” she claimed.

This hit a bit of a soft spot for you, “Contrary to popular belief, Maximoff, I’m rarely good at anything on my first try. I spent countless hours of practice and training to be where I am today.”

“Try again then” Wanda responded plainly, not fully convinced of the pity card you were playing.

You outstretched your arm again, trying to make something happen, but nothing did. Frustration began taking over and you tried again, with all your might you were trying to make something, anything, happen.

Wanda saw the way you became aggravated and quickly put a stop to it when she noticed your face getting red. Even though she enjoyed watching you struggle, she was nervous the effort you were putting in could become a hazard if you suddenly released the right type of energy.

“Ok, that’s enough. Take a breather,” she said as she reached out to put your hand back at your side and gently rubbed your arm in a soothing motion to calm you down. You took a breath, gathering yourself back together.

“Let’s try this,” Wanda started as she captured your gaze, “Close your eyes,” she waited for you to follow suit, but you hesitated, afraid of the vulnerability, “come on. Just do it,” she pushed, and you starkly fell into line. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the way you jolted to follow her command.

“Good,” she approved, which brought that same tingle to your body from earlier. You’re not sure that you’ve ever heard praise leave her mouth directed your way. The redhead reached out with a featherlike touch and glided her pointer finger along your arm, “Now take a deep breath and focus on this feeling,” she moved from your left arm to the top of your neck, dragging down the middle of your back. It felt like your skin was on fire at this point, every small touch reverberating 10-fold across your body. “Feel how the energy in your body moves.” She practically whispered in a hushed tone.

You could feel it, everything was so sensitive. You weren’t sure if it was because you were actually paying attention to the way the air met your skin, or because of the way Wanda was gliding her fingers across, “Do you feel that?” Wanda questioned, barely audible so as to not break your concentration, causing you to slowly nod in confirmation as you continued to breathe slowly.

Removing her fingers from your skin, Wanda took a step back from you, “Now keep that same focus and raise your left arm out in front of you.” You did as you were told, slowly raising your arm and letting it hang until she gave further instruction, “Perfect, now shift that focus to your left hand. Don’t pay attention to anything else,” she stated firmly, “just my words and the feeling of energy flowing to your hand”

She could tell you were concentrating hard by the way your brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Now, imagine the energy flowing from the tips of your fingers. Concentrate everything to your hand and imagine it pushing out.”

You did as she said, and you were so focused on the feeling in your hand that any minuscule movement felt similar to a creaky floorboard. Soon enough, your hand started to tingle and you even felt the temperature begin to rise.

“That’s it, now push it through, get rid of it.” Wanda guided. You could feel the energy slowly reverberating from your hand in waves, it was slow at first but once it was out you quickly ramped up to a more sizable wave of low-frequency acoustic energy.

You were quickly losing control of it as the seismic waves grew quicker than you anticipated. Without even knowing what happened, you felt a comforting fog take over your mind, and your arm quickly dropped to your side. You stood there in complete bliss until the fog faded fully from your mind, “Y/N?” Wanda interrupted, “How are you feeling?”

You turned around to face her, “Tired,” you said with hooded eyes. Using your powers took a lot out of you, especially when you were already tired to begin with, “-but, that felt amazing!”

Wanda smiled in return, “I know, getting a hang of your powers is a really good feeling, I remember when I-”

“No, the feeling that came after, it was like my brain shifted and went into a different state. It was so relaxing. Does that happen to you when you use your powers too?”

That wasn’t the answer Wanda was expecting, “Oh, no Y/N. What you felt was me, using my powers on you. I noticed you were having trouble keeping pace with the volume of waves, so I stepped in to break off the outburst,” she explained.

“Oh.” that made sense, you weren’t sure how you were able to stop so easily when moments before it felt like you were losing control. That feeling though, god it felt amazing. Part of you craved it as if everything fell into place in that moment. “Can we go back now? I’m so tired,” you asked as a yawn escaped like a bookend to your query.

“Already? We just got here.” Wanda teased before she remembered you’re still in recovery mode. “Yeah, I’m really tired,” you slurred as fatigue slammed into you similar to the force of a freight train and you visibly stumbled trying to keep upright. Wanda quickly caught you and guided you over to the nearby rock to sit for a moment, “I-I’m sorry, I just-” you started to apologize but Wanda cut you off, “Y/N stop, you don’t need to apologize.” she reassured you, and when you looked up to meet her gaze you were surprised to see the complete absence of anger or disgust, something you weren't used to.

Once you got ahold of your bearings, the two of you headed straight to the compound. Upon entering, you immediately plopped onto the nearest thing available to sleep on, which just happened to be the couch in the common room, not even bothering to make the trek upstairs to your bedroom.

“Y/N, I think we should go to the med bay and get you checked out,” Wanda stated trying to urge you off of the couch.

“Mmm, later,” you responded groggily as if you were half asleep already.

“Come on, surely your bed is cozier than this,” Wanda persisted, but there was no response this time. She stood there for a couple of seconds longer, staring at your form and waiting to see your chest rise and fall a couple of times before heading off to the medbay to get Bruce’s opinion. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, and she would surely never admit it, but she cared about your well-being.

Bruce assured Wanda that she was right in bringing this to his attention, while not urgent, it would be best to get you checked out. You should be recovered enough by this point that extreme exhaustion shouldn’t come so easily.

You woke up a few hours later and after pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you headed up to your room. Hearing the movement, and soft noise of the TV turning on through the walls of your room, the woman next door made her way over to knock on your door.

“Come in!” you called from the bed, as you kept your attention on the TV knowing it was only Nat coming in to hang out.

“How are you feeling?”

Taken off guard by a different voice, you did a double take, “Wanda? Sorry I was expecting Nat. You just caught me off guard. I’m feeling better, just needed a nap.” you explained, trying to straighten your posture and appear like you’ve miraculously healed with that short nap.

“That’s good! I spoke to Bruce and-” Wanda began, before you cut in, “Spoke to Bruce? What? Why? I’m fine!” you blurted out, hating the thought of being brought back to medbay for further testing, you’ve always hated doctors, and especially hospitals. With how much time you’ve spent in a hospital the last month, if you never went back, it’d be too soon.

“He said you shouldn’t be tired anymore, and it’d be good to get checked out.” She explained.

You shook your head, “I’m fine Wanda. This is nothing new for me, being tired is my normal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the best part is coming up.” You say motioning to the sitcom you had playing on the tv.

“When Clair tells Phil that she was too lazy to wait in line for his iPad?” Wanda challenged knowing exactly what episode you were watching, figuring you were just trying to get rid of her.

“No. Well, kind of I guess, but after that Phil goes to the batting cages as a coping mechanism.” you clarified.

“How is that the best part?” Wanda pushed for a more in depth explanation.

Part of you felt like you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, but another deeper part of you almost wanted to open up and let Wanda into all the details of your life, “Softball was a big part of my childhood, so it always felt like the batting cages were a safe place for me too, a place to stop overthinking and just focus on things like my stance or the angles I caught the ball at.”

It’s not the answer Wanda expected, but it made a lot of sense now, “You crash birthdays there too, or is that just a Phil thing?”

You both let out a laugh, “No, no. Phil takes the cake on that one.”

“Mind if I join?” she phrased it as a question, but she closed the door and moved to sit next to you on your bed before receiving an answer, and treating it more as a statement.

Not knowing how to decline at that point, or if you even wanted to you just kind of shook your head awkwardly and turned the volume up. The two of you sat in silence, other than the crunch of your cereal and the laughter you shared at the funny parts.

Together you watched about 2.5 episodes before the cozy atmosphere lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Wanda hadn’t even noticed you were sleeping until she glanced over because you weren’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t help but take note of your contorted position, clearly uncomfortable.

Concern etched subtly across her features, Wanda gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your deep sleep. "Hey, Y/N," she whispered softly, "you're sleeping in a pretty awkward position. You should move."

Y/N stirred, emitting a soft whine in response, but made no effort to adjust her position. Wanda sighed softly, realizing that coaxing Y/N awake might prove to be a challenge. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N's face, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Wanda murmured affectionately, her fingers tracing your cheek. "Fine, I guess I'll take care of you then."

With careful hands, Wanda eased you into a more comfortable position, tucking a pillow under your head and arranging the blankets around you. As she watched you settle into a deeper sleep, a warmth that she hadn’t expected filled Wanda's heart.

With that realization, she hurried out of your room as quickly as she could without disturbing you and pushing any positive feeling she suddenly felt toward you as far away as she could. God, she couldn’t stand you. Once she got back to her own quarters she asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to send both you and Bruce a reminder to look into your exhaustion so that she wouldn’t have to bring it up with you again.

Your footsteps quickened as you rounded the corner, hoping to evade Bruce's watchful gaze. The prospect of returning to the medbay filled you with a sense of unease, a heavy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Bruce, Wanda, and now even Natasha had all been insistent on your follow-up examination, but you continued to make excuses and delay the inevitable. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the cold, clinical atmosphere of the medbay sent shivers down your spine, stirring up memories you'd rather forget.

With each passing moment, your anxiety mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach at the mere thought of facing medical procedures and probing questions. You knew Bruce and Nat meant well, you were still on guard with Wanda, but the fear of hospitals and medical procedures was deeply ingrained within you. Years spent avidly making sure no one else was privy to this fear because being a SHIELD agent requires bravery and courage, so how could you be a good agent and simultaneously be afraid of the doctor? You couldn’t. No one could know.

As you ducked into a nearby corridor looking over your shoulder, you were relieved to find Bruce's figure out of sight. But the guilt gnawed at you, knowing you were avoiding someone who was only trying to help for the sake of your own discomfort.

Yet, the fear of hospitals felt overwhelming, you felt a sort of primal instinct that seemed to grip you tighter with each step. You couldn't bring yourself to face it head-on, not yet anyway.

With a heavy sigh, you resolved to ignore the issue until it went away. For now, you’d continue to dodge Bruce's attempts at persuasion.

Days passed with you mostly keeping to yourself, Nat was away on a mission for a few days so that made things a bit easier. When you did venture out of your room for things like food and drinks, you made sure to scout out the area before entering to ensure you wouldn’t run into anyone.

As Wanda busies herself in the kitchen, the air is infused with an enticing medley of aromas that dance and mingle, creating a sensory symphony.

The rich, savory scent of sautéed onions fills the air, their sweet fragrance wafting from the skillet as Wanda expertly caramelizes them to perfection. The gentle sizzle of the onions echoes through the kitchen, a comforting sound that signals the beginning of a culinary masterpiece.

Next comes the earthy aroma of garlic, its pungent essence mingling with the sweetness of the onions to create a harmonious blend of flavors. As Wanda minces the garlic cloves with practiced precision, the kitchen is enveloped in the warm embrace of this aromatic duo.

“Hey Wanda, Have you seen Y/N?” Bruce asks, entering the kitchen and immediately bing hit with the aroma of Wanda’s Solyanka dish, “Mmm, smells good in here!” he added

Wanda smiled at the compliment as she turned to Bruce, “Not in a couple of days, how’d her check-in go?” she asked while continuing to stir the dish.

“It hasn’t, I think she may be avoiding me.” He deadpanned

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, when I first mentioned a follow-up examination to her. She very suddenly had a bunch of things to do and ran off, and I haven't seen her since. This was 4 days ago.” Bruce explained as he rummaged through the fridge for a drink.

Wanda nodded as the gears began to turn in her brain, she let out a hum, “Interesting. F.R.I.D.A.Y where is Y/N now?” she spoke aloud to the artificial assistant.

“Y/N is currently practicing archery in the training sector,” F.R.I.D.A.Y informed.

“Well, at least she’s not in bed,” Wanda dryly chuckled, adding the last bits of tomato to the pot.

Bruce nodded, “Yea, I’d still like to get that follow-up in though. I have a meeting in about 10 minutes, do you think you could talk to her?”

“What, why me?” she practically whined.

Bruce smiled, almost devilish, and simply said “You’re her mentor.” before leaving the room with his glass of mango juice.

Wanda rolled her eyes as she turned back to the pot on the stove, it was almost done. She just needed to put it on low to simmer for a bit. Though, as she made her way out of the kitchen, she almost felt a sense of excitement. Must’ve been because her dish was coming along so nicely, because there’s no way she would ever be excited to see you. Right?

As Wanda made her way to the training sector, her steps purposeful and determined, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that had been gnawing at her since Bruce had mentioned your unscheduled appointments in the medbay.

Spotting you across the training room, Wanda approached with a gentle smile, hoping to broach the subject delicately. But as she drew nearer, she noticed the tension in your posture, the furrow of your brow, and the restless energy that seemed to radiate from your figure.

"Hey, Y/N," Wanda greeted softly, her tone gentle as she approached, "I was looking for you. Bruce mentioned you haven't been to see him yet. Is everything okay?"

Your reaction was immediate, a defensive edge creeping into your voice as you shrugged off Wanda's concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just been busy with training, you know how it is."

Wanda wasn't convinced. She could see through the facade, recognizing the telltale signs of agitation and avoidance. Something was clearly bothering you, and she could see it was something you weren't ready to share.

"Wanda, I'm fine," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need to see Bruce. It's not a big deal. I’m not even tired anymore, I’m literally shooting arrows right now. Would a tired person be doing that?" you reasoned in a rambling fashion.

But Wanda could sense the underlying fear in your words, the unspoken truth you were trying so hard to conceal. She also knew better than to push, because she knew better than anyone that some wounds ran deeper than others and required patience and understanding to heal.

With a reassuring smile, Wanda reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder and before she could even filter her words, her mouth started spewing, "Okay, Y/N. Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. No judgments, I promise."

Your tense expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in your eyes before confusion came crashing in, “Uh- are you feeling ok?” not only was that possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said, but you were pretty sure it was also the only nice thing Wanda has ever said to you.

Trying to build back her stone-cold composure against you, Wanda snapped back, “What? Have you never had someone see that you’re hurting and be nice to you? God Y/L/N, don’t read too much into it.” she scoffed and turned to leave the training gym, “Class at 6:30 tomorrow morning, don’t be late!” she yelled out on her way to the door, without even turning back around to face you, “OH! And meet up with Bruce!”

“I AM FINE!” you shouted back.

You made sure to go to bed early that night so that you’d be able to get up early enough to make your meeting with Wanda without some sarcastic comment about your tardiness. It was still difficult but you needed to be on time to help prove your point that you don’t need Bruce, and you don’t need a follow-up exam.

The spot was a lot chillier than the last time you were there, you could still see the morning dew on the grass as the wind softly whipped through the clearing with crisp morning air.

Wanda was already there when you arrived, it was still dark but you could see her scarlet magic carrying her through the air as she set up targets across the way.

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Wanda commented as she landed back on the ground on your side of the clearing.

“Hey, I was ON TIME. You can’t complain about that.” you defended.

She looked at you with a devilish grin and smugly claimed, “Does S.H.I.E.L.D. teach their agents anything anymore? On-time is late and 10 minutes early is on time.”

You just rolled your eyes in response as you changed the subject to ask about the new additions to the terrain, “What are those for?” you said pointing across the river.

“Something for you to aim at. Come, follow me.” she gestured as she began scaling a nearby boulder. It was easy enough to climb up the side of, almost like nature created it’s own version of stairs. The top provided an even better view of the clearing and a clear visual of where the sky hangs over the mountain.

Wanda made herself comfortable sitting at the top, leaving enough room for you to sit next to her as she patted the ground gesturing for you to join her, “What are we doing up here?” you asked, cautious of what she had planned for you.

“Gosh, what’s with all the questions Y/L/N? Why don’t you just go with the flow for once in your life”

“Fine.” you agreed as you took the spot next to her.

A couple of beats of silence pass as you both stare into the darkness that still covers the sky when Wanda finally turns to you, “Mornings are my favorite time to be out here.” she admitted.

“Why? It’s cold.”

Instead of immediately addressing your question, she turned back to the sky and took a deep breath. As if on queue, the sun slowly started to peek out from behind the mountain and paint the sky with warm hues like a work of art, “That’s why.”

“Wow,” you took it all in as you sat there in awe. The two of you shared a comfortable silence until the sun had completed its ascent over the mountain line.

As you struggled to harness your newfound powers, frustration simmered beneath the surface. Despite Wanda's surprisingly patient guidance, controlling the unpredictable energy coursing through your veins proved to be a daunting task.

With each failed attempt, your frustration mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach as you grappled with the overwhelming force of your abilities. But amidst the chaos, there was a flicker of something else—a thrill that coursed through your veins whenever Wanda intervened to take control.

Wanda watched you closely, her brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed the situation. She could sense your struggle when the raw power of your abilities threatened to spiral out of control. With a steady hand, Wanda reached out, her telekinetic powers weaving through the air as she penetrated your mind, guiding her movements with a gentle yet firm touch.

As Wanda assumed control, a wave of relief washed over you, a sensation that was both exhilarating and disconcerting. You surrendered to Wanda's influence, relinquishing control with a sense of surrender that both frightened and intrigued you.

But beneath the surface, there was a secret you dared not admit—a part of you relished in the feeling of giving up control, the intimacy of connection ignited a fire within you that couldn't quite be extinguished. It was a forbidden thrill, tainted by your tumultuous history and the unspoken tension that lingered between the two of you.

As the training session continued and you started to get the hang of it a bit more, there were a few times that you feigned a lack of restraint, the occasional slip-up, a deliberate ploy to elicit Wanda's intervention once more. To relish in the feeling of her control. You were ashamed of the forbidden desires that stirred deep down whenever Wanda's telekinetic touch enveloped your mind, binding the two of you together in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Wanda was quite literally inside of your mind, she knew what you were doing, and still, she played along. She recognized the subtle cues in your behavior. She understood the unspoken desire that lingered beneath the surface, mirrored in her own developing longing for intimacy.

Instead of reprimanding you for your deliberate slip-ups, Wanda chose to covertly lean into the unspoken tension that crackled between you. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she amplified her telekinetic influence. Your mind clouded with a thick fog, nearly impossible to see through, keeping your thoughts tame as you subconsciously followed Wanda’s lead.

Loving the feeling of having a complete hold on your mind, she reveled in not only the way that you hung on her every command, but also in the way you enjoyed it. She was going to have fun with this, give you small tastes until you’re begging for more.

Slowly, she released the hold she had taken over your mind. As the fog started the thin out, the first thing you heard was Wanda calling out your name with an artificial tinge of worry, “Y/N?” You blinked rapidly a few times before fully coming back to your senses, “are you ok?” her words were soft and endearing.

“Yea, uh,” As if the world instantly got the right prescription, everything cleared right up, “Think we can call it? I need to go lie down,” you admitted. Wanda wanted to decline your request, she was actually really enjoying herself, “Yea, of course.”

You had been laying in your bed for 20 minutes now, unable to rest because your mind kept replaying the events of your training session with Wanda. You weren’t sure if it felt so good for her to take over your mind like that because it was something you craved or because it was her. It could’ve been both, but surely she doesn’t feel the same about you. In fact, with the way you constantly get underneath each other’s skin, surely she despised you.

It wasn’t fair to her, for once she tried being helpful and you’re practically drooling over the thought of more. You had to remove yourself from the situation before it became too much and you made a complete fool of yourself. Getting up from your bed, you decided the only thing that could get you out of your mentorship with Wanda would be found in Tony’s lab.

“Tony!” with his back to the door, you noticed the slight startle in his figure, he wasn’t expecting anyone, “How’s the device thing coming along for my powers?” you asked, taking the seat across from him.

Once you were seated across from him, he raised his gaze from the object in his hands to meet your eyes, “The inhibitor?” you nodded, “yea, that.”

“I thought Wanda was teaching you how to use your powers? I stopped working on it because I figured you didn't need it,” this was the last thing you wanted to hear, this was your way out. You needed this thing as quickly as possible.

“Oh, Wanda agreed that it would be good for me to have it. That it would actually help me to learn how to tame them.” you lied through your straight-ass teeth but Tony believed you. While someone like Natasha would’ve seen right through that charade, Tony sure as hell wasn’t an Avenger because he was a super spy, intelligence can only get you so far in the detective game.

“Ok, i’ll have it to you in the next couple of days. I’ll just need to run some tests on your blood to callibrate it correctly, can you go down to the med lab today?”

Oh here we go, you’ll either have to face your fear of medical or keep hiding your budding feelings for Wanda. Surprisingly this is exactly what it took for you to get your follow up exam and run even more tests.

Bruce was surprised to see you, and even though your attempt at convincing him you werent avoiding him fell short, he decided not to pry. He was just happy you were here now.

The follow up exam wasn’t nearly as bad as you had built it up in your head. They just asked a few questions, took some tests and sent you on your way. That’s how it always is though, and next time it’ll be the same way. You conjure these irrational thoughts and then it builds and builds.

As Natasha returned to the compound , you could hardly contain your excitement. You missed her presence, and you were looking forwards to hearing all about her mission.

"Nat!" you exclaimed as you spotted Natasha entering the common area, a grin spreading across your face. "You're back!"

Natasha's lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted you with a hug. "Hey, Y/N. It's good to see you too," she said, returning the embrace.

The two of you settled onto the couch together, the familiar comfort of your friendship easing the tension of Natasha's recent mission. As you caught up on each other's lives, swapping stories and sharing laughs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that your friend was back.

"So, how was the mission?" you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Natasha's expression softened, a hint of weariness shadowing her features. "It was… intense," she admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "But we got the job done."

“Intense, how?”

Natasha settled back into the couch, her gaze distant as she recounted the events of her mission. "We were sent to extract a high-value target from a hostile territory," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and intensity.

"It started off smoothly enough," she continued, her words measured. "But things quickly escalated. We encountered heavy resistance from enemy forces, and what was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a full-blown firefight."

You listened intently, as your expression reflected the gravity of Natasha's words. Flashbacks of your recent mission sitting at the forefront of your mind as she recounted the events. You knew firsthand the dangers of fieldwork, but hearing Natasha's account reminded you of the risks she faced on a daily basis.

"We managed to secure the target, but not without casualties," Natasha said quietly, her gaze turning inward as she remembered the sacrifices made during the mission.

You reached out, offering Natasha a reassuring squeeze of your hand. "I'm sorry, Nat. That’s never easy," you said softly, voice filled with empathy.

She offered a grateful smile, appreciating your insight. "Yea," she admitted, her tone somber. "But we did what we had to do. That's the job."

As you sat together in the quiet of the room, the weight of Natasha's mission hung in the air. But amidst the shadows of uncertainty, there was also a glimmer of resilience, “So, what’d I miss around here?”

“Oh, nothing really,” you shrugged, “Same old things.”

“Oh yea? How’s your mentorship with Wanda going?” she pried.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of her name, and of course the super spy sitting next to you noticed, “oh that? It’s coming to an end.” you responded vaguely.

“-an end? Why? What happened?” Natasha pushed for more information.

Avoiding eye contact, you explained, “Nothing happened. I don’t need her help anymore,”

Acting impressed, Natasha had a feeling there was more to the story, “Well, you got a handle on your powers pretty quickly then, huh?”

With a satisfied grin, acting as if you outsmarted some all knowing system, “Oh I don’t need to. Tony is fixing them.” you bragged as you removed yourself from the couch beside Nat to enter the kitchen which was still in clear view from where Natasha was seated on the couch, “you want a drink or anything? You must be exhausted.”

Nat stayed put on the couch, letting her brain catch up with what you just said, she was tired but that could wait, “Sorry, can we circle back for a sec? Tony is fixing your powers? How exactly?” she pressed, not letting you move on from the topic as she followed you off the couch and into the kitchen.

Using the refrigerator as an excuse to not meet her eyes, you pretending to weigh your options even though you knew exactly what you were after as soon as you left couch, “well, i dont know the technicalities of it, Nat, but he’s got gadgets for everything. Oh! And I had my follow-up with Bruce. He said that he’ll need to wait for the tests to come back but everything seems in order.”

Natasha hummed in response as she took a sip of the water bottle you slid over to her, “We’ll talk about this more later, movie night tonight? I’ve got to go take a shower.”

You nodded in response, “Oh, so that’s what that smell was!” you called out as she left you behind in the kitchen. She couldnt help but checkle slightly in response, “Oh shut it, Y/L/N!”

You were looking forward to a proper movie night with Natasha, it had been too long for your liking since the two of you got to have time to yourselves and relax together like this. You even made sure to run to the store and grab lots of snacks in preparation.

You werent good at cooking by any stretch, but popcorn, you could handle. You got a bowl ready, and made sure to season it with the butter powder that Natasha loves as you put all the other junk and drinks onto a tray so you could carry it easily into the theatre room. To your surprise, Natasha wasn’t the only one there waiting for you.

“Surprise!” Nat haphazardly yelled once you noticed that Wanda was sitting beside her. Against your own will, your eyes widened as your cheeks flooded a light pink. You didnt want her here, “Why is she here?” you asked, speaking to Nat as if Wanda wasnt sitting right there to hear.

“Natasha invited me,” Wanda stepped in and explained for herself. It was difficult to hide your disgust at the situation, you were looking forward to having a cozy evening alone with Nat.

“Why?” You kept your eyes on Natasha, not paying Wanda any attention, she was intruding on your plans, and you hated the fact that you’d have to sit through an entire movie with her, an entire movie being distracted, trying to push away the thoughts that keep plaguing your mind.

Natasha knew that there was tension between you and Wanda that likely should be addressed, and who better to be a mediator than your best friend herself? After thinking over your approach to dampen your powers instead of learning to wield them properly, she believed that spending time together in a relaxed setting like a movie night could help you work through your differences and potentially mend whatever set you off from training.

Additionally, Natasha valued both you and Wanda as friends and continually tried anything to see you get along better. She hoped that by bringing you together in a more casual and friendly environment, you could find some common ground, “Oh stop complaining Y/N, come sit!” Nat patted the seat next to her. Wanda wasnt phased by your display, in fact, she somewhat expected it.

You reluctantly sat without complaining further, “What movie have you two decided on then?” you shot off, acting as if having Wanda there excluded you in some way.

Nat ignored the attitude in your tone, “We havent decided yet, I was thinking a comedy though,” she answered.

You and Wanda both decided against anything either of you chose, so eventually you landed on a movie that Nat suggested. As the movie played on the screen, you held back your laughter, a subtle attempt to maintain a sense of composure in front of Wanda. Feeling somewhat guarded in Wanda's presence, hesitant to show vulnerability or let your guard down completely.

But as the movie reached a particularly funny scene, you couldn't help but crack a smile, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. Natasha, sitting beside you, let out a hearty laugh, her amusement contagious as it spread to both you and Wanda.

Despite your initial reservations, the three of you were soon found laughing uproariously, the tension of the evening melting away in the shared joy of the moment. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, making a conscious decision to let go of your hesitations and embrace the joy of the movie. Letting your guard down, to laugh freely and openly.

Once the movie came to and end, the next suggested option was “Modern Family” and without a second thought you clicked play. Nat slowly got up from her spot in the middle of you and Wanda, claiming she was exhausted and going to head to bed. You and Wanda stayed seated as the show began to play. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but at some point, Wanda took over Nat’s seat beside you, “So, how did your follow up go with Bruce?”

You sighed, “It went well I guess, they uh- they found in my bloodwork that I have this disease called chronic fatigue syndrome, which explains why I’m always tired and stuff,” you explained.

Wanda tilted her head slightly as she took in the information, “Well, surely you already knew that from the tests SHIELD did on you to pass academy.” She questioned, thinking back to her internal reasoning as to why you knew that you’d be able to survive the chemical at the Hydra plant.

You’re not sure where her thought process was, or what made her come to that conclusion, “What? No, I never got to see the results of any of those tests, it was all confidential.” you explained, “It was just a pass or fail result at the end of the graduate year.”

As if all the walls that Wanda built between you came crashing down, realization flooded in. She had constructed this idea of you in her head, an idea that you always had some sort of ulterior motive and nothing you ever did was out of any sort of kindness or altruism, “Wait, so how did you know that you’d survive the chemical agent that we were sent to retrieve at the Hydra base?”

“I didn’t.” you stated as if it were obvious. Perhaps it was to everyone else. “Oh! Speaking of that, I have some good news!” you transitioned to the new topic, tone laced with mischief, “You won’t need to mentor me anymore,”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, her expression guarded knowing that you surely didnt have a complete grasp on your powers yet, she hummed, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips, “Tony’s making me an inhibitor,” you nearly bragged, “I don’t need to bother with them now, and we can go back to hating each other, no need to keep up with this charade anymore. Just like old times.”

There was a sharpness to your words, a cutting edge that sliced through the tension. You knew that your relationship with Wanda had always been fraught with animosity, a constant battle of wills and egos.

But as you watched Wanda's reaction, a flicker of something crossed her features—was it disappointment? Relief? Sadness? You couldn't quite decipher it, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing Wanda a favor by removing yourself from her life.

Wanda's response was measured, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. "Oh, this thing?” she said as she held out her hand, the inhibitor that Tony built for you appearing out of thin air, surrounded by red tendrils of magic. Your eyes widened, “I was wondering when you were going to tell me. Imagine my surprise when he told me it was my idea.” she glared, expecting an explanation.

You swallowed hard before explaining yourself, “Yea, well- I. I figured that this will make things easier for both of us. Things can go back to the way they used to be.” you stressed, avoiding eye contact with the girl beside you in favor of quite literally anything else in the room.

Your words carried a weight, so much had changed in the last month. Was anything really better off before any of this? “You want to go back to the way things used to be between us?” she clarified.

Of course you didn’t want that, but it’s what you convinced yourself that she wanted, “I- I don’t know,” you muttered as the wheels spun in your head, “No?”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile slightly at the state you were in, she found it cute. So indecisive and unsure, no trace of the snarky confidence you used to hold. Instead, you were shrunken in on yourself, merely a shell in her presence, “Then what made you lie to Tony for this?” she pushed for an explanation, as she gestured to the inhibitor she was still holding.

You were feeling overwhelmed now, not knowing the right thing to say. The last thing you wanted was Wanda upset with you. Your breathing began to pick up ever so slightly, something Wanda took notice of, “I- I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it better this way. Without me.” you admitted.

Spinning in her seat so that her entire body faced you instead of the tv, the device in Wanda’s hand vanished as she moved it to rest on your leg for comfort, “Y/N, Why would you think that?”

Your body tensed at the contact of her hand on your thigh, keeping your eyeline low like you were a child being scolded, “Well, it’s just- I feel like i’ve become this responsibility for you, and you shouldn’t have to. I know you hate me, and that’s ok. I deserve it, but it’s not fair for you.” you tried to find the right words to explain your thought process, you werent even sure if it made sense at this point.

Suddenly you felt Wanda’s fingers pulling your chin to force you to meet her gaze, “Hey. I don’t hate you.” she clarified, “Sure we bicker, and get under each other’s skin, but I thought things were getting better.” she affirmed, and you nodded gently in response, “Good girl,” she whispered almost inaudibly, sending a shiver down your spine noticing the hold she had on you without even using her magic, “Regardless, it’s the least I could do, the only reason you even have these powers in the first place is because you saved me.” she admitted.

You didn’t have a response, staring back at her with doe wide eyes waiting for her to make the next move. She removed her grip from your chin and lifted the barrier from between your seats, “Come here,” she patted as she lifted her arm for you to scootch closer. You did as she said, nuzzling into the space she provided. Your shared focus shifted back to the sitcom on the tv as you relaxed into her embrace, “Wanda.” you muttered softly as exhaustion began weighing heavily on your features, and she hummed in response, “I never hated you either.” you admitted.

“I know.”

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[crimewrought]

ㅤ" i obviously didn't mean it like— " maria starts her rebuttal in earnest, but her defence dwindles quickly. can she really argue to be offering in a strictly friendly capacity, when the lines of friendship and business have been thwarted by her hand? when she's the one who took a brush of something sinister and tarnished the both of them with it? knowing the answer, and knowing that paint won't scrub away easily, greene lets her protests curdle in her throat.

ㅤ" no fucking cleverness from me, then. " a quiet utterance, but not hidden; it's murmured as she quickens her pace to meet his excessive one. maria watches him beneath the street lamps, a sense of unreality settling upon her like an unexpected cold wind. when she'd first seen shinwell after so many years, maria had thought he'd looked out of place—and perhaps he had. but not like this. back then, she supposes, he'd looked out of place only due to the scenery; and due to the way time had found residence on his features and eroded most of the boyhood away. but he'd still looked familiar, because that moment had been a resuming of something. a reuniting. this, the way he looks now, seems to mark the beginning of something, she thinks. the newness, the unfamiliarity, makes the cold that's settled on her shoulders even harder to shake.

ㅤ" do you have any actual words of advice other than don't be clever? " wary of his new face, almost wholly stripped of the youth it probably didn't have before, maria's taken to watching the ground, or the dark sky above, as she walks briskly alongside him. " i'm not trying to be shitty with you. i'm actually asking. because me going into this completely blind is ten times more likely to fuck me than me going in with a little warning. should i be frank? polite? fucking, i don't know, nice? "

her  question  doesn't  get  her  any  response  aside  from  an  audible  exhale  into  the  freezing  night  air.  he's  snuck  out  back  onto  the  street  with  his  shoulders  drawn  up  high,  hands  tucked  deep  into  his  pockets:  the  bad  posture  of  someone  uselessly  trying  to  fend  off  the  creeping  cold,  when ��in  reality  he's  just  a  dog  with  his  tail  tucked  between  his  legs.  his  guilt  smells  of  stale  beer.  he  should've  stayed  inside.  he  should've  sent  her  home  and  never  mentioned  it  again.

                                ❝ i  don't  need  you  to  buy  my  fucking  drinks,  greene. ❞  he  sniffs  against  the  insinuation  of  this  being  a  business  transaction  between  them:  like  her  paying  for  what  amounts  to  his  services  makes  him  turn  up  his  nose.  he  sways,  for  a  moment,  not  because  he's  drunk  but  because  he  seems  to  be  reconsidering  his  options.  it's  not  too  late  to  call  it  off.  but  then  she'll  go  on  her  own,  and  that  he  couldn't  stomach.  ❝ let's  just  get  this  over  with. ❞  he  turns,  spits  onto  the  pavement,  and  starts  walking  down  the  street  without  waiting  if  she'll  follow.  ❝ let  me  do  the  talking  until  he  asks  you  what  you  want.  don't  try  and  be  fucking  clever  about  it.  that  won't  work. ❞  

[frostironfudge]

I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once - Bucky Barnes - Eight

Summary: After receiving an honourable discharge from his military service that was caused by the loss of his arm, James Barnes begins to come to terms with several things. He also finds solace in youtube videos, memes and on social media, where he happens to find you.

Pairing: Ex-Military!Bucky Barnes x Fem! Plus Size!Reader (Modern AU)

Chapter Warnings: angst, fluff, swear words, family drama, drama at stark industries, nat is v protective, bucky is v protective, peter being an absolute fave

Word Count: 4792 Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Seven || Chapter Nine

Bucky’s arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. His nose traces along your shoulder and then his lips place a soft kiss on the skin where your his shirt falls from your shoulder. 

You feel his fingertips brush over your stomach, the muscles slightly contract under the foreign touch which feels searingly familiar. 

He sleepily mumbles something, his breath fanning over your neck makes you giggle. 

Bucky’s smile against your skin reminds you of home, the fluttering in your chest finally finds itself happy.

You have someone to call home.

“I love you.” He whispers, then tugs on your earlobe.

“I love you.” He says again, kissing your cheek.

You turn in his hold, facing him, sleepy azure beckoning you to drown. Sweeter than the call of a siren.

“I love you.” You say, he leans in closer, soft slightly chapped lips brush against yours. Then press closer. Your eyes close, cupping his face. Bucky pulls you closer.

Discomfort trickles up your spine, turning the warmth of Bucky into cold and your eyes open. The lamp in your room does nothing to brighten the dull ache in your heart as there is no Bucky pulling you close to him. 

Tears pool at your eyes, brimming over as you try to blink them away. You squeeze your eyes shut again, hoping your dream can continue. At least in the dreams you never had oceans separating the two of you. 

Wiping the hot tears you blearily look at the small digital clock on your wall the small red numbers gloat it is five AM, you groan. 

The earlier discomfort manifests again but this time between your legs. Throwing off the blanket you groan. If the dream hadn’t caused a longing sadness the evidence of being greeted by your period sent you into a goddamn meltdown. 

Wiping away your fresh tears you grab a change of pyjama pants and head to the bathroom. The cramp takes over when you are just exiting and this day hasn’t even begun and you felt as though everything was absolute shit. 

“That was rude of you.” You grumpily mutter to your stomach, actually glaring at your uterus. 

“Not the cramps, that I expect, but the dream of him.” Pulling the blanket back on yourself you struggle to find a comfortable position. 

Your phone chimes. The notification tab filled with sporadic texts from Bucky. 

Bucky🌻:

Would you rather go ice skating with only one skate, or would you rather go skiing with only one ski? 

Bucky🌻:

If that sounds out of the blue it is, my brain is getting fried here. 

Bucky🌻:

i saw this and thought of you, for lunch i went and got halal guys 

(he’s attached a picture of a small patch of grass with a few flowers growing amongst the concrete pavement of the city) 

(he also sent a video of him eating the food and tempting you)

Your brain malfunctions when he licks the sauce off of his bottom lip.

Bucky🌻:

in all the restrictive bullshit you’ve found room to grow and be yourself. 

Bucky🌻:

Can the twin spawns of satan— are we insulting satan or praising him by assigning said twin spawns as satan’s spawn?

You giggle at that, swiping the message you begin to type out a reply. 

The three dots appear from Bucky’s end, then his message. 

Bucky🌻:

Its 5 am, you better have a reasonable explanation for being up, we have lunch planned from your end not breakfast. 

You roll your eyes at the sternness that wafts off of his message. 

Bucky🌻:

Don’t roll your eyes. 

Also no, I have not hacked your camera. 

You huff, sending your reply. 

Doll🌸:

I was peacefully sleeping, dreaming about this very, very handsome man but then my own body betrayed me. 🩸🦈

Bucky🌻:

Oh no, did the cramps start? Is that electric heated water-bag I sent the link of near to you? Should I order some chocolates?

Also who was this lucky man to grace your dreams?

You laugh, but then groan as a cramp takes over. Bucky had been kind enough to track down a water bag that was basically electrically heated therefore waiting to warm the water and fill up the bag was entirely eliminated. 

Doll🌸: 

i hadn’t thought of the bag, going to retrieve it also jealous much, Mr. Barnes?

Bucky takes a breath, tired from the day, he looks around at the half empty floor of the software team. 

Bucky🌻: 

i’m only a man, doll. Do you know how difficult it is to know others get to sit, stand, eat, drink, laugh and have your warmth next to them? 

Your breath hitches, as you sit up, the hot water bag providing relief. Your eyes brim with tears at his words. Having Quentin here was annoying him to no beyond, your father was purposely uploading the pictures 

Bucky🌻:

i don’t want to cause more heartache but today is one of those days i wish i could come home to you. 

Doll🌸: 

i was dreaming about you.

Doll🌸:

we were cuddled up in bed, you pulled me closer to your chest, placing soft kisses on my shoulder, it felt so real James, I cried when I woke up. 

Doll🌸:

You’re it for me James Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky’s breath hitches at your simple sentence. Lungs and throat aching to scream at the universe for being cruel to keep you both apart. He wishes he could pull you into his arms and kiss you so deeply that you feel him against your lips months later.

Bucky🌻:

You’re it for me too, Y/N Doll Y/LN. 

Doll🌸 sent a voice note. 

Bucky plays it, your voice cracks slightly and he knows you’ve been crying. He can’t help but keep pressing play on the note, emailing himself to keep it safe. 

“You’re it for me, James Bucky Barnes.” Your soft voice croons, “I love you so much, people told me I had a big heart, I think it is so to hold the love I have for you. I love you.” 

He sets the phone down, wiping his own dampened cheeks. When he tries to speak his voice cracks. It always takes him by surprise how raw with emotion he becomes, then his father’s words haunt him. 

Bucky pushes those thoughts away. He wasn’t weak, it was okay to be vulnerable and express emotions. You always appreciated him being able to share all his facets with you. 

He drinks water, trying to clear his throat before he can send you a voice note as well. When he listens back to it, you would know he cried as well. 

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters this is an emotionally charged day.  

Bucky🌻 sent a voice note. 

He waits for your reply, but eyes Tony coming on his way over. He leaves you a quick message about the same so you don’t worry over why he disappeared mid conversation. 

Tony harbours a look of pure calm, which only means there is rage inside. Bucky stands, moving to the conference room for privacy and Tony gives a curt nod of acknowledgment. 

Inside Bucky waits while Tony paces trying to articulate himself without losing his absolute mind. 

“Do you know Hammer Tech, Barnes?” Tony exhales and turns to face him. 

“I used to do their back end work, it was third party so never had a direct connection but their pay sucked and working conditions as well.” Bucky’s lips curl into a grimace at the memory. 

“Hmm, shitty employee treatment aside,” Tony sits on the head chair, “Have you been sharing sensitive information?” 

Bucky’s eyes widen, “Tony, respectfully what the fuck?”

“They have stolen our entire idea, for the bionic arm.” Tony narrows his eyes at Bucky. 

“And you think I gave out the information?” Bucky feels his chest constrict he’d never do anything like this, never. 

“Barnes, I—, fuck.” Tony presses the palms of his hands over his eyes. 

Bucky just stares at the man, baffled. 

“Fuck, okay, look, I apologise, sincerely.” Tony looks at Bucky, whose expression is now stoic. 

“I had a look at their design and workings. Its bang on ours. The interns wouldn’t do it, their vetted by their universities. Which leaves the employees I assigned to the said project.” Tony explains and deflates. 

“I really am sorry Barnes, I just, that fucker always tries to push me to my brink.” Tony sighs yet again. 

“Have you checked my records? Other team member records?” Bucky responds cooly. 

“I did, it’s all clean.” Tony runs a hand down his face. 

“And you still came up to accuse me? Why? Because I left the trial mid way?” Bucky wills himself not to lose his cool, not to turn this into a screaming match. 

“To be honest I did this whole accusation thing with everyone.” Tony admits, sheepishly. 

“Because you have a flair for the dramatic.” Bucky shrugs, lips twitching at the humour. 

“Please, who even am I without the drama?” Tony smirks, leaning back in the chair. 

“That was a very asshole move of you.” Bucky finally sits in the chair. 

“I’m sorry man. This, everything, it’s like I’m going to crumble.” The man who probably has everything sighs. 

“I can understand.” The feeling is all too familiar.

“I really am sorry, Barnes. Your one of my best people, honestly trust you more than a family member.” Tony admits and Bucky feels his throat lace with emotion again. 

“Plus I have Morgan’s approval.” Bucky jokes to ease the tension, Tony cracks a genuine smile and the soldier feels that this is a win. 

“Don’t tell her I accused you.” Tony chuckles. 

“Oh please, I am telling her and then suing you for emotional stress. She’s going to be the judge for the case” Bucky laughs. 

“Jeez one more lawsuit, ease up a lil Barnes. God if she becomes a lawyer she will be ruthless.” Pride shines in the father’s eyes. 

Bucky smiles, he never expected Tony Stark to be the doting father he is, but damn he’s seen big investors meetings rearranged for dance recitals, plays and picnics. 

“Sorry no can do, I need the money.” He jokes. 

“How are things in paradise?” Tony smiles when Bucky’s gaze softens as he thinks about you. 

“Today is sort of well, not one of the good ones, missing each other too much.” He admits, this fingertips tapping on the glass. 

“What about the meeting? Any date set?” Tony knew because even the incognito search history revealed flight dates that Barnes was seeing. 

“Her visa didn’t come through, so I’m thinking of you know, surprising her for Christmas. Well thats cause we have holidays then so…” He shrugs it was still preliminary he needed to sort several things before he could travel. 

Alpine’s ability to travel and if not then either asking his mum to care for her, there was also the question of how long would he be with you, because goddamn the thought of returning without you pierced his heart in the worst way. 

Bucky thought back to Hammer Tech stealing to avoid breaking down again. 

“Wait, how did they steal? Every part of ours is patented.” Bucky recalls, Tony shakes his head, a bitter smile on his face. 

“The asshat changed several cosmetic enhancements, some proprietary paint of his to colour the arm to the user, I can’t find anything on the internal mechanism.” Tony’s hands ball into fists, then he extends his fingers as he realises something. 

Bucky’s brows furrow when the shorter man stands.

“Follow me.” Is all Tony says before rushing out, Bucky quickly follows suit. 

Tony heads towards the elevators with whatever epiphany dawned upon him and honestly Bucky wonders how the man is faster than him. 

Sharon’s voice makes him pause, “Yeah, no, he’s accused everyone. Including idiotic Barnes.” Her office door is ajar by an inch but the frosted glass prevents his recognition. 

“Barnes!” Tony bellows from inside the open elevator. Bucky contemplates, just a snippet wouldn’t give him proof of his doubts. He decides against it and continues forward towards Tony. 

Natasha walks beside you, classes had ended. Your stomach rumbles and Nat gives you a pointed look. 

“What?” You wince at the cramp. 

“I know your lunch date went haywire and eventually cancelled but you can eat you know.” Nat gives a pointed glare you turn away.

“I’ll eat at home, I just want to lay down.” You exhale, day one and two were never in your favour.

“Y/N.” Natasha would probably pull your ear and drag you to the cafeteria if it hadn’t already shut.

A black Mercedes stops in front of you two. Nat raises a brow as the window lowers down.

Your hand tightens around Nat’s and she will commit murder. Quentin Beck gives a charming smile that would have people swooning but you two know better.

“Natasha, as radiant as ever.” He grins, you would vomit on him.

“Beck, I see you’re still roaming as if you own everything in sight.” Natasha sneers. He only laughs, the fake-ness of it reverberates the air. 

“Why are you here?” You question, he was supposed to be galavanting with his other rich friends who were equally obnoxious.

“Well, I was at home, your mom was worried about you and I offered to pick you up.” He explains with a shrug.

“She’s coming along with me.” Nat interjects with a glare.

Quentin looks at you, lowering his sunglasses, “I know you aren’t well, come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way.” He proposes and you want to know what ulterior motives exist.

Nat looks at you worried, “Are you going with him?” The unspoken conversation goes on as you both weigh out pros and cons. 

Your phone rings and Natasha scoffs, looking at Quentin as you answer the phone. 

“What?” He raises his hands in defence and she only continues to glare at him.

“Y/N.” Your dad’s voice greets.

“Yes, Dad?” You have to bite your tongue to keep the respect in your tone.

“Quentin is on his way to pick you up, the driver had to be sent for my work, and your mother says you are unwell.” He states, doesn’t ask how are you feeling? or worries just states facts.

“Yes he is here.” You inform.

“Very well, call me from the car I have to discuss something private with him.”

“You can call him…” You want to mope and throw a fit but with the way you feel like crap you want to just give up. Can Bucky just pop up and pull you into his lap and keep you away from this bullshit?

You pause for five seconds to allow the universe to do her thing, but your dad’s fed up tone lacing with your name irks you instead.

“Yes I’m getting into the car.” You inform and look at Nat, mouthing to her that you would text her.

“Take care and be careful.” She mouths back and you give her a flying kiss which she reciprocates.

Quentin welcomes you with a smile as you sit in the car and then raises a brow to Nat in defiance. Her eyes narrow further, she needs to ask Bucky to expedite his surprise.

Quentin pulls onto the road and you hand your phone to him, he puts it on speaker and your dad and him greet each other as though talking after ages. Instead of hours. 

There is nothing private about the talk as they consider stock market options and your dad quizes him about banking things.

The call ends and you text Bucky and Nat respectively about your whereabouts. To Bucky you most demand for extra cuddles as punishment. You know it’s useless but complaining and whining today just makes you feel slightly better. 

Quentin pulls into one of the restaurants your families frequented and you remember playing hide and seek in the main lobby with him. You also remember the huge round pillar where you had your first kiss with him and also the very pillar where you stood and had your heartbroken.

“Why are we here?” You ask as the valets open your doors. You step out thanking the valet.

“For lunch, and ice cream, you used to love their chocolate chip one.” He shrugs waiting for you and holds out his hand.

You walk up the familiar steps without his help.

The hostess seats you at the table you always wanted to sit upon, it rested on a step higher than the remaining seats and had a canopy decorated with flowers.

“I remember you wanted to always sit here.” He comments taking a sip of water.

“I did.” Your replies are clipped and Quentin sighs.

“Look, I know I fucked up,”

“Happy realisation, would you like a certificate? I can make one on Canva.” You seethe. 

“Little Princess.” His expression doesn’t change at your glare.

“I want to make amends.” He admits, sincerely gazing at you.

“Too late.” You settle back into the chair as the waiter places your orders in front of you both.

“Thank you.” You both say in unison before a silence takes over as you begin eating.

“Look, I just want my friend back, I want to right my wrongs.” He says, you raise a brow at him mid bite.

“I know how it sounds but please, I want you as a part of my life.” Quentin places his hand upon yours, interlacing your fingers. You look at him and he has tears in his eyes.

“Are you doing this for some ulterior motive or are you genuinely wanting to repair things?” You pull your hand away, waiting in response.

“Genuinely. I miss you. Not even in the sense of our relationship but as my friend, you were my best friend.” Quentin smiles in remembrance of the friendship the two of you had, children of fathers who were too busy working and trying to climb success’ ladder.

“Quentin, I don’t think we can be how we were…” You trail of, sipping water as your eyes burn with tears. So much was lost and changed.

“I know, I… I pretty much turned into who I told you I would never be.” He admits and somewhere in your heart you feel empathy for him.

“Quentin,”

“Look, all I want is forgiveness and maybe a fresh start friendship. Only if you want.” He puts the ball in your court.

“I don’t know how to trust you.” You fiddle with the hem of the table cloth, eyes averted.

“I want to earn it back.” He says making you look towards him.

Quentin rises from his chair, circling around to cup your cheek as he had the day he came into your room. Your eyes meet his blue ones. 

“Don’t you miss me, little princess?” Quentin questions, eyes holding something you can’t decipher. 

“I used too, but you never wanted me did you?” You say, he leaves your skin. Defeat pulling at his shoulders. 

“I was young and foolish.” He admits, “I haven’t forgiven myself for making you cry, for hurting you. Even if you forgive me I won’t.” He sits back in his chair. 

“Quentin, she was everything I’m not, it was as if you used everything I told you hurt me. It was not easy for me, but maybe I could be more civil towards you?” You offer, you were in a better place, you have Bucky a man better than any man you ever came with in contact. 

“I’d like that.” He smiles, you smile back. 

The bowls of ice cream are brought onto the table. He hands you a spoon. 

“To becoming civil.” He raises a spoonful of ice cream, you do the same. 

“To becoming civil.” You repeat. 

“So tell me about your boyfriend.” Quentin asks, turning civil had been a point which had the two of you speaking a little more freely. He told you all about his escapades across America during college, he took a year off to join up his dad since he had a heart ailment. 

“What about James?” You raise a brow. 

“What does he do? Does he treat your right?” Quentin shrugs.

“He’s a software developer/coder at Stark Industries in New York City, ex military, Sergeant rank, special skills trained. He treats me the way I deserve to be treated.” You speak with a proud smile. 

Quentin shakes his head but smiles at you, then focuses back on the road. 

“What?” You ask. 

“No just, I can see he makes you happy. Its nice to see someone not fucking up as I had.” He looks at you at the stoplight. 

“Do you love him?” 

“I do.” You verbalise easily, loving Bucky is as easy as breathing. You look at your phone, no messages yet, you reread the last message from him. 

Bucky🌻:

Hey Doll, there is some trouble here, the second I get a free moment, I’ll call or update you, but for a few days I think it will be haywire. 

I love you, I’ll text you as soon as I can, be careful around that asshat, i don’t trust his intentions. 

I love you. 

“I’m glad you found him.” Quentin admits and pulls the car into your apartment building. 

He doesn’t follow when you get out of the car, sending your driver away when he arrives to take the car off of his hands. 

“I have some work,” He explains coming to stand near you, “Thank you for today, I feel better than I did.” 

He opens his arms and you look up at him, 

“One hug?” He requests and you open your arms. Quentin closes the space between you two, pulling you into a hug familiar from childhood days. 

His hands move over your curves, you stiffen. 

“Quentin—,” You try to pull away. 

“Just as I remember. I’m sorry.” He breathes, voice hoarse. Hands move away to wrap around you. 

“Quentin, this is not comfort—,”

He pulls away, but places a kiss to your cheek. 

“Sorry, I just, I found our toddler time picture this morning and it was of me kissing your cheek.” He pulls it up on his phone, your gaze softens as you see your childhood self. Happy. 

“Well I’ll be on my way, thanks for today again, little princess.” He says and waves jogging back to the driver’s side. 

You swallow and turn back to the lobby door, entering. When you set your bag down, you look into the mirror. Your mind brings forth the picture of your younger happier self. 

You gaze into your eyes then over your body, every dip, crevice, curve that would have you aching to look away. Today was a day you could look at yourself without thoughts crossing your mind. 

You smile and your reflection mimics you, and you can see the happiness in your eyes too. 

Bucky feels bile rise up in his throat. 

He would have not opened the very spam looking email, but it was in his inbox with attachments. 

The subject is what drew him in, two words; your name.

He hated that curiosity got the better of him. He hated how the email was getting the better of him. 

Then Natasha’s text burns behind his closed eyelids. 

Natasha:

Beck is upto something. I know Y/N said you’re busy but something is amiss, keep your eyes open and head centred.

“Barnes.” Tony draws his eyes away from the laptop screen. 

The mogul raises an eyebrow, Bucky nods. 

“Just give me one minute.” Bucky says, Tony nods, closing the office door on his way out. 

Bucky clenches his teeth. A whirlwind of thoughts swirl his mind. 

He nods to himself, tapping away on the search bar. Emailing Natasha his flight details he keeps the visa tab open for perusal post his meeting with Tony. 

Bucky grabs his iPad, and walks towards the elevators to go up to Tony’s lawyer team floor. It had been two days since your outing with Beck and he was honestly expecting something from the asshole. Definitely not non consented to pictures as if taken by paparazzi and sent to him to let him stew in jealousy. 

If Quentin was out for ruining things, Bucky would fight tooth and nail. 

He’d get to deck Quentin Beck in his face, right on his mouth the very mouth that had ordered someone to take photos to manipulate things between the two of you. 

Also the mouth that placed a kiss on your cheek but that will be a separate punch. 

The elevator opens to the law floor filled rapid tapping and pages being turned. Bucky walks towards the conference room as he spots the sign for it. 

“Barnes, you were right.” Tony says as he enters. 

“I usually tend to be.” He chuckles at Tony’s eye roll. 

“His patent covers even the internal mechanism so we will know who is the leak. Since I constructed each internal system of each prosthetic differently.” Tony grins clapping his hands excited. 

Bucky has a guess on the tip of his tongue. Peter shuffles beside him and Bucky raises a brow. 

Peter shifts a small paper towards Bucky, in his neat handwriting,

‘We should tell him about Rumlow’s mounting plate.’ 

Bucky nods, his guess was the very man. 

“Listen Tony….”

“Mr. Stark…” 

“You both look as if you both are stressed out and are about to see the devil in hell.” Tony’s laugh dies as he looks between the two.

Peter begins rambling and Bucky adds the forgotten points in the middle. The room grows quiet. Too quiet and Tony’s jaw ticks. 

“Peter go out.” Bucky says calmly.

“But Mr. Barnes—,”

“Listen to him, Underoos.” Tony implores and Peter scrambles out while apologising profusely. 

“Now, Barnes. What the fuck?” Tony bellows and his entire team flinches. Bucky remains unaffected. Pressing his lips into a thin line he takes an inhale then exhales. 

He pulls up the email from Brock and shows it to the team and Tony. 

“The entire wiring was different… we fixed it to the original but, I think Rumlow is the leak.” Bucky speaks calmly trying to stay composed as Tony’s breathing grows erratic. 

“Did you take pictures? Because we need proof.” Tony questions, Bucky nods and Peter pops his hand in holding up his own iPad with the picture folder open.

“Parker.” Tony groans, “Just come back in and stop spying.” 

Peter scrambles in again and sits down next to Bucky. Who pats the young intern on his back. 

“I didn't want to disappoint you.” Peter mumbles and Tony shakes his head. 

“Kid, you never could. Just don’t hold information from me alright?” Tony reaches over ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately, Peter groans muttering how it took him a while to style it. 

Which only prompts Bucky to also do the same much to Peter’s chagrin. 

“So now what? Bucky questions the lawyers who were silent. 

“We build a case.” One of them answers, wearing a pair of tinted glasses, Bucky recognises the man.

“You’re Matt Murdock right?” Peter confirms and Matt gives him a smile of affirmation.

“Its good to finally meet you Mr. Barnes.” Matt comments.

“Likewise, I’ve heard your name in the news a lot. You’ve done a great deal of work.” Bucky praises.

“You’re too kind. Thank you for your service.” Matt offers an unwavering smile.

Bucky’s throat constricts, “It was my duty.” He waits for the images of active duty blooming to take over, when they don’t Bucky exhales, feeling himself relax.

“I also have reason to believe Brock Rumlow isn’t alone.” Matt states.

“Another traitor? Fire HR.” Tony grumbles and Matt shakes his head.

“We need to smoke them out Tony.” Bucky says, “I think we should do it via Brock.” 

“I may have an idea.” Peter pipes up, Tony gives him a pointed stare.

“It isn’t a movie reference…” Peter’s cheeks tinge red in embarrassment. 

“Go on kiddo, tell us the plan.” Bucky grins, as Peter opens up a PowerPoint Presentation on his iPad.

“You were planning this?” Tony questions, absolutely gobsmacked at the details on the first slide itself.

“Mr. Murdock, I have the file on a thumb-drive incase you prefer your screenreader?” Peter looks towards the lawyer.

“No worries kid, I’d rather hear you speak than the robot.” Matt laughs and Peter chuckles.

Bucky looks at how much his name is popping up in the plan, the dates of the tickets he booked weigh heavy on his chest. He hopes this is resolved before he has to fly out to you.

A.N: hope everyone reading, enjoyed this chapter! let me know! thank you for reading! 💖 (i also apologise for the opening scene, i've been listening to my angst playlist)

taglist is open! please comment or message to be tagged!

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[rosaliestark01]

Like Father, Like Daughter

Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader & Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Requested by @ritiizzxxx : Hey I have a request can u do it where reader is Tony Stark's daughter and he has kept her a secret n when she was 15 and graduated from MIT and started creating her own tech then Tony decided to let the world know about her daughter. and also can u add some scenes where she's being sassy and sarcastic my father with all the Avengers.

Warnings: Swearing (maybe more than usual), fluff (kinda), and a bit of violence.

A/N: I’m not 100% sure if this was what you wanted, but I really hope you like it. As usual, I don’t own any GIFs and credit for the GIFs go to owner.

“Tony Stark, is it true that you have a daughter?”

“Is it Y/N?”

“Is Y/N Vulpine?”

Tony should have known that sending you to college at a young age would have major repercussions. You were already an intern at Stark Industries and after graduating at the top of your class at MIT at only fifteen year years old, he should have know that people would start to suspect something.

You majored in Physics and Engineering, just like him, but you also had a Masters degree in Business and Finance. Obviously, people would make the connections between you and him, but he never expected people to make the connection between you being Vulpine.

“What are you working on?” You looked up from your work station to see your dad walking up to you. 

“Just something that analyzes an opponents fighting style and predicts their next moves and what their weaknesses are,” you say. You knew that you dad had created something similar, but not to exactly like this. 

This automatically analyzes the way an opponent fights and tells you the best way to beat them in any area of combat. It would alert you if their form was ever off and would tell you the best way to use their weaknesses to your advantage.

Yep, you were definitely his daughter.

“I’m planning on installing it into mine and Peter’s suits so that we don’t repeat what happened in Symkaria.”

“What happened in Symkaria?” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you let slip. Your dad wasn’t supposed to know about Symkaria. You and Peter had agreed not to tell anyone about it because they’d probably never send you on a mission to a foreign country again.

“It was a disaster and you don’t want to know.” Your dad seemed to accept that before clearing his throat.

“So, listen. I am so proud of everything you’ve achieved,” he says. “You’re tough, smart, amazing, and-”

“What did you do?” You eyed him suspiciously. He tended to go overboard on compliments whenever he wanted something or did something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“What? Nothing. I was just going to ask how you felt about the public finding out who you really are.”

You thought about it for a second. You were ready to let the world know that you were Y/N Stark, but at the same time, it could cause major problems. Just like how Peter’s made up name is Spider-Man, your is Vulpine. Vulpine was meant to be mysterious, mischievous, and somebody nobody knew anything about. 

It made thing a lot easier when nobody knew who Vulpine was. You didn’t have to worry about people coming after you or your friends. Not that you couldn’t handle it, but the last time somebody found out who you were was a disaster.

“I’m not really sure how I feel about it,” You say thoughtfully.  “I’m nervous that if they find out I’m your daughter that they might find out about me being Vulpine.”

“I know.” You knew that he understood where you were coming from. He had stopped trusting telling people that you were his daughter after someone had tried to use you against him. “I’m nervous about that too.”

“Y/N, the download is complete,” you AI says in a gravelly voice. 

“What was that?” Your dad asks. “Did you make your own AI?” 

“Yes, I did and his name is Cas,” you giggle, knowing that that your dad would know what you were talking about. Modeled the voice exactly like it sounded on TV.

“Like that guy on TV?”

“Yep.” You become serious again, because you needed to turn the topic back to the serious conversation you were having with your dad. “Anyway, before to tell the world that I’m your daughter, we need to figure out how to keep my Avenger identity a secret. People can’t know that Vulpine and I are the same person.”

Your dad had ended up setting up a meeting will all of the available Avengers. That included Clint, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Peter. 

“We could say that Vulpine went on a vacation?” Clint suggests. He earns a few looks from people around the table for suggesting something so out of character for Vulpine to do.

“Why would Vulpine go on a vacation?” Peter speaks up. Out of everyone in the room, Peter knew the most about you and Vulpine. You were partners after all. Besides, Vulpine definitely didn’t seem like the vacation type. 

“I don’t know?”Clint said as he looked at you nervously. “Even mischievous superheros need breaks.”

“Right, because that wouldn’t be suspicious at all,” you say. Around the table you see Nat, Steve, Sam, and Bucky nodding their heads in agreement with you. Under the table, Peter gently squeezes your hand.

“I thought it was a good idea,” Clint pouts.

“What about a look alike?” Peter asks. “While Mr.Stark introduces you as his daughter, we could have a look alike do something on the other side of the city.”

“That could work if we find someone who looks like me”, you say, nodding your head thoughtfully. “Wait a second!”

“What?”

“Peter, remember when we went to that Fleetwood Mac concert in California?” You ask. Peter smiles as he remembers the time the two of you spent in California. It was good timing because there weren’t any looming threats, Peter’s school was on break, and crime in New York had been pretty nonexistent while you were gone.

Excuse me, but when was this?” your dad asked. You really need to be better at keeping these things from your dad.

“Yeah, and we made clones of ourselves so that nobody would notice we were gone for a whole week!” Peter, ignoring your dad, says excitedly. You couldn’t blame him. You and Peter had a really great week.

“You made clones of yourselves?” Steve finally pipes up.

“They’re more like interactive holograms that we downloaded our daily routine and personalities into.”

“Definitely her father’s daughter.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smile. 

“Normally, I would ground both of you for running off for a week” Your dad starts.  “but I’m impressed so I’ll let it slide.”

“Peter and I will probably have to go digging through my lab to find them first, but I’m sure we could get them ready.” You look at Peter, making sure he was okay with that.

“Great. You two do that. I’ll go schedule a press meeting.” The meeting pretty much broke up the second your dad left the room. You and Peter walked hand in hand to your lab that was right across from your room. You usually kept it pretty neat and tidy... except for the storage room. 

It took about twenty minutes longer than you expected and Peter had to do most of the heavy lifting, not that you minded.

“I just realized how useful these could be,” you say as you and Peter begin to set up the ones modeled after yourselves. “Just think of all the prank we could pull everyone.”

“They could also be useful on missions. Like decoys,” Peter tells you. You may have graduated college when you were fifteen, but sometimes you wondered who the actual genius in this relationship was.

“Pete, your a genius!”

“Says the girl who graduated from MIT when she was fifteen,” Peter blushes. 

“Says the boy who is way smarter than he let’s on,” you say back to him. Sometimes it was like he didn’t know how smart he really was. You knew for a fact that he is probably smarter than all of his teachers combined.

“Enough flirting! Just find your freaking clones!” Sam yells as he walks past your room. 

“After what happened in Symkaria, I can flirt with whoever I want!” You yell back. Yeah, Symkaria ended up being a disaster, but at least it was the push you and Peter needed to confess your feelings for one another.

“But just me, right?” Peter asks.

“Just you.” You plant a soft kiss on his cheek before the two of you get back to work. 

The next morning, you and Peter sent your “clones” to Brooklyn while you and Peter went to the press conference that your dad had set up. You couldn’t believe how crazy these reporters were asking. It was a lot of one talking right over the other so you couldn’t understand a single thing any of them were saying. Finally, your dad had somehow managed to shut them all up

“You all ask if Y/N is my daughter, and it’s easy to see why.” Your dad gets started on the speech that Pepper had made for him, but then he puts the cards down, planning to talk for himself. “She is gifted, talented, probably smarter than me, and an overall amazing person. She has created tech that I have never even thought of and she’s been an intern at Stark Industries since she was only eight years only. Y/N Stark is my daughter.”

“Is Y/N Vulpine?” a blonde reporter asks. That causes the other reporters to stark buzzing out questions too before your dad quiets them again.

“Y/N is not-” Before he could finish, you spot an all too familiar looking face. Freaking Symkaria.

“Fucking shit!” You say, letting your frustration out before the Symkarian guard pulls out a sword and approached you and your dad with it. Peter tries to stand protectively in front of you (you’re pretty sure he just wants to get back at the guard for what he did) but you push Peter away. He doesn’t have his web shooters or his suit.

Luckily, you were trained by both Nat and Bucky. Each time the guard swung the sword at you, you were able to dodge it with ease. Working around the guard as he kept swinging at you, you sneakily removed his belt. After you had it, you wrapped it around his hand that he held the sword with, effectively causing him to drop his weapon. 

“You will never get away with what you did.” The guard hisses out at you with his German-like accent. “Prince Adonis will have his revenge.”

“Seriously?”You dad asks looking amused. “Whatever happened to ‘the world must never know’”

“That was before I was attacked,” you shrugged. There was no way in hell that people would believe that you and Vulpine were two separate people now. You literally just disarmed a Symkarian guard on live TV. “Would you like to do the honors?” you ask you dad, giving him permission to tell the world.

“The truth is...” he begins but you decided, for dramatic effect, to interrupt him.

“I am Vulpine.”

A/N: Again, I’m still not sure if this was what you wanted, @ritiizzxxx​ , but I hope you still like it.

[princess-of-riviaa]

Little Lady: Chapter 3

Prologue/Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Clark Kent x OFC (Vix/Melanie)

Series Summary:

Chapter Summary: Melanie wakes up, hurt and confused, and receives answers that are hard to swallow.

Author’s Note: My sincerest gratitude to @yespolkadotkitty for being my beta on this series! Love you!

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 1,734

I’m surrounded by an endless, unforgiving cold. I don’t know if I’m dead or somewhere between life and death. All I know is I don’t like this darkness, this emptiness, this coldness. A distant whisper of a voice draws me out of the darkness, coaxing me towards the light. It hurts. Everything hurts. I stop for a second. The darkness pulls me back in, pushing out the pain as well as the light. The voice calls to me again. I turn towards it--only to feel that same flash of pain. I hear my name. My real name. This voice knows me somehow, and I need to know who it belongs to. So I swim through the darkness, ignore the pain as best I can, and move towards the light--towards that voice.

***

The first thing I see when I blink my eyes open are brown eyes staring down at me. They’re eclipsed by a beautiful sea of warm olive-toned skin. It’s a woman. It’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I know her--that fact is planted deep inside of me--but I can’t remember her name. I reach out to her--

Only to find that I can’t move. My entire body is stuck, frozen, immobilized. I begin to panic.

“It’s okay,” she assures me, her foreign accent thick and soft as butter. “Just breathe, Natalie. You’re okay.”

Her words manage to calm me to the point of breathing steadily again. But I still have so many questions: Who is she? How do I know her? Where am I? Why can’t I move?

“You’re in a state of temporary paralysis,” she explains. “It should wear off in an hour.”

My eyes widen. “Temporary… paralysis?!”

She opens her mouth to say something, then pauses. Finally she asks, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

I blink, fishing for my most recent memory. Heat. That’s what I remember. My most recent client--what was his name? Collin? No--Clark. Clark Kent--lit a fire in me, just under the surface of my skin, and I lost the ability to breathe as he kissed me. I’ve never felt like that just from kissing a guy before. It’s never been that intense.

“Clark?” the woman guesses, seeing the blush on my cheeks.

Oh god--had I talked about him while I’d been out? How else would she know who was making me blush like this?

I nod.

“Do you remember what he did to you?” she asks hesitantly.

The memory hits me like a train--grinding against his raging hard-on, desperate to chase my own high, and his mouth latching onto a sensitive spot on my neck. His teeth latching onto a sensitive spot on my neck. I try to raise a hand to my neck, where I know there will be a deep scar, but again--I can’t move.

“Yes.” I swallow, the memory making fear rise in my chest until I want to vomit.

“She’s afraid of you,” the woman says, and after I frown in confusion I realize she said it to someone behind me.

I struggle to see them out of my peripheral vision, but barely make out the familiar shape of a huge man in a nice suit. Clark. He’s here. Is he going to hurt me again?

The woman must notice the fear in my eyes because she grabs my hands and gives them a reassuring squeeze. I can feel her touch but I can’t respond to it. “It’s okay, I won’t let anything happen to you,” she assures me.

I give her a grateful smile before looking back at Clark. He’s as stunning as ever, though he looks a lot more relaxed now than he did in Lilith’s.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he tells me.

I frown at him. “You bit me, you freak! Of course I’m afraid of you!”

“I can explain,” he says, holding out his hands like he’s trying to tame a wild animal. Funny, considering this wild animal is currently paralyzed.

“I can’t wait to hear this.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m a vampire,” he begins.

I glare at him. “If you think you’re being funny--”

“I don’t.” His tone is too calm for someone who’s pulling a prank. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“Vampires don’t exist,” I argue. “I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s what you said the last time,” the woman says.

“One thing at a time, Diana,” Clark barks at her before returning his attention to me. “Vampires are real. Every magical creature you’ve ever read about is real. I could prove it to you, but it would be a lot less of a hassle if you just took my word for it.”

“Say vampires are real,” I say. “Say you’re one of them. Where’s the pale skin? The red eyes? The weird accent?”

Clark raises an eyebrow and smirks, amused. “You’re thinking of Dracula. He was one of the first; our kind has evolved since then. We’ve adapted and grown smarter. We now have the ability to walk in the daylight, hence the lack of pale skin. And our eyes are only red right after we’ve eaten. The color returns to normal after a few hours. Dracula had an accent because he was European; I’m from Kansas.”

“Okay fine,” I huff. “Say I’m crazy enough to believe you. Why did you come after me? What did I do to you?”

Clark exchanges a look with Diana.

“I’ll just be in the other room for a minute,” Diana says casually as she stands from the couch I’m lying on. “Shout if you need me to break his neck.”

Clark waits until she’s gone from the room to answer my questions. “What I’m about to tell is going to be hard to swallow.”

“Harder than you being a vampire?” I laugh.

He nods.

My laughter dies quickly.

“We’ve met before,” he begins. “We’ve known each other for five years.”

That’s impossible. I didn’t know this man before last night.

“But that was back in 1946,” he adds.

I’m too dumbfounded to laugh at that ridiculous statement.

“You’re a time traveler, Nat. We met in 1901. We dated for a few months before we had a big fight. You disappeared in time before I could make it right. I thought you were gone forever--but then, two decades later, I found you on the streets of New Orleans, dancing in a speakeasy. No matter how well you managed to change with the times, your dancing was always the one constant. I somehow convinced you to forgive me. We married in ‘28. But then you disappeared again on a mission to kill Hitler; it didn’t go as planned. I managed to find you again in 1945, just after the war ended. And then, at the end of that year, we found out that we’re… god, even after all this time it’s still hard for me to say it. I honestly can’t believe it still.”

“We found out that we’re what?” I press.

“That we’re soulmates,” he finally says.

I resist the urge to laugh at him. “You say that like it’s a real thing.”

His eyes flash, angry that something so important to him is being challenged. “It is. In our world--in our crazy, magical world--soulmates are an actual thing. It’s not like with humans, how they say someone they care a lot about is they’re soulmate. Magical creatures experience a bond with each other that no human ever will. It’s undeniable--once it clicks into place, there’s no going back from it. The universe chooses your soulmate for you and not even the strongest man can resist that kind of magic.”

I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around a single thing he’s said in the last two minutes. “You realize that, even if all of this is true, I’d be insane and incredibly naive to believe it right away.”

He nods solemnly, as if this is a fact that he hates but can’t ignore. “I know. But I want to give you the truth. You deserve at least that much.”

I frown, suddenly remembering something. “I’m still confused as to why you bit me.”

“It’s part of the soulmate ceremony,” he explains.

I stare at him blankly.

“In order for the bond to be complete, both people have to drink a drop of the other’s blood. I tried drinking your blood in ‘46, but I went too far. I couldn’t… I’d been denying myself the taste of your blood for so long that when I finally felt it on my tongue, I lost control. You almost died--I-I almost killed you. But you managed to escape to a different time--time travelling has some sort of weird healing effect on the traveler--and you regained your strength.”

“And last night was the first time you saw me again,” I guess, “and so you tried to complete the bond again.”

Clark nods, his eyes shining as I finally begin to understand.

“Is it? Completed, I mean.” I realize with a start that I’m starting to sound like I actually believe all the bullshit he’s feeding me. But I’m curious enough to play along. It’s curiosity, I assure myself, not belief.

“We won’t know until the effects of my bite wear off,” he says.

Diana said an hour. That was… what, fifteen minutes ago? Time will tell whether Clark is telling the truth or if he should be put in a mental institution.

“How did you know to go to Lilith’s?” I wonder.

He smiles to himself, as if appreciating a joke. “I saw a poster for you--for Vixen, I mean. I knew that name was yours. I had no doubt about it. That’s what I used to call you when we… when we were intimate.”

Well, he definitely talks like someone from the first half of the twentieth century.

“You know this all sounds insane, right?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Maybe to you. I’ve had several centuries to wrap my mind around it.”

“What happens when I can move again and I realize you’re feeding me a bunch of bullshit to excuse your blood kink?” I ask.

He moves to the couch and takes a seat on the other end, careful not to touch me like he can sense how uncomfortable I am. “When you can move again, and you realize I’m not feeding you bullshit, we can talk.”

And until then, we wait.

***

Tag Squad:

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[depressed-sock]

A heartbeat away part 1

M!detective/ Mason

The Wayhaven Chronicles

Finally got the motivation to write a bit. This might end up being a small series, it depends on if I can keep my motivation to write lol

Tw: blood, violence, nightmare

...

It starts as a dream. A soft nothing that won’t be important or fantastic enough to remember when he finally wakes. Not until the dream begins to change at least. A feeling of something other crawling its way in and through. Rotting away any sense of safety until he's left staring at the woods that surround him.

The area dimly lit by a full moon that casts more shadows against the trees than there should be in reality. All of them sitting in waiting. Even as a heavy fog drifts low, clinging to whatever it can touch. His body shivers against it, ice clinging to his eyelashes. His attempts to blink it away, but fails miserably as they instead try to glue his eyelids shut.

He’s very much aware of the fact that he's still asleep. But it does not stop the sudden rise of panic in his chest as glowing eyes begin to dot the woods around him. His breathing grows ragged, coming out as hot puffs of steaming air. The area falls into a quiet pause before a crack of thunder forces the shadows move as one. He runs. Following the invisible path laid out before him.

The shadows chase him, unseen claws slashing into his bare back. Leaving him too distracted to step carefully, bare feet catching on a root he hadn’t seen in his rush. He falls to the ground, hands digging painfully into the broken brush beneath him and he can feel a wave of foreign anger bubbling in his gut.

Until the moment finally comes. Something spearing through his chest, pinning him in a kneeled position against the forest floor. The metallic glint catches his eye and leaves him with only the ability to watch as his blood drips down the metal that protrudes from his chest. His blood steaming against the cold air until it too eventually freezes over. He can still feel the pain searing through him as his eye’s finally snap open.

It takes a moment to ground himself, breaths coming out in short gasps as he tries to focus on the room around him. The plain white wall to his right catching his eye as dark shadows suddenly scatter from it and into darker corners of the room. Leaving him alone to stare at where they had gathered.

Eyes, shadows, claws, pain, cold. His mind runs through the main details but doesn’t bother to hold in the rest of the dream. Mostly because he already knows this one by heart. It’s a familiar nightmare, one of many he’s had and one of many he will have. Just an echo of a life long gone before his own ever started.

Just an echo... Unlike the thing he can still sense taking up residence in his room.

His first thought is to ignore it. To try and go back to what little bit of sleep awaits him. It's all just another part of his usual nighttime routine. But something at the back of his mind is screaming at him that the presence feels off. That it’s not one of his usual guests.

So he forces himself to wake further, eyelids still heavy and wanting for sleep. His hazy gaze staring at the wall for some kind of answer that he knows is there. Before finally realizing exactly what’s wrong. It doesn't match the memory of the one in his home.

Right… Of course, it doesn’t. He didn’t want to drive back so late at night so he stayed at the warehouse with the rest of the team. Sleeping in a room made for him but not 'made' for him.

Hell. He knew he should have done a check but the last time he stayed nothing seemed off, so he’d just assumed there were no extra guests. Or that if there truly were any, the agency would have dealt with it.

This is what he gets for letting his guard down.

With a sigh, he finally gives in to the feeling creeping up his spine. Turning to lie on his back, glaring up at the ceiling. At the shadow who watches back.

He'd like to say he was going to just ignore it and pretend he doesn’t see it. Try and get some kind of sleep before he truly has to get up for the day. It’d be stupid for him to just leave it though. Eventually, it’d realize he could sense it and then he’d have to try and dodge it whenever the team was around. Which would lead to more questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

"So I'm guessing this is where you either talk my ear off or try to make my life hell." He flinches as his voice cracks through the air like a whip rather than the whisper it was intended to be.

It tilts its head to the side in response, eyes temporarily blinking in and out of existence. A hand stretches forward from it, hovering inches above his face until he can just barely make out gnarled skin that clings tight to bony fingers.

"I can't help you." His voice holds steady even as it reaches further down, hand brushing against the faint scars on his neck. Skin freezing beneath its touch. He’s sure it can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe this is something he should have been prepared for or at least something he should be used to by now.

But his life has never gotten easier knowing what the touch of death feels like.

The knock comes suddenly. A soft rap against the door that has the shadow snapping its hand back, retreating in a panic as he scrambles out of his covers. His hand blindly fumbling on his bedside table for his glasses. Whipping them immediately to his eyes once he finds them. Trying his best to catch a clearer glimpse of the spirit only to find it gone by the time his glasses sit crooked on his nose.

"Nolan, are you okay?" Nat's concerned voice comes through the door.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes before fixing his glasses firmly into place. "I'm fine." He mumbles before throwing his blankets fully off and getting up to cross the room. He opens the door, leaning heavily against it, and gives her a tired shrug, "Just a bad dream."

She looks at him with a frown, her eyebrows pinched in concern as she takes in the deep bags under his eyes. "Are you sure you're ok? It looks like you haven't been sleeping at all."

"I'm fine Nat,” his voice softens, “Just have had a bunch of late shifts at the police station recently.”

“Of course.” she nods her head in understanding, hands fidgeting restlessly like she wants to say more. She seems to weigh her words before finally deciding to softly ask, “Was it about Murphy?”

“No. Not this time at least,” he shrugs again looking away from her and down the hall. Like he’s afraid someone else might be listening. A sense of paranoia he’s never fully gotten rid of from his relationship with Bobby.

He shakes his head before focusing back on her, “But honestly nightmares are just a…” He pauses as he tries to find the words, “Well they’re just a usual occurrence for me. Even before the whole Murphy fiasco. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She hesitates a moment. Studying him before giving in with a sigh, "Well if you need help with anything you know we'll do our best to help, right?"

"Yes, I’m aware." He smiles softly, "But what I really need right now is coffee."

"You're not going to try and go back to sleep?"

"Couldn't even if I wanted to." He sighs, as he closes the door behind him and begins to walk towards the kitchen. Nat keeping pace with him even though he feels like he’s moving in slow motion.

He’s not going to be able to sleep here again without doing a thorough check-in with the unaccounted for guest that’s roaming around. Should have done a check of the room. Hell, he should have checked the whole warehouse. He knows better. But he’s gotten too complacent by expecting everything to be like his apartment. The safety of it rotting away his built up defenses.

At least, this was a wake-up call with a safety net. If he needs too, really needs to, he can tell the team what the issue is. Of course, that’s a last resort only. Especially considering how past experiences have gone when he’s tried to tell someone he cares about. In his head he knows it’d be different with them, they’re vampires after all. Can’t get much more into the supernatural than being a supernatural.

The main issue would end up being them informing Rebecca about it.

The cold air of the hallway sends a chill down his spine and he finds himself stuffing his hands into his sweatpants pockets, hunching forward slightly as he tries to ignore the growing anxiety building beneath his skin. Rebecca finding out is absolutely the last thing he needs in his life.

Nat watches him, her pace steady as she walks beside him. Looking more and more like she wants to say something else but instead, she forces herself to focus on the hallway ahead of them. He knows she can probably tell that there's something more off with him than he's letting on.

Mercifully she doesn't bring it up.

And it’s not long before they’re sitting across the table from one another, a warm cup of coffee in his hand while she sips on her tea. The whole place feeling unnaturally quiet with the others all asleep.

“Seems like everyone decided to try and get some sleep tonight. So what are you doing up?” he asks to fill the silence.

“I was going to do some reading in the library,” she hums, “I have a couple of series I’m catching up on.”

“You have something you’re not caught up on? With all the time you’ve had?” He smirks as she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know if you noticed but we’ve been a little busy recently,” she laughs, her fingers tapping gently against her cup.

“Maybe I’ll head that way with you then. I still need to take an actual crack at the library considering all we did last time was research.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Right, research.”

“Hey!” he barks out a laugh, “I definitely did research before I got…” he tilts his head to the side with a smirk, “distracted.” Not as distracted as he would have preferred but something he and Mason definitely made up for later.

She groans in complaint, setting her cup down to allow her to massage her temples, “I swear you’re just as bad as him.”

“Thank you.” His smirk turns into a wide grin.

“That was definitely not a compliment.”

“Oh I know.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he takes another sip of coffee.

Nat responding back with a roll of her eyes and immediately hiding her own smile behind her cup. Their soft chatter soon feeling the space and drawing the other in one by one.

Having someone to hang around after a nightmare... It’s nicer than he remembers and something he didn’t realize exactly how much he’s missed.

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING: DAY 12

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY!  Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: mentions of Steeef and Nat, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Y/N will never forget her first kiss and her first crush. Specially not now. 

THIS IS Y/N’S POV OF THE PROMPT FOR DAY 9 FIRST KISS

Day 12: Childhood Memories , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

 Y/N had been there since very early, fidgeting with her hair over and over again in front of Stephanie Johnson’s mirror, and deciding to apply some of her glittery makeup just because. The party wasn’t even close to starting, neither was she the host or the one getting in trouble for throwing a party when her parents were out, but she felt nervous. Over the summer Steve Rogers had gotten hella cute, but to be completely honest, Y/N always thought Bucky Barnes was the cute one of the pair. And tonight, they would be there.

At least she hoped. Stephanie had invited Steve, and Steve never went anywhere without Bucky. Maybe she would try talking to him. She didn’t have a plan, it was not like her 12 year old brain could plot more than “run casually into him and start a conversation” which was definitely all her plan consisted of – truth be told it would be easier to talk to him in Chemistry or Math, but for whatever reason she never had the courage to give him more than a small wave and a warm smile.

Ugh, stupid Bucky Barnes. Why did he have to stick to the walls all night long? So far she tried twice to run into him, and both times proved incredibly difficult given the young boy stuck to corners and spaces far away from the crowd. Plus Stephanie’s house was too big, if she had a smaller living room then maybe people would be closer to each other, making it super natural to bump into people, but right now? It was impossible.

Eleanor Torres had started a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, and even though there was probably a one in a million chance that Bucky even joined the game, let alone be the one to kiss her, Y/N added as casually as she could, that maybe they should extend an invitation to Bucky who looked close to a fish out of water the more time passed.

Her hands were sweaty as the first few rounds went, and when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, Y/N was too busy trying to avoid staring at Bucky to even care. Before she even knew it, it was his turn, and Gina, Y/N’s best friend at the time, pinched her arm, knowing full well that her friend had a minor – actually more like medium, edging on the brink of major – crush on the dark haired boy with sparkly eyes. It was maybe too much for her to wish it’d land on her, but she hoped. As long as it didn’t land on snobby Christina Watson, she’d take about anything.

The bottle slowed to a stop, the shiny cap dead center on Y/N and she fought the butterflies and blush threatening to spill over. When he remained there, almost frozen on the spot, she tried her best not to think it was because he didn’t want to do this with her, so she got up, deciding to cut the awkward tension off and offered Bucky a hand, before leading the two of them into the closet.

He turned on the light, and there was laughter on the other side of the door as the lock clicked in place. The seven minutes started now, and Y/N would need more than an hour to figure out where to even start.

“Hi. I-I’m Bucky” he said adorably and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, giving him a handshake like strangers meeting for the first time.

“I know. I’m Y/N” she followed along. Maybe this would make things more at ease? Less stuffy? Whatever. Except the silence reigned for around 2 minutes, but it’s not like Y/N was counting.

Except she was because if there was something she knew was that she wouldn’t mind one bit if Bucky Barnes was her first kiss. In fact…

“A-are you… Do you want to kiss me?” the words blurted out before she could stop them, but after having them out there, she decided maybe it was better. Unless he said no and then she would never live down the embarrassment, Oh god what had she done, why did she blurt that out like that- her rambling was stopped by the sight of Bucky slowly nodding his head. She gave him a tender smile, one filled with relief, and well, she had started it, so it made sense she leaned in first, pursing her lips and closing her eyes, waiting for Bucky to perform the next move. Your turn Barnes.

And he delivered, the warmth of his body felt closer and closer until finally, slightly rough inexperienced lips touched tender inexperienced lips. Soft, shy, goosebump inducing, the tensing of the chest. It was all things she could never describe, but everything that felt good.

He pulled away first, and she found it normal. Kisses had to end.

“I’m sorry” came out like a train from his lips, lips she now knew. “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” his stutters were cute.

“Me too” she said, feeling the warmth take over her face, admitting he was her first kiss wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, in fact she was glad to know they both shared this, in a whole new level. Wherever life took her Bucky Barnes would always be her first kiss, and she would be his.

Kisses had to end to restart again, right? Separating was easy, not because she didn’t enjoy the kiss, despite not knowing what she should have been enjoying in the first place, but because she wanted to gain her breath and press another kiss to his lips, this time maybe a little differently, less childish, with hands ghosting his arms before retracting in fear that was not where they were supposed to go, now busy playing with the hem of her shirt, and his fingers slowly touched hers before retreating as well, but the chills remained.

Timid and inexperienced kisses were shared. Maybe they didn’t learn anything from it, but it was nice, as nice as a shy first kiss in a closet could get. Their last moments together in the confines of the closet filled with bashful pecks characteristic of their age. And then for good measure, something different just to see what it would feel like, as she opened her mouth a little more, inviting him to do so, and she understood why grown ups did it. It caused even more chills.

She could only stare at him when they separated for the last time, processing everything but unsure of what to say. The door was opened on the seven minute mark, and the party-goers found them standing there, and she was sure she was so red there was no need to kiss and tell on a girl’s sleepover that weekend, she was sure everyone knew, but she didn’t care. Her friends scooped her away before she could even formulate a sentence, express her gratitude, did you even thank people for kissing you? She didn’t know, but she felt as if she owed Bucky something, anything, for sharing so much with her. For making a memory that would last for eternity.

 ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

She does a double take when her brain thinks she’s spotted something unusual. Like she wasn’t expecting it to rain outside and suddenly there’s thunder, that’s how encountering Bucky Barnes 7 years later feels like. She’s rushing into the kitchen of the frathouse where he’s stood, stuck in place much like the first party she ever saw him in way back when, he looks almost exactly the same, except he’s oh so different. Different yet still familiar.

“Bucky?” the words feel foreign in a way, maybe she was making a mistake, but his face told her otherwise “Bucky Barnes?”

“Oh, god” he says before there’s laughter shared between the two of them and Y/N finds herself wrapped in his arms. The arms of the Bucky Barnes, her first kiss and first crush. Could have been her first boyfriend too but Chris Beck had asked and then she had moved and she hadn’t heard about either since. “Y/N, it’s been… wow”

“So long! You go to MIT too?” it was the only logical explanation, a clear magical coincidence

“Yeah, you go here?” his disbelieving eyes – still oh so blue and sparkly and filled with emotion – were fixed on her.

“I do! Art and design” she presented “sophomore year”

“Civil Engineering major” there’s a short scoff from him “sophomore year!” And there it was, the confirmation that he was so close all along.

“What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” His slight bear suited him so well, and the new hair? The black semi translucent shirt with little daisies dotted all over, and that top button undone, wow that must be a crime to look so– she stopped her thoughts, worried she would become too flustered.

“You too!” there’s a blush taking over her cheeks at the way he takes her in from head to toe.

“Steve is here too?” She looks around, the two of them worked like a packaged deal, maybe he wasn’t far away and she would be able to calm the butterflies in her tummy that were slowly coming back alive if Steve was there too, it would feel more casual and not at all like she was imagining him there because she wanted it so badly.

“He’s…–” Bucky looks around, Y/N takes the moment to really take him in. Bad choice, more butterflies– “around, lost him long ago” he shrugs and before you can say anything else, there’s a hard tug on your shirt, with a quick glance you see Nat beckoning you over, right, the two of you were on your way to find Nat’s boyfriend and his friends for something or other. Y/N is quick to announce that she’ll be right over, deeming more important to make sure Bucky isn’t gone forever once more.

Her heart races as she begins her goodbye. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” her phone is quickly on her hand, initiating the motions to add a new number “We have to meet and catch up” 

Bucky Bucky Bucky was the only thing on her mind right now, and she would love to see him again and again and again. Definitely because he was an old friend that brought with his sole presence a sense of being at home, and not because suddenly she was warm, even more so when his fingers brushed hers in the phone exchange. Definitely not because she found him really really handsome.

“Definitely” He says with a grin, and she loses the battle against her common sense, finds herself pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, before she can catch a single ounce of rejection on his face.

Fuck, seven years. Seven years and she finds herself falling for his cute face and adorable personality all over again. Seven years but he feels just the same in her heart.

  ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!!

THE OTHER END OF THE REENCOUNTER?!?!?!? CHECK! I told you he was her first kiss too! And she’s definitely not crushing on him pshhh no, it’s been seven years, there’s no way… right? ;)

[nicole-lynne]

Worlds Colliding - Chapter Fifteen

Hey Guys! Here is the last official chapter of Worlds Colliding. This story really has been so important to me, especially as a writer. I loved the characters, and my heart broke along with theirs, and I even struggled to understand my writing. But all that’s left is the epilogue! I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and thanks for sticking around with me through my months of silence. Please like, comment, and reblog if you’ve liked the story! 

Also side note, I just discovered that my posts won’t be shown in the tags they’re tagged in if I have links to my other posts. So if you want to catch up on the story, the link to my master list is in my bio! Enjoy, like, follow, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!!!

Warnings: Heartbreak

Description: Natalie has to face her fear of living in a world without Dean Winchester. 

Stiles set Natalie on her bed softly and pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. She had fallen asleep in the car, her tears taking the last bit of strength out of her. She looked like a sad little angel now, her eyes puffy with bruises and tears, her lips swollen. 

After placing a kiss on her temple, he began to tiptoe out of the room. 

“Stiles?” Natalie’s cracked voice sounded foreign to him. 

He turned around and hurried to her side. “Yes, sweetheart?” His fingers traced the curve of her jaw as he watched the emotions on her face. 

“Can you please ask Sam to come in here?” Stiles’ hand dropped to his side and his shoulders tensed. “I just, I need to talk to him. I need to be there for him.” 

Stiles frowned. “Why? He wasn’t here for you for five years.” 

Natalie grabbed for Stiles’ hand and intertwined their fingers. “Because he’s my family. And he just lost his brother. And I need to support him.” 

“I know but-” 

“I need you to understand, Stiles. He’s always going to be my family.” 

With a curt nod, Stiles stood up to go in search of Sam. When his footsteps faded, Natalie stiffly sat up and wiped the tear streaks on her face with a tissue. As the silence clung to her, agony bubbled in her chest, Dean’s face hidden in every shadow of her mind. How could she live in a world without him. Without the thought that he was somewhere, alive. 

Her mind flashed to a distant memory and she stood up quickly, beginning to dig through her bottom drawer. Finally, she found what she’d been looking for. The only flannel of Dean’s she’d let herself keep. All these years, it still smelled like his cologne. It still smelled like home. Natalie slipped the worn shirt over her arms and buried her nose into it. 

“He’s been looking for that flannel for five years. Should have known where it was.” Sam’s voice was hollow but when Natalie turned to look at him, there was a ghost of a smile. 

Natalie smiled into the collar of the shirt before moving backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed, letting herself fall carelessly. “It was always my favorite. I honestly couldn’t bear the thought of letting it...him go.” 

Hesitantly, Sam sat down next to her on the bed. His hands were sitting awkwardly on his knees and automatically she slipped her tiny hand into his. She could see his eyes were red from crying and his hair was disheveled. Out of need to feel something familiar, she rested her head on his shoulder. 

“He loved you, Sammy. Dea-He loved you more than anyone else.” The words scratched her throat. 

Sam squeezed her hand delicately. “Dean loved you too, Nat. It’s been you since he was eleven years old. No one ever compared to you in his mind.” 

Natalie’s mouth could form no words, so she sat in silence. The idea that she had been the one for Dean, even after all these years, was another stab in the heart. 

“But it was his love for me that ruined the best thing he ever had. I hurt you both, Nat, and I couldn’t be more sorry.” Sam’s voice cracked as a tear freed itself. “I keep thinking about how different things would be right now... how Dean would still be alive if I hadn’t been such a selfish person. I killed him...” 

Natalie flung her arms around Sam and hugged him tight. “Don’t think that way, Sam. None of this is your fault. It’s mine... It’s my fault for being...whatever the hell I am. I’m messed up and now Dean is gone because of it.” 

Sam leaned back to look at her and wiped a tear off of her cheek. “Dean loved you, Nat. Despite what our dad, the world, and even what I said. You may be supernatural, but you’re still Natalie. He didn’t care... and I don’t care either. You’re my sister.” 

The pair hugged tightly for what seemed like hours. Finally, as exhaustion consumed them, Sam laid her down against the pillows and cuddled against her. Natalie took a deep breath, letting the smell of Sam fill her lungs. It wasn’t Dean, but it was still comforting to her.

“I can’t believe he’s gone, Sammy. I don’t know how to live in a world without Dean Winchester. I don’t want to forget what it’s like to have him.” 

Sam took a deep breath, letting the thought settle in his mind. “Ya know, a couple years ago, we were at this diner one night. We had just fought this insane ghost and I was just worn out. But Dean kept bugging me about getting a burger. Like we killed the thing and then immediately, he wanted a burger. He was driving me crazy.” Natalie snorted at the image. 

“So we finally find some place open, and he gets his damn burger. After a few minutes, I asked him how he could think about food when we just killed this world ending, evil creature. All he did was grunt and said that when he was in a bad mood, you’d always get him burger, so he just needed a burger that night. I was literally dumbfounded. It had been three years and he hadn’t mentioned you once.”

A pang hit your heart for a moment before same continued. 

“I always knew he thought about you, but I think he never brought it up because of me. I was staring at him, waiting for him to say anything else about you. But he just shrugged and didn’t speak for the rest of the night.”  

A giggle erupted out of Natalie at the thought of Dean thinking of her because of something so insignificant. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Sam chuckled, “The reason I told you that is because I want you to know that you were always there with him, even when you weren’t. It’s the same for him. Dean is never going to leave you, Nat. You’ll be doing something so simple and it’ll remind you of him. You won’t forget. And neither will I.” 

With a sigh, Natalie rested her head back against Sam’s chest. Dean’s missing presence pressed down on them, a constant reminder that he would never be back. 

---

Natalie fumbled for the zipper on the back of her black dress, her trembling fingers dropping it over and over again. From the moment her powers had been unleashed on Orobas, it had been impossible for her to shut them back in that box. Power was surging through her body in pulses and it felt like her body was just a shell. Her ground had given way and now she was falling, losing her breath minute after minute. 

Every time she gripped the zipper of her dress, a jolt of power would shake her to the core and the metal would slip from her grasp. Just as she started to get frustrated, a firm hand gripped her waist and the other pulled the zipper up her back. 

Stiles’ big brown eyes connected with hers in the mirror, sympathy radiating off of him. She tried to smile at him but her green eyes were empty. Tenderly, he placed a kiss on the back of her neck and stepped aside. 

“Are you ready, beautiful?” 

Was she ready? Her feet were already aching from her heels, she had a burn from her curler, she’d been crying for three days straight, and she was going to burn her best friend’s body. Nothing could prepare her for this day. 

But instead, she nodded, avoiding Stiles’ gaze. He held his hand out for her but she moved toward the door, pretending she hadn’t seen his outstretched arm. Stiles frowned but moved into Natalie’s path stopping her. She looked up at him in surprise, tears welling in her eyes once again. 

He placed both hands on her cheeks tenderly. “I know this is going to be hard, Nat, but I’m here for you no matter what. I...I love you.” 

Natalie tensed at the confession, the air in the room getting thicker. “Stiles-”

“No, listen to me,” His thumb caressed her skin, “I know you’re heartbroken right now. And I know you’re scared. I see how much your abilities are affecting you, but you need to know, I’m right here. I’ll be your anchor.” 

“My what?” She whimpered softly. 

“Your anchor. When you’re scared, or lost, or just feel like your powers are too much for you, I want you to think of me, and know that I’m by your side. As your anchor, you can focus on me and that will help you control your powers. I’ll never judge you or hurt you.” 

Natalie let herself fall into Stiles’ arms, and the moment she did, she could feel the pressure release off of her chest. Stiles’ heart leapt as her face nestled against his neck and her brown curls tickling his cheek. “What if I hurt you?” 

Stiles chuckled slightly, rubbing circles into her back. “Babe, I’ve dated a werewolf and a banshee, my best friend is an Alpha, and I’ve been possessed by a Dark Kitsune. I think I can handle a...” He trailed off. 

“Exactly! No one even knows what I am. I’m a freak.” Natalie spat out, clinging to Stiles tighter. 

He smoothed her hair down as it began to lift as she worked herself up. “You’re not a freak, you’re...unique! And I’ll be right here to help you control your powers. We’ll figure this out together...all of this.” 

Natalie sighed deeply, wiping the tears from her face. Softly, she pressed her lips to Stiles neck for a few seconds before pulling away. A small smile grew on his face and he squeezed her once before releasing her. 

“Now take a deep breath, clear your mind, and let’s face today together.” 

Natalie gave him a timid smile, her eyes puffier than before. She tapped her feet awkwardly against the wood floor before turning and heading out the bedroom door. 

Natalie peered over the railing to see Dean’s family friend, Bobby sat at the bottom of the stairs in his wheelchair next to Sam. He had offered his home to Sam the moment he’d mentioned needing to burn Dean’s body. 

It felt foreign to her to be in the home of someone who knew Dean. Bobby had known a Dean that Natalie never got the chance to know. But the sunken faces that met her reminded her that Dean had been someone to other people as well. 

Sam stepped forward as Natalie reached the landing and she slipped her arm through his.

She lifted her eyes up to meet Sam’s, the finality of what was happening began to truly sink in. “Are you sure I can’t even keep his jacket, Sammy?” Natalie’s voice was timid. 

His red-rimmed eyes looked down at her for a split second before looking away and she had to bite her lip to avoid the tears spilling again. “I’m sorry, Nat, but he could become a vengeful spirit if he stays in this world. If there’s something to tie him here, then he won’t leave you. He’s too stubborn to move on willingly.” 

“I don’t want him to leave me, Sam. I want him to stay.” Stiles’ heart squeezed at those words, dying to pretend he hadn’t heard that. But instead, he ducked his head and tried to block out the rest of the conversation. 

Bobby rolled forward and awkwardly rested his hand against Natalie’s forearm. She closed her eyes at the contact, trying to restrict the tears threatening to escape. 

“I know you don’t know me, but trust me, living on the other side isn’t something that Dean would want. It’d be torture for him, seeing you, but never being able to have you.” His hand slipped down to squeeze her hand. “This is the best thing for him.” 

Natalie leaned into Sam’s side, her features grim, fearing that she’d lose her strength right there.

“Take me outside, please.” 

The air was thick and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. There were a few people waiting in the yard, all sharing tears and stories over Dean. Sam had named a few, Judy Mills, Lisa and Ben Braeden, Charlie Bradbury, and Kevin Tran. All their conversations fell to a hush when Sam and Natalie moved into sight.

Natalie moved her gaze to see Dean’s lifeless body laying on a raised board, junky cars surrounding him in every direction. As she moved closer, she could see his hair brushed back, a peaceful look on his face. The wrinkle between his brows that he would get when he was thinking was gone. The purse of his lips when he was being playful was gone. The crinkle by his eyes when he was laughing at something was gone. It was all gone. 

Stiles watched as Natalie snapped her eyes shut, wanting this visual to disappear, her fists opening and closing at her sides. He moved to take a step forward and pull her into him. But before he could get close, Natalie was leaning down to Dean’s body. 

Her lips were centimeters from his ear, but there was no warmth coming from him. 

“I will always love you, D. I know you’ll be with me until the end.” 

Then she placed a tender kiss to his cheek, letting a tear fall next to his head. Her shoulders rolled back and she took her place next to Sam. 

Sam took a deep breath, then another, before stepping forward and pulling the torch out of its spot. The fire flickered with excitement to do its job. It was a job that everyone else was dreading. He tilted the torch forward and the pyre was immediately engulfed with flames. 

Natalie’s vision blurred with tears as she watched Dean disappear before her.

Tags: 

@multifandomdisappointment @music-magic-mayhem @ghostaccio @screamxqueenx94 @rissyrapp20 @dark-night-sky-99 @pissoffghost-korg @lettersofwrittencollective

[jejublr]

hi hi nat bb how about "a midsummer's day" and my man seungcheol!

“A Midsummer’s Day” & Seungcheol

hey haley~ i’m sorry this took so long! shoutout to bee @kwanlilies for helping me out with the inspo of this drabble! 

“Ow! Seungcheol!”“Shh, stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair,” Seungcheol playfully quipped as you felt his fingers fumble clumsily between your strands. You were well-aware of his lack of skills in the braiding department from the very beginning, but how could you deny his request when he gave you that wounded puppy look? Setting aside the fact that he’s the worst possible candidate to be braiding your hair, you do enjoy having him so close to you.Like right now.Days like these were the ones you’re glad to spend with Seungcheol. The air was sweet with pollen, with traces of dandelions dancing in the wind, its fluffs carried to foreign soils with promise of a new tomorrow. Both of your graduation caps were long forgotten, chucked aside on the grasses somewhere in the midst of your game of chase earlier. Summer was at its peak with lush greeneries reaching out towards the sun and bees buzzing languidly as they danced flower to flower. The sun streamed down on your face through the cracks in the tree and you welcomed the heat as you both unwind under the oak in the summer heat, as you had done for many years.

Everything seems hazy, like something out of a fond memory.“Cheol?”“Hmm?” your best friend hummed absentmindedly. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“What? All the way to the city?” Seungcheol quirked an eyebrow as he let out a laugh so light it seemed to drift away along with the wind.

“You think some Seoul university would take in someone with my grades?” he chuckled, brown eyes crinkling around the edges as he flashed you that gummy smile that never ceased to make your heart skip a beat. It hurt a little to hear him say that about himself but you, too, were aware that studying wasn’t exactly Seungcheol’s top interest. “You’re the brain here, nerd. After all, I’ve got to take care of the farm, y’know? Somebody’s got to take care of mom, too.”

“You’re not throwing me a farewell party?”“I don’t do those kind of things, you know that,” Seungcheol sighed as you felt him fix a nick in your hair. “I’m not good at goodbyes and saying it to you would be as if we’re not going to see each other again.”He glanced up. “You will be coming back, right?” “Of course. There’s no way I’m not gonna miss this.”“Miss what?”“This,” you gestured around you. “I’m gonna miss this place; my room, this tree, riding on the tractor, cycling along the river-bend... And believe it or not, I think I’m gonna miss Mrs Wok and her demon cat, too.”Seungcheol snorted and you could feel him rolling his eyes. “Pshh, as if.”

“It’s true!” you whined, mind recalling back to the times she actually took good care of you when your parents were away. To be honest, she wasn’t half bad despite her somewhat aggravating disposition. You figured she was just lonely. And spent too many years brining in her own salt. Like the lot of us. “And I’m gonna miss you. A lot.”

He was silent as he finished off your braid, tying the loose end with a hair tie. He put a hand on your shoulder.

“Me, too,” he confessed quitely. “I’m gonna miss us.”

And then he turned to you and his eyes were soft but full of hope. “You won’t forget me, right?”

You smiled. “Of course, I won’t. I promise.”

After all, how were you supposed to forget the very face that made your heart beat erratically in your chest? You only dream that one day, you’d be brave enough to tell him just that.

But then that was all it was. A dream. A dream you were both forced to wake up from and grow up off. Life got in the way and childish fantasy were forced to be put on hold.

You moved to the city not long after graduation, leaving the home and the boy you’ve known all your life for the uncharted city with the promise of a million dreams.

You had promised to call Seungcheol often as he gave you a last “good luck” and as did he, but even after all those years, you had somehow lost all contact with Seungcheol. Your daily phone calls reduced to thrice a week, then once a week, and then you stopped altogether. Life took hold of you and all what was left was the echoes of regret and a faint nostalgia of a young boy whose heart you left to collect dust in the inner corners of your memory. You figured that’s just how life was. People come and go and although it pains you, that’s just how life is.

Things didn’t work out and you simply blamed fate.It wasn’t until years later that you came back. It was weird to finally be back after all this time.

It was odd, to see the same people who you grew up with, still living in the town you left so long ago. The people a little older, the painted roofs have faded in color, but it’s still the same old town you grew up in that you came to miss. Despite the years that have gone by, people greeted you with so much warmth as if you never left. The neighbouring ladies who used to sell produce gushed on how much you’ve grown and the kids gapped at your car in wonder. People sent you friendly waves as they worked in the rice fields.

It was nice being back and meeting everyone you practically grew up with but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Something important. You didn’t realize what it was until you saw it standing at the door of your childhood home.

Or rather, who.

“Hello, Seungcheol.” You greeted the boy currently standing at the door to your childhood home. The boy you loved who, really, was more of a man now. He looked much more mature. Broader. Taller. His baby cheeks gave way for a chiseled jaw and his once shaggy hair was cut short and clean, with rebellious strands framing familiar doe-like eyes.

“You came back,” Seungcheol gaped, eyes unwavering from your face.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you tucked a stray hair behind your ear. You felt as shy as a school girl all of the sudden, with his eyes searching your face as if he was afraid that you were just another fragment of his daydream.

He took a wary step, then the next, and the next thing you know, you were wrapped in a warm, engulfing hug. You were taken aback but then realized that it was just Seungcheol. A little bigger, a little older, yet every inch of him still felt like the old Seungcheol you’ve always known. The one that pushed away the bullies when you got teased. The one you spent summers with cloud-watching in your backyard. The one that you rode the bike with to school through the sprawling fields and made promises with under your special tree on the top of the hill.

The one Choi Seungcheol you realized you had fallen in love with, only moments before you left him with a broken heart.

And he smelled like home.

“I missed you,” he said in a broken whisper.

You missed a couple beats but soon enough, you found yourself hugging him back twice as strong. “I missed you, too.”And at that moment, flowers bloomed like summer rain after a long drought. The hope you thought withered away as you grew up returned and just like that, it was like finding your missing puzzle piece.

This was what you’ve been looking forward to ever since you’ve gone away.Your Seungcheol. Home.And it was that Wednesday on a midsummer’s day that your story began again.

[evenheroesbleedastonyfanfic]

Chapter 1 “Remembrance Day”

             It’s time. He doesn’t want to but he knows he has to get up. He could hear the alarm clock blaring across the room. Silently he cursed to himself. There’s really no need for the alarm. He doesn’t sleep deep enough to need one but he keeps it anyway.

             It was Steve’s alarm.

             He tried, a thousand times, to get rid of the damned thing. But he couldn’t even find the courage to change the time on it so it didn’t go off at such an ungodly hour. God, why did he always get up so early, he thought. Every time he tries his heart contracts and he’s left shaking and drenched in sweat. So he just lives with it—even though it’s a painful reminder that Steve would never wake up early to watch the sunrise again.  

             Somehow he managed to get out of bed and get ready. It’s Remembrance Day, a day dedicated to the fallen heroes of the war against Thanos. It’s also the day Steve died. A day he would rather forget. A day he can never forget. A day no one would ever let him forget. Because as the world celebrates the bravery and sacrifice of Captain America, Iron man should always bear witness. The husband. The widower. The one he saved the world for and gave up his life.

              To Tony Stark, it was pure torture.

              He’d rather be lying down dead beside his husband. But Steve made sure he lived. That fucking bastard,” he muttered as he made his way to the helipad where the Quinjet is waiting to take him to Washington. There, he and the remaining Avengers are going to be honored for the 7th year in a row. Dead for 7 years and Steve still drives him insane. He’d give everything to have him back.

               The flight was only less than an hour but he could already feel his head throbbing.  He’ll definitely be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Good, he thought. Maybe then they’ll let him skip the ceremonies. As soon as the thought came to him he knew it was never going to happen. The world needed a symbol for their superficial annual grieving. Why they can’t understand that he is still living with the grief is beyond him. All he wants is to be left alone. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how selfless Steve was—he sees the proof in the mirror every day.

              He found Rhodey in the standby room, already finished with his coffee.

             “No Peter and Harley again?” Rhodey asked as soon as he saw Tony by himself. Tony shrugged. He’s used to going alone to this charade now. Peter refused and begged Tony not to force him to attend the ceremonies from the beginning. I can’t do it Dad! I can’t let him go! Meanwhile, Harley stopped coming after the 3rd year. If Peter doesn’t have to go, then I don’t want to go. He wanted to get mad at his children, but he knew how hard it was for them. Things weren’t exactly peachy between Peter and Steve when Steve died. Steve was still trying to make amends for leaving him for Bucky. Peter, who was old enough to understand what his Pops had done, couldn’t forgive him.

             “Isn’t this supposed to start at 8? Where is everybody?” he asked, changing the subject. Before Rhodey could reply the door opened and in came Nat and Sam.

             “Bruce isn’t coming,” Nat spat. “And so is Thor. It’s just the four of us today. I can’t believe those shitheads, missing something this important!”

             Tony and Rhodey exchanged curious looks. Natasha is in one of her moods—something they’ve seen getting more frequent over the years. She used to be one of the hardest people to read but ever since she lost Steve, the person she trusted the most, she had become temperamental and careless. Sam subtly signaled them not to engage with her. And they didn’t. Tony had no desire to further agitate his already massive headache. Hesilently wondered how Sam could tolerate her temper tantrums. Maybe the rumours about them being a couple now are true. Whatever. It wasn’t really not his concern. As long as Sam is there to make sure Natasha doesn’t go off the edge he could care less about their status. He just wants to get this event over with so he could go home and sleep.

             These days nothing hardly ever happens in the world. Yes, they still had the occasional nuisance. But nothing major enough to require the services of the Avengers. They’ve become nothing but figureheads. Perhaps the hullabaloo with Thanos wore out would be bad guys. He couldn’t decide if it was a bad thing. Yes, they had peace. But all he wanted was peace of mind. And since he couldn’t really get that he craved distraction—which is so hard to come by these days.

             Tony silently thanked the heavens when one of the organizers finally fetched them. The presidents were already onstage. It was show time.

               Skies were blue. There was a gentle breeze. Everything looked and felt perfect.

              Fuck me. It was all Tony could think.

              Fuck me. Fuck you. This is all your fault you selfish sonafabitch.

              They were playing a tribute video for Captain America. The background music was deep and sweeping and full of drama. It was supposed to bring tears to everyone’s eyes. He didn’t need an audiovisual cue. All he needed to do was think of his husband’s smiling face, the one he will never see again, and he is lost. Lost in an ocean. Adrift and drowning at the same time.

              His memories took him to the night he first met Steve in person.

              He grew up in the shadow of the super soldier. Steve Rogers. Captain America. All his father could talk about while he was growing up was this man who was the very definition of hero. A man who was so selfless he died to save literally the whole world. To Tony he was like the perfect older brother whose perfectly timed death cemented his place on a pedestal. An older brother he was striving to be, while secretly hating on because he could never be him. He resented him, even though he was nothing but a memory. So when he found out from Fury that Captain America had just been recovered and revived, he just had to see him. He wanted to know if his resentment was misguided. He never imagined that seeing Steve for the first time would take his breath away. He was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen.

              He was still lost in that memory when the first explosion went off.

             “Get the presidents out of here!!!” he heard Rhodey scream. It took him a couple of seconds to register what was going on around them. Another explosion was heard, followed by rapid gun shots.

             “Tony! TONY! Get your head out of your ass! We’re under attack!” Natasha was already running towards the end of the street where the explosion came from. Sam was already airborne, ahead of the swat team assigned to this event. It was pandemonium everywhere.

             He stood frozen for a second.

             Shit.

             And then his muscle memory activated.

             “Friday, get me my suit,” he spoke to his AI. Nowadays he doesn’t wear the automated suit that lets him gear up in seconds. It’s always just nearby though, in this case, in the Quinjet.

             “Already on its way, boss,” his AI replied. A minute later he felt the familiar weight of metal around his skin. It has been so long since he was dressed this way. It almost feels uncomfortable.

             “Look mom! It’s Ironman! He’s back!” he heard a kid scream while he was being dragged away by his mother to safety. The word seemed so foreign.

             “Tony? Are you suited?” he heard Rhodey through his coms.

             “Yeah. Where are you?”

             “I’m escorting the presidents. Sam and Nat are headed east.”

             “Do you have visuals on the bomber?”

             “Bombers. And they’re armed to the teeth—“

              Another explosion shakes them. This time, near the Lincoln Memorial.

              ”Fuck!” Nat’s curse rang in his ear and another memory ate at him.

              Language. The first few years of Captain America’s 2nd life was a source of fond memories. His propriety and naivety gave them all quite a few laughs. But he was also a great leader.

              “I’m on my way to the 2nd location,” he said. He flew towards the Lincoln Memorial, suddenly alert and focused.

              “Tony, please be careful,” said Rhodey.

              “Of course,” he replied. He wanted to be offended but knew his friend only meant well. He knew Rhodey thinks he’s emotionally compromised.

              Nothing could have prepared him for the devastation he found. He smelled and heard it before he saw it. Bodies everywhere. Death. Destruction. The screams of people in pain or running away were piercing. He surveyed the area, looking for the bomber, but all he saw were more bodies, dead and alive. It never used to derail him whenever they were in battle. Sure, he grieved after every fight but during the fight, all he focused on was the enemy.

              He struggled to keep alert.

              “Tony, do you have visuals on the perps?”

              “No, not yet—“

              “HELP! SOMEONE HELP US!”

              A voice steals his attention.

              No. It can’t be.

              “Please! I need help!”

              He followed the voice, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

              “Please, someone, anyone! Help us!”

              There’s ringing in his ears—but the voice was crystal clear. He knew that voice.

              He searched frantically. He didn’t care that the bomber had been forgotten suddenly. All he cared about was that voice. He cannot be mistaken.

              Steve.

              It was Steve’s voice.

              “Help!”

              “Tony, what’s going on?” he heard Rhodey. But he dared not reply, afraid that speaking would break it—whatever spell it was that was letting him hear his dead husband’s voice so clearly.

              “Tony?!”

              He turned off his coms.

              Where are you? Oh God, please let me find him—

              And he did.

[imaginativemarvel]

Visit Me - Loki Laufeyson x Reader Soulmate!AU

Prompt: Soulmate!AU Where every time someone goes to sleep they relive their soulmates worst memory.

Summary: Y/N hates sleeping, she hates the dream she is always forced to have. Every night she goes to bed to feel this overwhelming feeling of fear, coldness and rejection. Imagine if she realized that her biggest enemy is the same man reliving her worst nightmare.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader (SOULMATE!AU, there’s not enough of these out there.)

Word count: 3.5k

Warning: SO I KINDA USE THE WINTER SOLDIER AS A BAD GUY FOR Y/N’s POV BUT LIKE ITS NOT REALLY BUCKY ITS HIM BEING BRAINWASHED DONT HATE ME

A/N: i came up with the prompt myself but if someone did b4 me I’m rlly sorry for not giving credit SENDDDD REQUESTS ❤️ Bucky request will be uploaded tomorrow 👍🏼

[CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST] ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡���♡

The air was cold. You continued to look around you but found nothing but emptiness, lifting your hands to see the chilly blue color take over. Your heart began to race as you quickly set down the mysterious glowing object that appeared in your hands. A voice is called out from behind you as you turn to the familiar face. It was an old man, someone you didn’t recognize. He was yelling, his words wouldn’t form and you couldn’t understand him but you knew he was angry. Suddenly you felt anger rush through your body, but it’s soon taken over by rejection, misplacement and disappointment. You try to lift your hands to your head to grip your hair in agony but you couldn’t; you weren’t allowed to do anything but relive the worse moments of your soulmates life. The old man quickly fell lifelessly and you felt your body jolt awake.

Sweat formed around your body as you sat up and placed your head in your knees. The worse part about reliving your soulmates nightmare when you sleep is that you can actually feel what they’re feeling. Of course you aren’t going to naturally feel upset when you don’t necessarily know what’s happening. Another horrible part is that they never show who your soulmate is; they may show parts of their body, like their hands, but nothing for you to truly recognize them. One you meet your soulmate, their horrible memory is replaced by their most cherished memory, whether it’s the moment they met you or the moment that keeps them alive. Most of the people you knew had already met their soulmates due to them being around the age of 25-35 but you, not so much.

Your soulmate had a weird memory, and by weird I mean not like what everyone else has. Usually people have a soulmate where they consider their worse memory as a fight between their family, a death or maybe even something they did that they strongly regret. You? Your soulmate turns blue and yells at a man before he falls to the stairs as if he lost every ounce of life in him. Most of the time people would laugh at you when you told them your nightmare, most of the time they’d tell you it was ridiculous but it was your soulmates worst memory and you couldn’t change that. You’ve been having the memory for years now and not once have you ever thought of a way to explain it.

The horrible memory also was a huge motivation for you, so it had its advantages. You always thought of the possibilities of your soulmate actually being human, I mean no human is just going to randomly turn blue. You tried to think of examples and the only one you were close to comparing him to was the infamous Hulk. He could turn from a simple man to a huge, raging green monster. Or so that’s what the rumors said. You heard about the mysterious man and the mysterious hammer falling from the sky, and you heard about how S.H.I.E.L.D. covered it up. You assumed they had a lot to do with the worlds beyond Earth and that’s why you took so much interest in them.

You didn’t only take your interest in S.H.I.E.L.D. because of your dream, but because of your own worst memory. There was a man that you couldn’t describe, a man you were searching for. If anyone could find this guy, it would be S.H.I.E.L.D., they could find anyone. This man you were searching for took away the only thing you cared about, and he wasn’t a ordinary citizen. He was a monster. A monster who had no emotions and killed on sight, that’s why you dedicated your life into finding him.

It was your fifth year of training to be the perfect assassin and you were declared to be in the top five greatest worldwide. S.H.I.E.L.D. was highly impressed with you, it usually took over 15 years of training to be on the level you were on, but you were just highly motivated. Your motivation was to meet the man who has lived his life in constant fear; someone you have lived through night by night, feeling and enduring his pain. And to meet the man who killed your brother. You knew your soulmate would be reliving the moment you saw the soul leave your siblings body, and you knew he would feel the same pain as you, he would be the only person in the world who is capable of saying ‘I know exactly how you feel’.

That night was the last night you experienced the horrible nightmare, for it was the next morning when someone from outside of earth decided to declare war to all humans. That morning you received a call from Nick Fury, surprisingly. You both weren’t close but he knew who you were, what you ranked and how to contact you if in desperate need of help. It was your month off, you were promised a break in a normal house that was off the grid but it was soon turned into another mission.

“We need your help, (Y/N). The team is in no position going against another race lead by a god. Some of our best members are under his trance and we have no solution other than recruiting and preparing to attack. I know you have the opinion to reject my offer but if you do and the world ends because of that-”

“You wouldn’t be contacting me if you weren’t desperate for help, it’s boring being here alone anyways. I’m in.”

You were being guided into the base beneath Stark Tower before reaching the final door. The man opened it up for you and pointed into the room, signaling for you to enter.

“He can attack any minute, Captain. We need to suit up and wait until he attacks!” A raging redhead was loading her gun and placing them in her twin holders while simultaneously yelling at a seated super soldier.

“You want us to be sitting ducks when we could be evacuating the city? Do you really not care about their lives, Natasha?” His face was stone-cold, not once ounce of emotion besides annoyance.

“That’s not what she’s saying Capsicle, she’s trying to say that if we do happen to evacuate the city and they happen to attack us while we’re surrounded by innocent citizens, well, then that’s a bigger chance for them to be hurt. They should be put into hiding, evacuation isn’t the best idea.” The well-known Tony Stark walked out from behind a corner with his whole suit on besides the helmet, eyeing down the blonde man.

The door slammed behind you as the man who once was holding it open had left. The whole teams eyes raced to whoever had just walked in.

“Good, you’re all suited up. I assume Fury let you know the plan?” Tony eyes down your black army pants, spandex and the mask covering your face.

“Yeah, but it sounds like the face of America has something else in mind?” You tilted your head at the angry man who sighed before standing up and putting on his mask.

“Yeah, but nobody is agreeing with me so we’ll just stick with plan A.”

“Good, because your plan wouldn’t have worked anyways. I don’t know where that army is coming from but I’m guessing their coming soon.” You saw the rolling of his eyes as you took the side of everyone else.

“What makes you so sure?” Tony gave you a questioning look before grabbing the helmet on the table.

“Considering they’re coming from space or some type of portal, the weather would somehow change, right? That’s what happened when Thor originally came here, and that’s what’s happening right now.” Tony held out his hand and a projector screen popped up, showing the current weather right outside the stark tower.

“Thor, how long did it take for you to reach earth once you started to travel here?”

“5 minutes, tops.”

“How long ago did you see that, Agent ….” Starks eyes travelled back to you as he trailed on the word.

“(Y/L/N). And about 4 minutes ago.”

“Grab you weapons, looks like we have a war to attend.”

“So we’re just suppose to trust her? We have no idea who she is.” Bruce stood up, staring at Tony and pointing towards you. He was underdressed, but you guessed the hulk didn’t need armor anyways.

“Fury sent her, have some faith or prepare to kneel beneath the rock of ages.” He laughed at his own joke before everyone evacuated the room.

By the time you all reached the top of Stark Tower, a portal had began to open and allowed a foreign army to enter. As if on cue, everyone had ran and separated before defending the city. You were side by side with Steve and Tony, completely destroying every Chitauri in your paths. It seemed never ending, minute after minute new enemies came to you. After a good hour of fighting, everyone was beginning to get tired.

“Loki is on the dock of the tower, the mechanism that is keeping the portal open is right above him.” Thors voice boomed into the earpiece.

“I don’t think I can.” Nats voice is heard before being joined in by Clint. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Is anyone free enough to go visit Reindeer Games?” The annoyance was heard in Starks voice as he found off more enemies.

“I’ll do it, anyone want to help me get up there though?” Realizing you were the best fit to go and face the leader of the pact, you figured ‘why not?’.

“Why borrow a ride when you can steal one from the other side?” You may not have been able to see Hawkeye, but you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

As if on cue, He had knocked down two of the Chitauri’s on a flying vehicle with an arrow. Noticing the motive, you ran toward Steve who boosted you up from his shield; just in enough time for you to land and take control of the flying saucer, riding up to the Tower.

It was hard to control; you had to admit that. Instead of properly landing, you crashed into the window of the tower and fell to the floor of the outside dock. The ear piece that connected all of the avengers thoughts fell out and landed under the crashing machine. You silently cursed under your breathe knowing that they would get worried by not being able to contact you or hear your voice.

“Oh? And who may you be? I must say, just from afar I can definitely tell you’re more interesting than the others.” A playful voice beamed out from the building.

Talking was never an option during a fight; it was either a distraction or just dark entertainment for the other side, so you grabbed out both guns and started shooting straight at the mans head and torso. With a flick of his scepter, the bullets turned around and flew towards you, but you stood up easily and dodged them.

“You humans really are pathetic; you think that stupid machine will come even close to killing me?”

“You’d be surprised.”

You figured any gun or weapon wouldn’t work on him, so you went straight into hand to hand combat. Throwing punches at him only for them to be dodged with his tesseract and magic thrown back. You were quite surprised by how good he was at close up fighting, but you weren’t even close to showing him your true nature. With a swipe of your legs, he fell to the ground, scepter falling out of his hand and out of hands reach. You delivered a few punches to his face to make him more tired and less able to move.

“My, my little one. You don’t seem afraid of me at all! That’s sure it a surprise… and a relief. But you’re rather angry, aren’t you?” He leaned up on his elbows before wiping blood from his lip. You stood up from his body and laughed at his pathetic attempt of manipulating you.

“I’m not angry, only one man in this world holds my anger and that isn’t you.” Your hand reach behind your back before pulling out a katana and pointing it to his neck.

“You can’t blame me, I can’t even see your face. But do tell me, who holds your anger?”

“What’s the point in telling you?”

“Either I win this war and make you my slave or I spend the rest of my life rotting in a cell, I suppose no matter what there is no reason to hide it from me.” He wasn’t wrong, and you didn’t care. You supposed it wouldn’t do any harm, and it would be a good way to distract him.

“I don’t know who the man is. I know he has long brown hair, a mask to cover his face and a huge metal arm with a red star in it. He killed the only thing I loved right in front of my eyes, so he holds my anger.”

His eyes widen completely, eyebrows colliding together in shock. His mouth practically collided with his chest, and you had no idea why.

“What? Do you know the man?”

“Every night I refuse to sleep, but when I do… I have a dream that’s oddly similar.”

In that moment you completely froze, face full of shock, but of course he wouldn’t know that because of your mask. Did he not know about the whole soulmate thing? You always thought it was just humans who were forced to live with this horrible curse, but from the beginning you always wondered what if your soulmate wasn’t human. If he wasn’t, it would explain the dream and how he turns blue. But then again, it would completely demolish the rule where only humans are suppose to live the soulmate plague. It didn’t matter though; if he had your memory then it was his memory that replayed over in your head.

“The tesseract. That’s what turned you blue, right? And that old man who fell to the stairs, was that your dad? Is that rejection and misplacement the reason why you’re attacking all living humans?” The katana that was once in your hand was sliding back into the holder connected to your back. Your legs slowly carried you back in disbelief.

“How do you know that?” He straightened his back up before staring at you in bewilderment.

“You’re my soulmate. No fucking way, my soulmate cannot be such a cruel man, there’s no way… I don’t believe it.”

“What are you speaking about, peasant?!” He screamed at you after demanding for an answer. He really didn’t know about the soulmate rule.

“You seriously don’t know? Humans… humans are cursed to relive their soulmates worst memory when in a deep sleep. I always had a dream where I would hold this glowing box, the tesseract, and it would turn me blue. Then I’d see a man yell at me before falling lifelessly to the floor. I’d feel rejected and like I didn’t belong, I’d feel every emotion that man was going through just like how you relived mine. You had to! You had to have dreamt about that man killing my brother, that’s because we’re soulmates. Two meant to love each other until death.” His eye squinted towards you before taking all the information in. “Maybe it’s not just humans who have this curse, maybe it’s for anyone as long as their fate aligns with a human.”

“I suppose if I was suppose to love any human, I’d prefer you.” His eyes were staring at your mask, full of honesty. Ironic for the god of mischief.

“Oh no, don’t do that. Just because you’re okay with this doesn’t mean I am! You’re destroying New York and killing innocent people! God, out of all the people I’m destined to be with you?” Your hand collided with your hair as your other balanced onto your hip.

“Just because I would pick you over any other pathetic living human does not mean I am okay with it! But… you’re the only one who understands what I was feeling during that moment, correct? Just like how I understand how you were feeling when-”

“You’re saying that we’re the only ones that truly understand each other’s pain.”

“Precisely.” There was a moment of silence, a moment where neither of you knew what to say, what to do. What were you suppose to do? He was the leader of the side you were fighting against, the love between you both would never be able to exist.

“What do you want me to do about that? I’m still going to be on the side of humans. Just because you’re my soulmate does not mean I’m going to just abandon the avengers and take over the world with you.”

“I didn’t expect that.” He sat up completely before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was actually hoping you’d stay loyal to them, I would not want to love someone who could turn their back on their allies so fast.”

“Love? You want to actually try to be something? How is that even possible? What can I possibly do?”

As if on cue, the portal closed after hearing a loud explosion. You were too busy thinking about yourself and Loki to realize that there was still a war going on.

“Goddamn it! I’m so selfish, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t worry love, I lost.” Your eyes widened at the words coming out of his mouth, you looked back at the man. His eyes were closed and his knees where bending against the floor.

“How could you be for sure?”

“Look.” His finger pointed to the window, to the largest building in eyes sight.

Every Chitauri that was latched onto a building had fallen to the force of gravity as if their life was being sucked out of them. The many Chitauri Leviathan’s that were roaming the city fell lifelessly into any tower in their way. After a few moments of staring out of the glass wall, the team landing on the dock. The armor covering Tony was completely beaten and the others looked drained of any energy left in them. As they walked in they noticed loki laying on the floor, eyes shut and knocked out.

“Good job, Agent (Y/L/N). I have to give you props for being able to knock a god out.” The captain had given you a salute before walking toward Loki’s unconscious body.

“Amazing, (Y/L/N). You managed to win against my brother!” Thors rock hard arm wrapped around your shoulders before giving you a squeeze.

“Yeah.” You muttered before eyeing down the God that was declared as your soulmate. His lips somewhat curved at the edges, he was pretending to be knocked out so they didn’t realize you were talking to him the whole time, other than fighting him.

After many minutes of talking of what was going to happen to him once he woke, he decided to pretend to wake up to face everyone with a weapon before him. Thor had scolded him before putting chains around him, ensuring he couldn’t escape. Before he could place the muzzle over his lips he looked at the floor and spoke his last words.

“I just wish for you to visit me, that’s all.”

“What, brother? What do you mean?”

He refused to respond and gave his brother silence. Thor sighed before placing the muzzle over Lokis face. He may have been the villain, the man who tried to take things for his own selfish reasoning but you couldn’t ignore the fact that you were meant for each other. You both knew that; and you both knew this wasn’t the last time you would see each other. It may be hard visiting him considering he is going to be taken back to Asgard, but you wouldn’t just give up. Loki would serve his punishment and face the consequences. And until then, you’ll be finding out a way to visit him, just like he asked. Not because you felt bad for him, not because you loved him; but because you both were set together by fate. That had to mean something.

You watched as Thor carried him to the dock, holding his chains in one hand and Mijolnir in his other. Lokis eyes connected with your figure, trying to memorize as much as he could, because in the end all he knew was your last name and your worst memory.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Tags: @saltbagpooky @iamwarrenspeace @txcountrybelle @nadtandy @feelmyroarrrr @xabeautifultragedyx A/N: yes I know it’s 3:34 am and yes I know it’s REALLY late but have you read my bio?

[firethatgrewsolow]

Swiss Time - Chapter Seven

**Sorry for the delay!  And thank you @ladygrange for everything you do for me!  Hope you guys like it. <3**

Robert peered through the hotel window, the snow-capped mountains that had seemed so foreign to him when they arrived now a familiar comfort.  Their week was almost up, culminating in the show in a couple of days.  The time had flown by, and he realized that he was reluctant to leave.  A little, anyway.  He’d not seen Natalie since their castle adventure and subsequent dinner two nights before, and he found himself growing restless, even missing her a bit.  His gaze shifted to the streets below, dotted with shoppers and late lunch goers scurrying about.  A swirl of dark hair captured his attention, and he sat up, narrowing his eyes, only to fall back into the armchair as the woman turned around.  Definitely not Nat.  She was due to move over the weekend and would probably miss the gig, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.  He wanted to sing for her, see her light up as he knew she would.  He smiled, his mind returning to the impromptu performance on the way back from Chillon.  Christ, how stoned had he been?  But it didn’t matter.  Her laugh was all he’d wanted to hear.  Bloody hell, what are you doing?  The click of the door behind him dispensed with the reverie, and he glanced toward it as Jimmy shuffled in.

“So, did you and Natalie enjoy Chillon?  You didn’t mention going.”

Robert took in the guitarist’s mildly perturbed demeanor.  “I haven’t seen you since.  Where were you yesterday?”

Ignoring the question, Jimmy plowed on.  “Did you tour the torture chamber?  It’s supposed to be quite remarkable.”

“Nah, we, uh, didn’t make it there.”

“What a shame.  I’d heard it was not to be missed.”  Jimmy tapped his finger gently against his chin.  “Hmm, I wonder if she’d consider going again.”

“Not likely.”  Robert chuckled, kicking his feet up onto the ottoman.  “I think once might have been enough.  She knows a lot about it, though.  Said she was going to write an article for a magazine.”

“So, our little Natalie Grace is a writer, then?  I had no idea.  She is full of surprises.”

“Well, she’s shy about it, but she must be pretty good.  It’s for a children’s magazine, but a popular one.”  Robert cleared his throat, patting down his jacket for cigarettes.  “You know, um, she’s probably not coming to the gig.”

“Why is that?”

“School stuff.”  Spying Bonzo’s pack on the coffee table, he snatched it up.  “I’ve been trying to think up ways to convince her to stay.  When we were at dinner . . .”

“Dinner, too?” Jimmy asked, cocking his head.  “My, my, aren’t we getting chummy.”

“Well, seeing as how she was free for the evening since you didn’t have a date with her after all . . .” Robert trailed off, pointedly raising a brow.

Jimmy stared back in silence, finally breaking out into a grin.  “Couldn’t resist.”  He reclined onto the sofa. “ So, you have a thing for our girl, eh?”

“I could say the same for you.  Jesus Christ, Jim, she’s a kid.”

“Of course, I’m only joking.  You were talking about convincing her to stay?”  

“Yeah.”  Robert nibbled his lip, treading carefully.  “I was thinking that she could, well, maybe she could write about us.  Like an interview and a piece about the gig.”

“You mean a review of the show?” Jimmy scoffed with a terse laugh.  “That’s absurd.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders.  “Why?  What could it hurt?”

“What would she bloody know about any of it?”  

“She’s pretty smart.”  The singer pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.  “And it might be nice to have her around.”  

Jimmy glanced to the window as a patter of rain hit the glass.  “She is nice to have around, I’ll give you that,” he murmured, the thread of something blooming in his mind.

“I’m sure she’d be complimentary,” Robert added, subtly emphasizing the word.  

Complimentary.  Jimmy pursed his lips, wheels in motion.  It wasn’t an entirely unpromising scenario.  In fact, it was somewhat intriguing.  A young, likely very malleable writer with a strong connection to a major music promoter.  Nobody would have to know that she was barely fifteen, nobody that mattered, anyway, and it would be a welcome change from the stodgy old fucks they always sent out to the gigs.  A friendly word in the local paper certainly wouldn’t do them any harm, and who knew where it could lead.  She wouldn’t be fifteen forever.  But that was down the road.  For now, at the very least, he would have a bit of fun with it.  “You know, I think you’re right.  That’s not a bad idea.  It’s actually a rather good one.”

Robert blinked, surprised by his friend’s acquiescence.  “So, should I ask her to do it?”

“Not directly,” Jimmy replied, shaking his head.  “Let me take care of it.”

“They want me to do what?”  Nat set down her teacup with a clatter, pushing her breakfast away.  “I’ve never done an interview.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh, it can’t be too hard,” Susan chided, waving her hand dismissively.  “Besides it’s the local paper.  You don’t have to be Hemingway.”

“Whose idea was this?”  Nat cut her eyes at her conspicuously quiet aunt.  “Well?  Whose?”

Susan hesitated, drumming her fingers on the dining room table.  “The paper’s editor, from what I understand.”

“Really?  So, I’m a fifteen year old nobody that’s hardly written anything, and somehow, mysteriously, I’m interviewing one of the biggest bands in the world?”

“Well, Christian is friends with . . .”

“Oh, no.”  Natalie grimaced, running a hand through her hair.  “You pulled some weird strings, didn’t you?  Susan, I don’t want to be that girl in school.  Half the kids will probably be going, and if they see this dumb interview, they’ll know that . . .”

“You’re a wonderful writer?” Sue finished, dropping a sugar cube into her tea.  “That’s what they’ll know.  As long as you don’t ask tough questions and give them a good review, you’re golden.”

“Review?  Of what?  I haven’t even listened to their full albums.”

Susan smiled coyly, stirring her steaming concoction.  “The show, darling.  Although, you should probably brush up on the records, too.”

Natalie’s jaw dropped.  “You want me to review the show?”

“Not me . . . them,” Sue purred, taking a sip of her tea.

“Them?  Oh, my God.  The editor had nothing to do with this.  I knew there was something funny about all of it.”  Nat skimmed her thumb along the rim of her cup.  “Who is them?  Robert?”  Her aunt looked artfully away.  “Wait, it’s Jimmy, isn’t it?”

Susan abandoned her tea, making her way to the bar.  “At the end of the day, does it matter, Natalie?  Good lord, you’re impossible to please.  Maybe they just want to do something nice for you to help you out.  A burgeoning writer and all that business.  And what if it was Robert?  I assumed you had a nice time with him.  You have no idea how hard it was to sneak away without you seeing me at lunch the other day.”

“Sneak away?  What are you . . .” Nat’s jaw dropped again as it dawned on her.  “You saw him come up to me.  There was no meeting with the architect.”  She frowned at her aunt’s giddy grin.  “What are you, some kind of twisted matchmaker?  I’m only fourteen . . .”

“Fifteen, you just said so yourself,” Susan chimed, wagging a finger in the air.  “Jesus, Nattie, I’m not trying to get you two together in that way.  At least, not yet.”  She smirked, exchanging her teacup for a thin, crystal flute.  “Listen, it’s a fantastic opportunity.  They’re notoriously crafty with the press.  They rarely grant interviews, and they wanted you specifically.”  She held up her glass with a glimmer in her eye.  “And when the kids from school see you’ve interviewed the band, you’ll be an absolute queen on the campus.”

Queen on the campus?  Jesus Christ.  “But what about moving into the dorm?”

“We’ll figure something out.”  Hands on hips, Sue expelled a weary breath.  “You cannot possibly be trying to worm out of this.”

Nat sensed there was more to it than just a random act of kindness.  Altruism didn’t suit the band.  Surely an ulterior motive was involved, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it would be.  She slunk back into her chair, resigned to her fate.  Sue’s right.  What does it matter?  There were definitely worse things than spending time with four handsome, talented musicians.  And funny and sweet and silly . . .  She clenched her fists, crushing the thought.

“So, that’s a yes, I presume?” Susan beamed triumphantly.  “Perfect!  Their albums are in your room, along with a brand new record player.  Courtesy of Christian, of course.  I also pulled some clippings from my personal collection.  I like to keep an archive on the bands that I . . . particularly admire.”  Sue popped open a bottle of Champagne, pouring a long, fizzy stream.  “And don’t worry, love,” she cooed, peeking at her wristwatch.  “You’re not meeting with them for another five hours.  You’ve got all the time in the world.”

* * *

Natalie tapped her pen on the pages in front of her, exasperated beyond belief.  The interview was an unmitigated disaster.  Bonzo and Jonesy hadn’t even shown up, and getting answers out of Jimmy was like pulling teeth.  She’d spent every spare minute preparing, even gotten a tiny bit excited, and apparently, it was all for naught.  He didn’t want to talk about anything personal, and she’d been shunned when she asked about life on the road.  Everything seemed off limits.  What was the point, she mused dejectedly.  Hadn’t they been the ones who wanted to do it to begin with?  And in hostile territory, no less.  Her gaze roved over the guitarist’s candle laden suite, landing on a trio of half-melted pillars situated on the coffee table.  A small book lay beside them, tattered and torn, and she squinted in an effort to read the title.  His clipped cough brought her gaze back to his.  A reprimand for being curious, she determined as she scanned his blank visage.  Prickly didn’t seem to do him justice.  Maybe leave off the ly.  Hell, he’s probably enjoying this.  How in the world was she going to put any of it together?  She ran through the options one more time.  Influences, go back to influences.  “So, um, what inspires you?  Are all of you into the same kind of music?”

Sighing dramatically, Jimmy rolled his eyes.  “Oh, God, not that again.”

Nat cracked, finished with the cat and mouse game.  “Dammit, this was your idea!”  She threw down her pen.  “What do you want me to ask you, then?  I’ve heard a couple of things about a shark.”

“Natalie, dear, you do cut to the chase,” Jimmy hummed, amused at the rise he’d finally elicited.

“Let’s just say that I’ve done my homework.”  She crossed her arms, her gaze flickering back to the book on the table.  “Would you rather tell me about your interest in, uh, more spiritual matters?”

“Ooh, I see you have done your homework,” Jimmy replied smoothly.  “In that case, why don’t you tell me?”

Recognizing Natalie’s stormy scowl, Robert hurriedly intervened.  “Come on, Jim, just answer the questions.  We asked for this, remember?”  

“Ah, fair enough,” Jimmy conceded reluctantly.  “Pity it has to be so one sided.”  With another heavy sigh, he resettled into the sofa.  “Well, I’d say we all have different influences, to some degree.  There’s a melding here and there, but I think that’s what makes us able keep it fresh and interesting.”

Encouraged, Natalie leaned forward.  “There’s quite a lot of blues in your records so far.”

“Oh, yes, that’s the root of it, I suppose.”  Jimmy glanced to his bandmate, who was clearly champing at the bit to have a word.  “What say you, Robert?”

“What we’ve tried to do is to sort of reinterpret some of the stuff from America . . . Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf.  It’s endless, really.  All those sounds, we kind of spin it round and round until we take it somewhere else.”

“Right, the expansion of it.  That’s important.”  Jimmy crossed his legs.  “I want to create, well, we want to create something that’s dynamic and keep pushing boundaries.”  He paused for a moment, searching for the right words.  “Something heavy that strikes you, and just when you’ve reached the edge, it softens.  Or vise versa.”

“Light and shade,” Natalie offered, grateful that he'd begun to open up.

Jimmy exchanged a look with Robert.  “Exactly.”  He turned back to her with a devilish smile.  “Sort of like making love.”

Natalie swiftly dropped her head, praying that the lighting was dim enough to hide the blush she felt racing onto her cheeks.  Her saving grace was Peter, who lumbered into the room.

“Let’s go, lads, interview’s over.  Ahmet just got back, and they’re ready.”

More than a little relieved, Nat closed her notebook and capped her pen.  “Thanks for taking the time.”  Even though it was mostly a waste of it.  She shoved them both into her satchel as Robert bounded up to her.

“Would you like to come and watch?  We’re just gonna run through some stuff, sort of a sound check.  It won’t last long.”  He held out his arm, his dimple deepening.  “I’ll take a request, if you like.”

Her lips curved at the prospect.  What did she have to lose?  “Sure.  Lead the way.”

Arm in arm, they plodded out of the room and into the hall.  As they reached the elevator, Robert peered behind him for the others, but they were still in the suite.  He punched the button, secretly hoping it would make haste so he could have her to himself for a few minutes.  His wish granted, the car arrived almost immediately, and he hustled on, selecting his destination as quickly as he could.  He caught a glimpse of Peter and Jimmy in the distance as the doors slid blessedly shut.  Mission accomplished, they were alone.  “You, uh, seem to know a lot more about us than I thought.  Very impressive.”

“I did some research,” Nat replied, basking in the warmth of his sideways smile.  “Aunt Sue is a pretty good resource.  Keeps tabs on certain groups that she finds . . . stimulating.”

“I bet she’s got quite a file.”  They shared a muted laugh.  “I take it you’ve listened to the albums?”

“Um, yeah, that would be part of my research.”

“Right.  Of course.”  Robert quietly cleared his throat.  “So, ah, what’s your favorite song?”  

Natalie pursed her lips as their eyes met.  “Moby Dick, I think.”

“The one about the whale, huh?” Robert teased, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“The one with no vocals,” she shot back with a smirk.

“Ouch, that hurt.”  Robert clamped his hand over his heart, and they shared another laugh.  “You know, you did a good job back there with Jimmy.”

Natalie snorted, shaking her head.  “You must be kidding.  I hardly got anything out of him.”

“You got more than most, believe it or not.”  A ping in the car signaled that they’d reached the first floor.  “Pagey likes you.  I can tell.”

“Good God, what does he do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Robert snickered as the elevator doors surged open.  “Nothing.  That’s what.”  

They navigated through the lobby and into the casino, winding around the masses and entering a cavernous room toward the back of it.  Natalie slowly canvassed the drafty space, examining the ancient looking wooden planks that made up the ceiling.  They were cracked and peeling, in need of a facelift.  Hell, a full renovation, really.  “It’s like a matchbox in here.”  She meandered to the wide glass windows overlooking the pool, which was empty, save for a fully clothed woman reading a book.  “Are you guys all set up?”

The floor squeaked underneath Robert’s feet as he padded to the front of the stage, inspecting the equipment.  “Yeah, looks like everything’s here.”  He gave her a wide grin.  “So, what would you like to hear?”

“I don’t know.”  Natalie surveyed the scene, nodding at Jonesy and Bonzo as they passed by.  “This is kind of a lot.”

“If you’re going to be a music journalist, you might want to get used to it.”

Natalie jumped at Jimmy’s words right behind her.  Shit!  Where had he come from?  Probably just thin air.  She spun around, her brow wrinkling.  “A music journalist?  Who said that?  I write articles about castles and history, not . . .”

“This is history, history in the making, darling, and you’re in the center of it all.  It’s fate.  Can’t you see that?  You’d be a fool not to take advantage of your position.”

Nat studied the guitarist warily, at that point quite sure that there was more to the situation than met the eye.  As she pondered her response, he turned on his heel, making his way to the stage.  A group of men in suits were taking their seats beside the platform as pops of bass and the rattle of drums shook the rafters.  Grabbing the microphone, Robert sidled up next to Jimmy, and the four musicians engaged in a few seconds of hushed deliberation.

“As it appears that our little Natalie can’t make up her mind what to request, I think, ah, I think we’ve got something to dedicate to her, yeah?”

The opening strains of Chuck Berry’s “Nadine” filled the room, and Natalie giggled as Robert substituted her name instead.  It was a rowdy, lighthearted rendition, and she was reminded of his silly serenade two nights before.  How anyone could classify him a some Rock God or sex symbol was beyond her.  He was simply too goofy for the label.  At the end of the song, they launched right into a poppy Elvis tune, and then another that she remembered as a child.  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught shifting shadows at the door to the theater.  She watched Robert nod to the large man that was serving as a guard of sorts, and people began to file in.  She pored over their faces, some giddy, some disbelieving, all transfixed as the Elvis number morphed into Buffalo Springfield, which somehow seamlessly transformed into a rollicking “Good Golly Miss Molly.”  It was evident that the boys were completely attuned to each other.  It was tight, but still lively and fun.  They were obviously a great band, but as she followed Robert’s bouncing figure across the stage, she couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about.

Robert beamed, flushed from the applause and cheers of the burgeoning audience.  He glided his eyes over the crowd, delighting in their delight at the unexpected show.  “We’d like to do one more.  It’s from the first LP, and it’s something I hope you’ll like.”  His gaze landed on Natalie at the foot of the stage.  “Particularly one of you.”

Nat could feel the stares of those around her, and she grinned as he winked at her, his gravelly voice cutting through the din.

“I can’t . . . quit you, baby . . .”

In an instant, her grin vanished.  This was different than the other songs.  Very.  Her body shook from the ear shattering boom of Bonzo’s drums and the thunderous bass and guitar that accompanied it.  

“Woman, I think I’m gonna put you down . . . for a little while . . .”

Robert’s wail made her mouth fall open as a wall of sound like she’d never heard before roared around her.  Bluesy and seductive, it enveloped her, heart and soul, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.  He was nothing like the silly serenader on the trail.  This side of him was new, completely alien to her.  She swallowed as a wave of heat rippled through her, a current of electricity the likes of which she didn’t know existed.  As her wide eyes locked on his knowing ones, she finally remembered to breathe.  Jimmy was right.  History was in the making.  And she fully intended to take a piece of it for herself.

[thejamesoldier]

81 Bucky x Reader?

Thanks lovie for sending something in! This was so fun to write bc let’s face it, we’re all jealous hoes when it comes to Bucky xxx

Prompt #81: “Who’s texting you? - “Umm. Nobody.”

{im sorry but this gif is actually making me cry. he’s just so beautiful someone stop him}

A Naked Face & A Phone

There were a couple of Things that happened that ultimately led to your downfall.

The first Thing was Bucky got a phone.

The second was Bucky shaved for the first time since the 40′s. Like not stubble management, but actually full on shaved. Naked face and all.  

Both were huge steps for him and you were so proud. You didn’t tell him that because you’re not Steve and it’d be weird. The only reason Bucky and you have ever spoken is because your the only one he let’s work on his arm.

Stark brought you in because you’re the best of the best when it comes to modern cutting edge technology (which Tony never said straight out, but it was implied and coming from Tony Stark you were flattered). Originally you were only supposed to conference with Stark about creating a new arm for one Sergeant Barnes. Help him with ideas and such because two geniuses were certainly better than one. But when you both brain stormed up a possible first model to present to Barnes before actually making it (because Barnes knows more about it than you two ever would and it would be stupid not to have him involved in the process), he took one look at the graphs and walked out without saying a word.

Tony almost chased him down being offended, furious, and exhausted from about two weeks of no sleep and too much coffee trying to make this for him with you. But you held him back and talked some of Barnes perspective into him. You figured the idea of any kind of surgery on his body would with out a doubt be one of Barnes’ big red ‘DON’T PUSH ME’ buttons on the PTSD panel in his brain.

It took a month of hard conversations and more model work-throughs before Stark, Barnes, and you decided on a final draft. You and Stark manifested this final theory into reality to make the first physical model of Barnes’s new arm. When it came time to put it on though, Barnes took one step into the surgery/tech room, one look at the metal table in the center of hovering machines and assistant drones, and plummeted into one of the most heart wrenching panic episodes you have ever witnessed. It down right broke you in two.  

It took another month for Barnes to be comfortable enough to even look Tony and you in eye (not that it was personal, you had to keep reminding Tony of that), and then another month after that to agree to try again. You couldn’t blame him for his fears. Honestly, if it were you, you would have given up long ago. But Bucky has the kind of soul that is so resilient, so strong even at it’s weakest, that he truly does belong in those comic books and museum murals. He deserved to be made a constellation in the sky to be look up to an awed at. Bucky astounded you.

Of course you’ve never told him that.

It turned out that Barnes was only comfortable with you touching him and securing the new arm because during his time with Hydra, no woman ever worked on him. Sure there were women scientists, but the actual surgeries and operations and tune-ups were left to the male “doctors”. Tony, for once, wasn’t offended if maybe a little troubled. Tony understood it wasn’t about him, it wasn’t even about Barnes, it was about fear and how it controls the mind and body, irrational or not.

It’s been about a year and a half since you attached that first new arm; a year and a half of you hopelessly and secretly pinning over Bucky Barnes.

Currently, you’re sitting in your own tech room (after the realization that Bucky wouldn’t allow anything to be done to him unless you were doing it, you were permanently hired) at Stark Tower, sitting a little crooked on a rollie-stool, bent over at an odd angle, nose deep in Bucky’s newest upgraded arm: JBB Model #024.

For the last hour you have been trying to get a set of wires to cooperate in his forearm and are heavily relying on your stores of patience to not do something childish or over dramatic in front of Bucky. Bucky still couldn’t make himself sit in a chair with a high back or head rest, so instead he sits on a stool too, metal (or vibranium – courtesy of T’Challa) arm resting on the sturdy work table between you. A bunch of tools and gadgets are displayed haphazardly on the generous wide tray. At the beginning of your tune-up the tools were all perfectly organized by purpose and necessity, but as this process dragged on a lot longer than originally planned, you got sucked into the mechanics of his arm and sacrificed your pretty tray for a messy one.

Your eyes hadn’t left the inside of his arm the entire time, blindly grabbing at tools and things as you could not pull your focus away or relax the line that felt as deep as the grand fucking canyon inbetween your eyebrows. Bucky watched every tick and snap you made in his arm. At the beginning he had to watch because he never was aloud to watch before, making sure you were doing what you told him you were doing. He sometimes felt the need to apologize for treating you like a Hyrda doctor, but one look at your face and he knew you understood and weren’t even the slightest bit offended.

He was so grateful.

Bucky now watched yes to oversee progress, but his gripping fear lessened the more he trusted you, and instead his eyes had wandered to watching you. He hadn’t looked at a woman and thought, ‘She’s pretty’ in such a long time that when it happened to him in the middle of one of your regular tune-ups, he had to exercise every inch of self control to not jolt in his seat. You thankfully didn’t notice but Bucky was left with a big ol’ ball of yarn to grapple with now.

As he observes you now, focused like the world will end if you break your concentration for even a second, he gives himself permission to admire you. He’s as familiar with the planes and lines and curves of your face as you are with every inch, inside and out, of Bucky’s arm. You’re simply beautiful, and Bucky feels so refreshed at having such a human thought but also nervous because shit how does this work again? and he’s kept this precious feeling he has for you tucked safe away inside his chest. No danger of being found out because if Bucky is good at anything, its holding onto things.

Barnes believes he’s too fucked up for you, but there’s no law against admiring you from a far (or one foot away) is there? He doesn’t remember that there was. Staring is only rude if you’re caught, which he made sure he never was.

As you tinker away you’re so absorbed in your work that you don’t feel Bucky’s gaze on your face, never have. You go into this zone when you work where everything blurs out, time, hunger, thirst, rest, your surroundings, and its a curse and blessing. Tony is the only one (and Bruce) who gets that.

Now nothing short of the world blowing up could pull you from your focus –

Beep beep!

Your ears register the sound of a phone vibrating and for some reason your brain deems this ‘world blowing up’ serious because you tear your eyes away from the godforsaken wires, to see Bucky blinking down at his Stark phone, large thumb tapping across the screen.

Your sore fingers want to twitch but instead you let your left eye do the twitching instead. Before you can stop yourself because who the fuck is texting Bucky?!! you finally, after a year and a half, trip up.

“Who’s texting you?” You would like to say your voice was casual and friendly, but instead it sounded hoarse from not having spoken in a while and surprisingly sharp.

Bucky’s thumb pauses. A number of reactions and emotions flutter and tumble through him at your tone. Plus the fact that you never once have been distracted, or even made small talk, while working on his arm before and now of all times you break your streak? Bucky ends up settling on feeling mushy and warm but also like gongs were being banged on in his stomach when he hits send, locks his phone, and stuffs it back into the front pocket of his jeans before responding.

“Umm. Nobody.” Now Bucky had no idea why he lied. Obviously someone had texted him (it was Sam yelling at him in capslock accusing him of eating the last of the oreos he had called dibs on; Bucky was totally guilty of this quote ‘HEINOUS CRIME’), but for some reason a foreign instinct told Bucky to be cryptic. To be mysterious.

Barnes’ words hit you like a slap in the face. The obvious fact that you had expected him to tell you was beyond embarrassing. He might be yours in your head, but in reality he barely said two words to you. Of course it wasn’t your damn business to demand to know who’s texting him! Bucky’s looking at you from the corner of his eye like you might have another head sprouting out of your skull or something. Your heart cries and hides under metaphorical covers.

Bucky keeps his profile to you, side-eyeing you with what he hopes is a dark horse (as Nat had called him) sexy confidence, but seeing your face heat up and your eyes blink back an expression of unfiltered humiliation, before you practically stuff your face inside his arm as you get back to work, he realizes you may have misinterpreted him.

Fuck, he thinks, barely stopping himself from huffing like a child, this flirting shit is harder than I remember.

You almost can’t take the never ending Niagara Falls level of embarrassment pouring over your head and soaking your body to the bone. You want to vomit. You want to stab yourself in the eye with the electric tweezers in your hand. You also couldn’t stop even if you wanted to the rush of theories running through your head at who could be texting him. The phone is new, barely a week old so you comfort yourself that he couldn’t have gotten loads of girls’ numbers…

Yet, you’re inner asshole adds.

You know Nat is trying to rope Bucky into her matchmaking game, the same one that she’s been doing with Steve. Your heart gives an extraordinarily uncomfortable squeeze in your chest, but you’re proud to say you didn’t wheeze. You only continue working on the wires, praying you can fix them because sitting here under Bucky’s obviously disgusted eye is Purgatory itself.

Bucky hears your heart do an impressive chorus of pumps and jolts, the only hint that you’re as effected by this as he wanted you to be. Okay maybe he didn’t want to make you feel humiliated, but the confirmation that you cared was so satisfying; he actually loved you wanted to know who was texting him. Your exterior expression is back to its professional masked coolness and Bucky is hit with the itching urge to try to do something to break it again. To peel you out of your formalities and get you offering –

Offering? Bucky’s eyebrows would have knit together but his face is as cool and empty as yours, Offering him what?

Its another ten horrible minutes from hell before you finally fix those fucking wires. As quickly as you possibly can you carefully re-plate his arm, making sure everything is secure and smooth, before near leaping out of your seat and sprinting for the sliding glass door even if this is your workshop. Shut up, escaping was vital to your survival at this point. You shout some excuse about really having to go to the bathroom before Bucky can say anything, door already sliding close behind you.

Bucky stares after you, outwardly impassive, but inside there’s a hurricane of What the Actual Fuck Am I Doing?

It’s been a week since your outburst. You keep torturing yourself with re-runs of the moment to remind yourself why you need to avoid him at all costs. I mean not that you spoke that much anyway, but still you made extra sure. You wish you were cool enough to not have to avoid him and could hide your feelings so effortlessly like Natasha tried to teach you, but you were much more pathetic and therefore, weren’t good at hiding your feelings. You’re surprised you’ve gotten away with it this long. If it was a normal dude you would have been caught much sooner, but since Bucky is so far from normal you realize that’s been your cop out.

Now you’re panicking. Because Bucky, while oblivious to certain things while he re-learns how to be a man, was and still is one of the world’s most deadly assassins with instincts and reflexes as sharp as a fucking laser. Nothing got past him in a professional setting, but now that he’s realizing he can apply those same skills to everyday communication in reading people you have a fairly good dooming feeling that your time has run out.

He’ll emotionally snipe your ass so quick you won’t even know what hit you.

Bucky’s arm tune-ups are weekly. Sometimes more than once a week if there are any minor training incidents or the like. Tomorrow he’s due back in your workshop and you’ve been laying sprawled out on the carpet of your bedroom in your place in Queens for the better part of three hours.

You’ve been meticulously going over emergency procedures, installing ‘self-eject’ buttons, on multiple situations that could occur in that room. You know your end is here but goddammit you’re going in prepared. You know you might be over-dramatizing things, but you’ve been head over heels for this guy for a year and a half. You give yourself a little slack.

It’s tomorrow and your about ready to vomit sitting, or more like jittering on your stool obsessively organizing and re-organizing your tools. Your hair is tied back into a loose ponytail to keep your hair out of your face as you work, but you are tempted to yank a few strands out to hide behind. Before your nerves can get the better of you and release a curtain of your hair, Bucky strides in.

You don’t look up right away, pretending to be professionally preparing your tools for the tune-up. It’s not until Bucky grunts his usual hello and sits down, before you brave a quick glance up and do a painfully embarrassing double take. Your lips part, your fingers drop the tool you just picked up, and your lungs peace out.

Thing #2 happened. He shaved.

The once rugged look Bucky sported had disappeared completely. The loss of stubble on his face revealed the elegant lines of high cheekbones and a diamond cut jawline, high arched eyebrows sitting low and enticing over crystalline cobalt eyes, a swath of coal lashes that cast soft shadows on either side of a swooping nose sitting above the deep valley of his cupid’s bow. It all collected into this handsome portrait of old world charm and beauty.

The sound of your tool clanking against the metal of your tray wrenches you out of your staring. You fumble with it some more making an awful ruckus. Bucky is smiling fondly at you scrambling cross the work table and gently places his metal elbow down in the usual position you like it when you first start. When you eventually wrangle your tools back to their spots and a loud silence reigns over the two of you, you gently run your fingers over his arm before starting the tune-up.

Your cheeks are like two bonfires that adamantly refuse to go out. Bucky watches you blush and blush and blush and blush as you dive nose first into his arm. It’s downright adorable. He hears your heart pump unevenly and fast, doing it’s best imitation of Thumper in your chest. Bucky rolls his shoulders a little and swallows against a dry throat. He takes out his phone and opens up the messaging app.

“Sorry!” You squeak when your fingers twitch at seeing Bucky fucking texting again who the hell is he texting?! and a sensor on the inside of his bicep sends an electric jolt into Barnes’ shoulder.

Bucky feels the jolt but doesn’t do anything but smile when you look up all doe-eyed and jumpy.

“Didn’t hurt.” The supersoldier says kindly, looking in your eyes and letting his smile ink into his gaze. You bite your lip, flutter your lashes in a nervous flurry, and snap your eyes back down to his arm.

Bucky is so damn smug with himself. Knowing for sure that him possibly communicating with other people makes you jealous. At first he didn’t know why you were acting the way you were, he just knew he liked it. It wasn’t until he really thought about it that it came to him. Bucky doesn’t want to play with you, he just wanted to run a few tests of his own before going in for what he so charmingly called ‘Real Obvious Flirting Initiative’.

With a small steadying breath and without taking his eyes off you, Bucky types out a text. His smile grows with your terribly hidden jealousy as you listen to the thick pads of his thumb tap the screen. When he’s finished typing, he checks to make sure there are no weird autocorrected words then hits send.

Your phone goes off with a ding! in your back pocket. You pay no mind to it and continue to work, subconsciously plotting ways to steal his phone and see who he has in his contacts. Threatening every female in his contact list is too much right? Right, yeah too much. Maybe you could accidentally break the phone? No, Stark would get him a new one. Probably even a better one at that. You continue your devious train of thought while pacing on through the tune-up.

Thankfully Bucky doesn’t pull out his phone again, so when you finish you don’t have to bolt out of the room. Again. You look up and deliver (what you hope is) a professional smile and a nod, wiping the grease and fluid off your hands with a rag. Bucky stands, looks down at you and winks.

You’ve never felt so close to death (and maybe heaven) in your entire life.

When Bucky leaves you breathless sitting dumbly on your stool, you pull out your phone and subconsciously check for any messages. 

Today 16:30

Unknown Number: Hi

You furrow your eyebrows and respond.

Today 18:12

You: Who is this?

It’s not a second before you get a reply. 

Unknown Number: Next tune-up you’ll find out

Things went pretty smoothly from there. Sickeningly cute actually but you weren’t complaining (only Tony did but what’s new).

Hi so I hope you liked it! I had a blast writing jealous!reader and smug af!bucky xx

Don’t be afraid to submit something if you so desire! Drabble Prompts are here .

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[thebewisepodcast]

Adapt Young Man, Adapt: A Speech To All Black Men

Without a doubt within the fires of my mind, to this date and seemingly until the end of time, the black male has had and always will have the most unique experience in the history of these United States and beyond. A bold claim that I have no problems at all placing a stake in.

Before any form of opposition arises in the mind, that particular statement is not intended to lessen or cheapen the experiences of any different section of people within this country, but without question if the black male experience is not the MOST unique, it can be argued to be atop the list in some capacity. This here idea was not born to argue the individual harshnesses of each particular struggle. This here is not an argument about which section of people has had it the worst, or is the most oppressed as these United States seem to have a fond history of inflicting oppression upon her people. It can't be ignored though, you will all make the conscious choice to either allow these words to enter your spirit or deny them wholeheartedly. And no matter the path your mind takes, I accept it. So, if I may say to you all, adapt.

I would be remiss if I dared to talk about adaptation and did not even attempt to mention European scientist: Charles Darwin. Western civilization swarmed around Darwin's theories almost immediately as they took fire in the heart and minds of intellectuals all over the globe. Charles Darwin heralded the groundbreaking text, "On the Origin of Species". Published in 1859, Darwin puts forth his theory of biological evolution. For those who know or those who don't know, Darwin laid down the foundation for adaptation, natural selection as well as common descent of species from a common ancestry. What needs to be understood foremost is that these scientific processes have existed from before the dawn of time and did not originate in 1859. Darwin just placed the terminology to the processes. That is key. But in relation to the black male, what do these come to mean? It means that the black man within the confines of the United States prism, is separate from ALL three of these fundamental keys to evolution as it is equated to functionality and expression of self as opposed to evolutionary biology. 

In vain of those three elements of Darwin's theory, the uniqueness of the black experience stems directly from the lack of the opportunity to healthily adapt, being products of an environment (United States) which relentlessly prompts all citizens to survive by any means, and being denied access to recognizing and constructing a community attachment by way of a recognized common ancestry. The original source of where those strifes comes from is not directly the fault of the black male, but is the result of tumultuous relationship of abuse that the black male has had with the United States. This relationship of the abuser and abused has transmigrated from the original source of the strife and now onto others who look like the abused, then turning the abused into the subdued. On two fronts, the black male has been subdued. The conversation has to happen now as to how it can be undone. Accidentally on purpose, by way of the psychological dismantling of the supposed unity through intensifying the African American man's self doubt, the black male does not allow other black males to partake in any part of societal adaptation that deviates from what we have been taught it means to be us. Weaponized in the most strictest sense, the black male has become an agent of restriction. A restriction that comes not in the form of physical shackles but in the form of idealogical ones. Adaptation in the sense of functionality and expression of the self begins with the mind; being allowed to have very different ideas than what is the norm within the community. Like a Mexican standoff in a small dusty town, the black male, when met with ideas, concepts, and forms of expression which we have yet to understand, immediately labels it and the perpetrator as strange. 'Different' within the psyche of the black male is regarded as 'bizarre', especially and with near exclusivity when it derives from someone who looks like us. Like many, there is an inherent resistance to that which the black male does not know. The black male is not allowed to be ourselves or express our interests without being on the fringe of the community. Not saying that they don't exist already, but I imagine with a deep sense of sadness, the bevy of black males who could be talented novelists, filmmakers, speakers, philosophers, politicians, photographers and artists of all kinds if their environments permitted various forms of expression of self without crucifixion.

When speaking about Natural Selection and the environment, which naturally selects for the fitness of its hosts, it cannot be said lightly that the destructive potential of capitalism is felt most there more than anywhere else. Period. Competition to survive is the black male experience. It is of the upmost importance to realize that when Darwin wrote about fitness though, he wasn't speaking about it in the ways of the body, but in the ways of reproductive success but it is in the combination of in both the ways of the body and reproductive success where we can find the place where the black male hovers. The need to survive by any means is the nature of capitalism and it is tripled when we enter the environment that the black man inhabits. The need to survive both financially and in the literal sense takes form in a multitude of ways that I need not to describe to you in detailed specifics. A simple tour of your own imagination can paint the picture of what this survival looks like in inner cities and urban regions all across these very United States. Survival is key and when the aforementioned means of adaptation does not prescribe to the norms of the environment, then you get what we see now as far as our relationship to survival and expression and the hyper-masculinity that dominates our culture. But here is where the paradigm of blackness becomes more of an aloof representation. That is when the black male adapts to things outside of his original environment and the Great White Other takes a likening to the product of the adaptation. The Great White Other uses that adapted black example as a figurehead to define the black male as something that "can't be all that bad" because it adapted to processes that are familiar to them but foreign to everyone else in environment that the black male adapted from. Do you see the uniqueness? Then, the battle, not exclusive to the black male, begins to take shape in the form of perception and image. As we adapt to find our truest self in the face of the Great White Other, we have to make sure we make our brothers and sisters proud,, not allowed to veer too far away from the norm, though we already traveled ways away from it long ago. When we adapted and survived the environment, the intensity of the microscope increases. The necessity to stay true while keeping our actions in the pocket of African American correctness amplifies. Just look at the United States relationship towards black celebrity as opposed to the celebrity of other ethnic groups. Even that is microcosm of the uniqueness of the black experience. As far as perception is concerned, there is no winning that battle. 

Last to be touched on, but no less important: is the common descent from a common ancestry. Is there even any need for me to elaborate? It is self explanatory in a way, but I will still proceed to dissect the Darwinian concept using the black experience as a conduit or to be truthful, maybe its the other way around. Nonetheless, I foresee a time when we as the black male connect to one another thoroughly through the deeply profound realization that we all come from the same source, which will allow us to unite with all peoples in order to build a firm community on a equal plain. In the senses of economic, political, and in that communal sense, nearly every other ethnic group; Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, and many more, collaborate to put forth a unified coalition in those various aforementioned forms of connection in a multitude of intersectional ways. I look forward to the day where the black male looks toward their long storied lineage beyond the span of their battled history with the United States for comfort. It cannot be denied, that within the span of the confrontational relationship between the United States and the black male; from our moments of pride and triumph, from Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, from Marcus Garvey to Denmark Vesey, from Nat Turner to Lebron James, and many more in between, all instances where we hail our personal heroes, stem from a place of societal strife they arose from, coupled along with some form oppression birthed from the environmental pressures of the need to see tomorrow and the need to adapt . This is our history. For every black male being born from the womb of a black queen, the power coming from such a realization should allow all brothers of the same hue to establish a profound unity. I fervently believe, that the unity within the United States that we seek across all ethnic lines can only come when the black male realizes our own full potential. We are the linch pin to American longevity. They need us more than we need them. Adapt young man, adapt, However you see it necessary, you must adapt and allow the people that look like you the chance to be themselves fully realized. Adapt young man, adapt. Be aware of your environment and avoid the pitfalls that many people who look like you have fallen into in the past. Adapt young man, adapt. be smarter than the system that has been pitting us against one another since before even your father was born. 

Adapt young man, adapt.

The most important thing about anything I have said here today is that Charles Darwin was taught by John Edmonstone; a black man and former slave.

Thank you.

[theludwigproject]

Los Angeles was suffocating me. This suffocation was not the product of the city’s notoriously noxious air quality, but when Lily suggested we go to Oregon for the weekend, the promise of breaths filtered by evergreen trees was enticing. My suffocation came, in fact, from the restrictions of urban life. In the city, there are so many people and so many ways one is expected to please them. I have to dress well, all the time. I have to be doing something, all the time. Ideally, to the city, I’m doing all of the things, all of the time, all at the same time. I’m expected to be online, all the time. Responsive. Restless. I wanted nothing more than to get off the grid. At some point, I turned my phone off, cutting the cord between me and the world, and the things the world demanded of me.

The drive up to Oregon was the freedom I longed for. See, there is no grid between cities, only in them. At least, that’s what I told myself. On the highway, there are no rules. Only generous speed limits, leniently enforced. Missing are the skyscrapers and the suit-wearing folks who inhabit them. For most of my road trip, I could almost trick myself into thinking there were no people existing in the stretch of emptiness between start and end, between city and other city. Of course, this couldn’t be true, and I was reminded of that whenever I stopped for gas or food, and demanded something of the world, of this world.

After a long 16 hours of driving, the scenes outside my car window faded from bucolic back to urban. We’d reached a destination: Eugene, Oregon. Our borrowed home was a box-shaped cottage, painted blue with white windows and nestled on emerald green grass. It was glimmering and moist thanks to Oregon rain. Past the front door, a welcome mat perks itself up at me from down on the floor. Its bristled face is so bright and clean, I’m hesitant to step on it.

The place is spotless, but not too spotless. It’s got the type of effortless charm that could only be achieved by putting in enormous amounts of effort. It felt palatial, even in its coziness. I realize eventually, that the home is an art gallery: curated like a museum, and yet there is something I am being sold.

In the first corner of the room stands a tall wooden bookcase artisanally built from aged mahogany. The bookcase is a boastful thing. Unlike the cupboards and the closets, the bookcase insists on telling you what it holds, without you bothering to ask. The names of mostly old white men are lined up beside each other in neat rows on its top shelves: Faulkner next to Kerouac next to Bukowski next to Joyce, next to Delillo. On the second shelf, a record player, shiny and new. Probably built in the last year. Under the record player, a quieter, shyer shelf whispered its humble music collection The names of African American musicians, leaning against one another, chipping away from the spines of distressed jazz record sleeves: Duke Elingt__ next to Nin_ Sim___ next to Otis Red____ next to Nat King Cole.

There is no television. Instead, large windows let in overcast light and are speckled in decorative beads of water dancing about from the torrent outside. Sitting low and seductive in the diffuse light, a mid-century modern couch. Its pillows take to a sunken posture, as if the couch were sitting in its own smooth maroon leather, inviting me to do the same. Against almost every wall, sits or hangs some piece of verdant shrubbery. First, stood out the Fiddle Leaf Fig tree in the second corner of the room. Its leaves were bright green and took the form of inverted hearts on their stems. Second was the luscious Monstera plant. Perched in a white ceramic pot, the Monstera held out an abundance of leaves. Most of them were a deep green color with porous holes in them like swiss cheese, to indicate their maturity. Some of the leaves, however, were just beginning to sprout, colored in a pale virgin green, wrapped tight, just ready to unfurl.

Though I don’t quite know what I came here for, I know it was for something foreign, and this space is all too familiar. It follows every design rule rigidly, religiously. The aesthetic bibles– Kinfolk, Architectural Digest, Dwell Magazine– spread out loudly like commandments on the coffee table, made of a reclaimed wood with copper accents. Perhaps made of the same tree, or from wood reclaimed around the same time, the dining table stood powerfully against a backdrop of exposed brick. The table was adorned with white flowers in a tall, sleek vase, and it was hedged by four white Eames chairs, squared out perfectly on every edge.

I feel at home here, and thus, I feel betrayed. The promise of travel is to get away from one’s home, and maybe for me, to get away from oneself. I should have known better. On AirBnB’s website, most offerings look the same. Hosts all follow the same design etiquette, decorating their homes with our demands in mind. Hell, it’s in their very ad copy: “With Airbnb, you're no longer a traveler, you're home.”

[thebewisepodcast]

Copy of Adapt,Young Man, Adapt: A Speech To All Black Men

Without a doubt within the fires of my mind, to this date and seemingly until the end of time, the black male has had and always will have the most unique experience in the history of these United States and beyond. A bold claim that I have no problems at all placing a stake in.

Before any form of opposition arises in the mind, that particular statement is not intended to lessen or cheapen the experiences of any different section of people within this country, but without question if the black male experience is not the MOST unique, it can be argued to be atop the list in some capacity. This here idea was not born to argue the individual harshnesses of each particular struggle. This here is not an argument about which section of people has had it the worst, or is the most oppressed as these United States seem to have a fond history of inflicting oppression upon her people. It can't be ignored though, you will all make the conscious choice to either allow these words to enter your spirit or deny them wholeheartedly. And no matter the path your mind takes, I accept it. So, if I may say to you all, adapt.

I would be remiss if I dared to talk about adaptation and did not even attempt to mention European scientist: Charles Darwin. Western civilization swarmed around Darwin's theories almost immediately as they took fire in the heart and minds of intellectuals all over the globe. Charles Darwin heralded the groundbreaking text, "On the Origin of Species". Published in 1859, Darwin puts forth his theory of biological evolution. For those who know or those who don't know, Darwin laid down the foundation for adaptation, natural selection as well as common descent of species from a common ancestry. What needs to be understood foremost is that these scientific processes have existed from before the dawn of time and did not originate in 1859. Darwin just placed the terminology to the processes. That is key. But in relation to the black male, what do these come to mean? It means that the black man within the confines of the United States prism, is separate from ALL three of these fundamental keys to evolution as it is equated to functionality and expression of self as opposed to evolutionary biology. 

In vain of those three elements of Darwin's theory, the uniqueness of the black experience stems directly from the lack of the opportunity to healthily adapt, being products of an environment (United States) which relentlessly prompts all citizens to survive by any means, and being denied access to recognizing and constructing a community attachment by way of a recognized common ancestry. The original source of where those strifes comes from is not directly the fault of the black male, but is the result of tumultuous relationship of abuse that the black male has had with the United States. This relationship of the abuser and abused has transmigrated from the original source of the strife and now onto others who look like the abused, then turning the abused into the subdued. On two fronts, the black male has been subdued. The conversation has to happen now as to how it can be undone. Accidentally on purpose, by way of the psychological dismantling of the supposed unity through intensifying the African American man's self doubt, the black male does not allow other black males to partake in any part of societal adaptation that deviates from what we have been taught it means to be us. Weaponized in the most strictest sense, the black male has become an agent of restriction. A restriction that comes not in the form of physical shackles but in the form of idealogical ones. Adaptation in the sense of functionality and expression of the self begins with the mind; being allowed to have very different ideas than what is the norm within the community. Like a Mexican standoff in a small dusty town, the black male, when met with ideas, concepts, and forms of expression which we have yet to understand, immediately labels it and the perpetrator as strange. 'Different' within the psyche of the black male is regarded as 'bizarre', especially and with near exclusivity when it derives from someone who looks like us. Like many, there is an inherent resistance to that which the black male does not know. The black male is not allowed to be ourselves or express our interests without being on the fringe of the community. Not saying that they don't exist already, but I imagine with a deep sense of sadness, the bevy of black males who could be talented novelists, filmmakers, speakers, philosophers, politicians, photographers and artists of all kinds if their environments permitted various forms of expression of self without crucifixion.

When speaking about Natural Selection and the environment, which naturally selects for the fitness of its hosts, it cannot be said lightly that the destructive potential of capitalism is felt most there more than anywhere else. Period. Competition to survive is the black male experience. It is of the upmost importance to realize that when Darwin wrote about fitness though, he wasn't speaking about it in the ways of the body, but in the ways of reproductive success but it is in the combination of in both the ways of the body and reproductive success where we can find the place where the black male hovers. The need to survive by any means is the nature of capitalism and it is tripled when we enter the environment that the black man inhabits. The need to survive both financially and in the literal sense takes form in a multitude of ways that I need not to describe to you in detailed specifics. A simple tour of your own imagination can paint the picture of what this survival looks like in inner cities and urban regions all across these very United States. Survival is key and when the aforementioned means of adaptation does not prescribe to the norms of the environment, then you get what we see now as far as our relationship to survival and expression and the hyper-masculinity that dominates our culture. But here is where the paradigm of blackness becomes more of an aloof representation. That is when the black male adapts to things outside of his original environment and the Great White Other takes a likening to the product of the adaptation. The Great White Other uses that adapted black example as a figurehead to define the black male as something that "can't be all that bad" because it adapted to processes that are familiar to them but foreign to everyone else in environment that the black male adapted from. Do you see the uniqueness? Then, the battle, not exclusive to the black male, begins to take shape in the form of perception and image. As we adapt to find our truest self in the face of the Great White Other, we have to make sure we make our brothers and sisters proud,, not allowed to veer too far away from the norm, though we already traveled ways away from it long ago. When we adapted and survived the environment, the intensity of the microscope increases. The necessity to stay true while keeping our actions in the pocket of African American correctness amplifies. Just look at the United States relationship towards black celebrity as opposed to the celebrity of other ethnic groups. Even that is microcosm of the uniqueness of the black experience. As far as perception is concerned, there is no winning that battle. 

Last to be touched on, but no less important: is the common descent from a common ancestry. Is there even any need for me to elaborate? It is self explanatory in a way, but I will still proceed to dissect the Darwinian concept using the black experience as a conduit or to be truthful, maybe its the other way around. Nonetheless, I foresee a time when we as the black male connect to one another thoroughly through the deeply profound realization that we all come from the same source, which will allow us to unite with all peoples in order to build a firm community on a equal plain. In the senses of economic, political, and in that communal sense, nearly every other ethnic group; Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, and many more, collaborate to put forth a unified coalition in those various aforementioned forms of connection in a multitude of intersectional ways. I look forward to the day where the black male looks toward their long storied lineage beyond the span of their battled history with the United States for comfort. It cannot be denied, that within the span of the confrontational relationship between the United States and the black male; from our moments of pride and triumph, from Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, from Marcus Garvey to Denmark Vesey, from Nat Turner to Lebron James, and many more in between, all instances where we hail our personal heroes, stem from a place of societal strife they arose from, coupled along with some form oppression birthed from the environmental pressures of the need to see tomorrow and the need to adapt . This is our history. For every black male being born from the womb of a black queen, the power coming from such a realization should allow all brothers of the same hue to establish a profound unity. I fervently believe, that the unity within the United States that we seek across all ethnic lines can only come when the black male realizes our own full potential. We are the linch pin to American longevity. They need us more than we need them. Adapt, young man, adapt, However you see it necessary, you must adapt and allow the people that look like you the chance to be themselves fully realized. Adapt, young man, adapt. Be aware of your environment and avoid the pitfalls that many people who look like you have fallen into in the past. Adapt, young man, adapt. be smarter than the system that has been pitting us against one another since before even your father was born. 

Adapt, young man, adapt.

The most important thing about anything I have said here today is that Charles Darwin was taught by John Edmonstone; a black man and former slave.

Thank you.