#this program is slightly a nightmare but i will get used to it... i will brave it for such nice textures

[fudgecake-charlie]

"rebelle painter has an in depth brush engine to simulate traditional painting techniques" is all well and good until you only use your digital painting method. at least the impasto is really pretty

[itendtothinkalot]

the checklist

summary: beomgyu swore he'd never get into a relationship. it’s cringe, it’s stupid. but when he starts getting nervous and flustered around you, his best friend huening kai creates a checklist to figure out if he’s into you.

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 5.1k

warnings:

a/n: im glad txt's hvg rest but oh i do miss them <3<33

Beomgyu was baffled. Relationships? Love? Please. He’d never been in one, much less fallen for anyone before. The whole concept of being in love sounded like a scam to him—a nightmare wrapped in pink ribbons. The idea of dating someone was even worse. What, he’s supposed to shower them with constant attention? What is this? A puppy adoption program? A full-time babysitting gig? No, thanks.

Every time his friends gushed about their latest romantic escapades—"Oh, we’re going to this cute little café together!" or "We stayed up all night just talking!"—Beomgyu would roll his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. He didn’t get it. Why would anyone willingly sign up for this chaos?

But then, you happened. And suddenly, Beomgyu found himself staring at his reflection, wondering when the hell he became one of those people.

“Kai.” Beomgyu tapped his friend's shoulder insistently, desperate for some sort of wisdom. “Kai!” He repeated, louder this time, when his friend blatantly ignored him.

Kai sighed dramatically, pulling off his headphones with the kind of irritation reserved for someone whose game was going so well. “Beomgyu, I’m literally in the middle of a match. Can this wait?”

“Sure,” Beomgyu replied with an unusually calm nod, flopping onto Kai’s bed and staring at the ceiling like he’d just been hit by an existential crisis.

That’s when Kai froze. Something wasn’t right. Beomgyu wasn’t whining, nagging, or hovering over his screen like a bratty sibling waiting for their turn to play. This was weird. Alarm bells went off in Kai’s head.

“Wait…” Kai spun around, yanking his headphones off completely. “You’re not being annoying? You’re not rushing me? What the hell happened?” He plopped down next to Beomgyu, who looked suspiciously… deflated. “Okay, who hurt you?”

“No one.” Beomgyu sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. “I was just… thinking.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “You think?”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes and flicked Kai’s forehead without hesitation. “Occasionally. Yes. Shocking, I know.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kai said, rubbing his forehead with a smirk. “Continue.”

Beomgyu hesitated, then sat up slightly, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… you see… there’s this girl.”

Kai’s eyes lit up, his tone immediately shifting from curious to obnoxiously teasing. “Ooooh, a girl, huh?”

“Shut up.” Beomgyu groaned, shoving him lightly. “It’s not even like that. I don’t like her like that. Or vice versa. Or—whatever. It’s complicated.” He sighed again, the weight of his confusion palpable.

Kai leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin. “You sound real upset for someone who doesn’t care.”

“Can you just listen to me for once? Please!” Beomgyu groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, fine! I’m sorry!” Kai held his hands up defensively. “I’m listening now. Go ahead, Romeo.”

“Thank you.” Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So… there’s this girl.”

Kai smirked. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Beomgyu shot him a warning glare before continuing. “She’s new at the café. Yeonjun told me to, y’know, mentor her on the drinks. So, I’ve been doing that. It’s been a couple of weeks, and, well… she’s just this normal girl. She’s studying at the same school as us, but I think she’s in a different building.”

Kai tilted his head, squinting. “Right. A totally normal girl who you’ve been thinking about so much, she’s made you think.”

Beomgyu let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “And lately… I don’t know. Yeonjun’s been putting our schedules together, and I… I don’t know how to feel about it. Like, all I know is I like working with her. I enjoy being around her. But I hate what this feeling is doing to me. It’s like—what’s the word—annoying.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, leaning back smugly. “Not gonna lie, Beomgyu, it sounds a lot like you kinda… like her.”

“That’s impossible.” Beomgyu threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t like anyone. I don’t want to be in a relationship. You know me! I couldn't care less about dating, romance, or whatever nonsense everyone seems obsessed with.”

——

One Month Ago

“And of course, this is Beomgyu,” Yeonjun said with a teasing smirk as he gestured to the tall, ridiculously attractive guy standing in front of you. “Do not be charmed by his good looks—he’s not interested in anyone. Except himself, of course.”

You blinked, gulping down the sudden lump in your throat. Okay, Yeonjun wasn’t lying—this guy was good-looking. Too good-looking. Like, unfairly good-looking. But "off-limits"? Perfect. You weren’t exactly in the market for romance anyway, not with your recent breakup looming over your head like a bad rom-com cliché.

This job was supposed to be your escape—a way to distract yourself from your ex and maybe stop scraping together couch change for instant ramen. A few shifts, some good times, and some side cash—easy, right? Except now, you were standing face-to-face with someone who looked like he belonged on a billboard instead of behind a café counter.

It would be fine. Totally fine. You weren’t interested in him. And according to Yeonjun, he wasn’t interested in anyone. Which meant you had nothing to worry about. Right?

“Hey!” you said with a small smile, offering it to the brooding guy standing before you. But instead of the moody half-nod you were expecting, he returned your smile—a sweet, disarming one that completely threw you off.

Well. Scratch “emo” off your presumptuous first impressions.

“Y’know,” you said, tilting your head curiously, “you look super familiar. Are you from the university across the street?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your question. He nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah! Have you seen me around?”

“No,” you said, grinning as you delivered the punchline, “but I’ve seen the posters…”

Ah, the posters. A wave of embarrassment immediately washed over Beomgyu. Back in his first year, he’d been strong-armed recruited by the university’s marketing team to pose for promotional posters plastered around campus. At the time, the promise of a couple hundred bucks had been too tempting for a broke freshman to pass up. But now? Those same posters felt like his own personal humiliation tour.

“Oh. Those posters,” he mumbled, cheeks reddening as he scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Darn things…”

You laughed—a sweet, melodic sound that tugged at something unfamiliar in his chest. “It’s okay! They turned out great.”

And just like that, you walked away, following Yeonjun into the staff pantry, completely unaware of the tiny earthquake you’d just triggered in Beomgyu’s world.

He stood frozen in place, replaying the interaction in his head. The way your eyes lit up when you spoke to him, like you’d known each other forever. The way your laugh lingered in his ears, soft and warm. The way your hair bounced as you walked, catching the light in a way that felt almost cinematic.

Beautiful. That was the only word his brain could come up with. You were beautiful—too much for him to process, let alone admit. And it wasn’t just how you looked. It was the ease, the effortless charm you carried, like you’d just walked into his life to flip it upside down.

It hit him like a punch to the gut: if he did have a type, you would be it. Except…

He didn’t have a type. He didn’t want a type. He didn’t want to date anyone. Absolutely not.

So why was his heart doing cartwheels in his chest?

——

Present

“You literally like her,” Huening Kai groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it looked like they might stay that way. “Dude, you’re just in denial at this point.”

“I don’t like her!” Beomgyu shot back, glaring daggers at his best friend, hands clenched, this close to shoving Kai off the bed.

“Okay,” Kai said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Then let’s do a quick little checklist, shall we?”

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“How do you feel when she’s this—” Kai leaned in obnoxiously close, practically nose-to-nose with Beomgyu, “—close to you?”

“Uh…” Beomgyu faltered, his face heating up faster than he could come up with a retort.

——

2 Weeks Ago

“Beom, can you pass me the sugar, please?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Standing almost two heads taller than you, Beomgyu had become your unofficial ladder. Need something on a high shelf? Just call Beomgyu. And honestly? He didn’t seem to mind.

Working with him was surprisingly easy. Too easy, actually. Everyone said earning money was tough, but when Beomgyu was around, the shifts flew by, lighthearted banter here and there, and the occasional spilled drink, it was just like kindergarten. 

“Beom?” Beomgyu blinked at the nickname, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You’d only started calling him that a few days ago, but hearing it felt… weirdly nice.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the sugar. “Just don’t drop it like last time.”

“Hey!” You protested, pouting. “That’s unfair. If I recall correctly, you made me laugh, and that’s why I dropped it. So technically, it was your fault.”

“Oh, so now being charming and funny is my fault?” Beomgyu quipped, a teasing smirk dancing on his face.

“Yes,” you said with a playful nod. “But also, thank you for taking the blame for me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, handing the sugar container to you. “It's not like Yeonjun can fire me. He needs me more than he thinks.”

Just as you reached for the sugar, your hand brushed against his. It was brief—barely a second—but it sent a jolt through Beomgyu like he’d grabbed a live wire. His grip faltered, and the container slipped from his hands.

“Beomgyu!” you laughed, not realizing that the simple touch had completely short-circuited him.

He mumbled an apology, crouching to pick up the container, but his mind was still reeling. Why was his heart suddenly pounding? Why couldn’t he stop staring at the way your smile lit up the entire room?

You. Your hands brushing against his. Your laugh ringing in his ears. Your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze just a second longer than necessary.

Perfection.

And he hated it. Absolutely hated it. Because it made him feel things he swore he’d never feel. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth was painfully obvious.

He was in trouble.

——

Present

“It feels… funny,” Beomgyu muttered, struggling to find the right word. But even as he said it, he knew "funny" didn’t even come close to describing what you did to him.

“Funny?” Huening Kai snorted with laughter. “That’s the best you can do? Alright, let’s get into the details. Do you ever... get nervous around her?”

“Does the feeling of needing to take a shit every time she’s near me count?” Beomgyu asked, his brain still scrambling for the right words.

Kai slapped his forehead, groaning. “You’re hopeless.”

——

1.5 Weeks Ago

For the past week, Beomgyu had been stuck opening the café. Normally, Yeonjun handled mornings, but some emergency had left Beomgyu in charge. He hated the added responsibility. But if he was being honest—though he’d never admit it—it also gave him an excuse to tweak the schedule so that your shifts overlapped with his. Taehyun would be okay with working late shifts for 2 weeks, right?

This morning, he found himself nervously fidgeting in front of the shiny coffee machine, using its reflection as a makeshift mirror. Was his hair okay? Maybe the little bit of gel he’d added was too much. Should he spritz on more cologne? No, too obvious.

The café was quiet, only a handful of early-morning customers scattered across tables. The clock ticked toward 9 a.m., and Beomgyu felt his heart rate pick up. Any second now.

And then the door chimed.

“Morning, Beomie!” you called cheerfully, your voice like sunshine cutting through the morning haze.

Beomgyu froze, his breath hitching as he turned to see you. You were radiant. Effortlessly glowing, even in your simple two-piece outfit that hugged you just right. Your smile was enough to knock the wind out of him.

“M-Morning!” he stammered, barely able to string two words together.

You cocked your head at him, a giggle escaping your lips. “You alright there?”

Walking over to the counter, you placed your bag down and grabbed the apron you’d left the night before. Without hesitation, you slipped it on and turned toward him, pulling the strings into your hands.

“Can you help me tie this?”

Beomgyu nodded stiffly, stepping closer. His fingers fumbled with the strings, brushing against the soft skin of your lower back. His heart skipped a beat. Why did she have to wear a crop top today? he thought miserably, trying not to combust on the spot. The warmth of your skin sent shivers racing up his spine.

“Thanks!” you chirped, spinning around to face him. But your brows furrowed as you studied him more closely.

“Gosh, Beomie, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, leaning in and placing your hands gently on his forehead as if checking for a fever.

The sudden closeness made Beomgyu’s brain short-circuit. His knees felt weak, and his entire body betrayed him, a blush creeping up his neck.

“I—uh—I gotta use the washroom,” he blurted, stepping back awkwardly. “Be right back.”

And before you could respond, he was gone, leaving you to shake your head with an amused smile. Meanwhile, in the restroom, Beomgyu leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. But deep down, he already knew the answer.

——

Present

“I hate to break it to you,” Huening Kai said, deadpan, “but that literally sounds like you’re in love with her.”

“No! It can’t be that. I’m probably just… sick,” Beomgyu stammered, shaking his head as if that would banish the thought.

Kai raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, so you’re only ‘sick’ when she’s around? Sure, Beomgyu. Totally normal. You’re absolutely fine.” He rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.

“I shouldn’t have asked you,” Beomgyu muttered. “Should’ve gone to Soobin. He’s less… devilish.”

Kai smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Oh yeah, Soobin. Because he’d totally never make fun of you. Not at all.”

“You’re right. I need to make new friends.” Beomgyu stood up abruptly, pretending to walk away.

Kai grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Aww, come on! Don’t be like that. I’m serious. I’m here to help. I can do this, I swear.”

“Kai,” Beomgyu groaned, “I think we should just call it a day.”

“No!” Kai exclaimed, holding up a finger like he’d just cracked the Da Vinci Code. “We’re this close. Once you admit whatever it is you’re avoiding, life will be so much easier. Trust me. I can see the future.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Just answer me one last final question.”

“What?”

“Does your heart… race? When you’re with her?”

——

2 Days Ago

“Choi Yeonjun, you stupid little shit,” Beomgyu muttered under his breath, blowing into his hands to keep warm. Sending him and you to run errands in the middle of winter felt like some kind of cruel prank.

Next to him, you were bundled up in a cozy puffer jacket, scarf, and beanie, your nose red from the cold. Beomgyu had to bite back a grin. You looked like the cutest Pop Mart figurine he’d ever seen.

You pouted, your breath visible in the freezing air. “Why couldn’t Yeonjun be more accurate with the timing? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Beomgyu crossed his arms, scowling. “I’m killing him later.”

You shook your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Or… we could always take revenge.”

Beomgyu’s brows lifted. “Oh, my sweet genius. How?”

You grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “We can replace all the coffee beans in the grinder with decaf tomorrow morning. Let’s see how Yeonjun functions without caffeine.”

Beomgyu blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re dangerous. I didn’t realize you were as devious as you are adorable.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, but you didn’t seem to notice. You just smiled, giggling. “I got it from my mom.”

He laughed along with you, his heart feeling lighter despite the cold.

“Gosh, is it coming yet?” you sighed, your voice trembling. The icy air seemed to suck all the energy from your words.

“Yeonjun said it’ll be here around 3:15,” Beomgyu replied, glancing at his watch. “So… about ten more minutes.”

You groaned, shivering as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “O-okay.”

“Hold on.”

You blinked, watching as Beomgyu walked away without explanation. Confused but not wanting to leave in case the truck arrived, you stayed put, hopping in place to keep warm.

A few minutes later, Beomgyu returned, holding two steaming, foil-wrapped sweet potatoes.

“Here,” he said, handing one to you.

Your face lit up, your smile bright despite the cold. You pressed the warm sweet potato to your face, sighing in relief. “I can’t feel my face.”

Beomgyu chuckled, stepping closer. “Here.” He pressed his own sweet potatoes against your cheeks, squishing them gently. “Better?”

You blinked up at him, your cheeks squished in his hands, making you look even more adorable.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop. Beomgyu’s heart pounded in his chest as the warmth of your skin and the softness of your smile hit him like a freight train.

Then you reached up, stopping him from pulling his hands away. “Aw, no, come on. Keep them there. I’m freezing.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks burned, and for once, he was grateful for the cold air, it gave him an excuse. But even as he tried to steady his breathing, he could feel it. His heart was racing faster than ever.

——

Present

“I have feelings for her, don’t I?”

Huening popped a chip into his mouth, “I hate to say it but I told you so.”

“Well, what do I do now?”

“You’ve gotta tell her. And after you do, let Soobin know that I’ve officially won the title of Beomgyu’s top best friend this month.”

“And how am I supposed to ask her?”

“Well, just a suggestion, but you could text her?”

“That’s not romantic!” Beomgyu deadpanned.

“Oh, sorry for trying to help. You’re the same guy who once swore he’d never, in a million years, tell a girl she looks pretty because apparently, that’s basically signing up to be chained to a cage like a love-struck animal.”

“That was the old me.”

Huening smirked, popping another chip into his mouth. “Sure, that’s the ‘old you,’ but the new you is in love with her.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, pacing around the room. “I don’t even know how to start.”

Huening leaned back, watching his best friend spiral. “Well, look at it this way: if you’re already thinking of telling her, you're in the right direction.”

“I want something memorable, you know?” Beomgyu muttered. “Something more… romantic. Something she won’t forget.”

Huening raised an eyebrow. “And you think a dramatic speech in the middle of the cafe is the answer?”

Beomgyu froze. “That... actually might work.”

“Wow, you really are whipped,” Huening said, sarcastically.

“I’m serious! I’ll walk in, tell her how I feel, and let her know how much she means to me. I’m going all in, no holding back,” Beomgyu said, determination lighting up his face.

Huening sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “Alright, but just so you know, you asked me for help. And when she swoons, don’t forget to tell Soobin I won the ‘Best Friend of the Month’ award.”

Beomgyu shot him a deadpan look. “I’ll make it happen. Thanks, Best Friend.”

“Could I get that in writing? You know, so Soobin doesn’t think I’m just making stuff up.”

Beomgyu’s heart pounded in his chest as he thought about it. Texting was out of the question. He’d have to make his feelings known the right way—face-to-face, just like in the movies. He was ready for this.

——

"Okay. You’ve got this, Beomgyu," he muttered to himself, giving himself a thumbs-up. "Just say something smooth... something charming. You’re Beomgyu, the irresistible coffee god. You can do this."

He looked around, making sure no one was watching, then smiled at his reflection in the window.

“Hey, I think you’re really cool, and I like you. Wait—no, that’s too casual. Let me try again.”

He put a hand to his chin dramatically, thinking for a moment.

"How about… ‘I think you're the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I can’t stop thinking about you.’" He immediately cringed. "Nope, nope. That sounds fucking disgusting."

Just as he was about to try again, a voice from behind him interrupted.

“Dude, just go in,” Yeonjun said, raising an eyebrow as he walked up. He'd been watching from across the street for the past ten minutes, taking in Beomgyu's solo performance with mild amusement (and taking a couple of short videos to fill his stories with).

“Yeonjun! What the hell? You scared me!” Beomgyu jumped, heart leaping into his throat.

“Stop talking to yourself like a loser and just go in already. You’re getting weird looks from the store across us," Yeonjun scoffed. “Also, I’m pretty sure the entire neighborhood has seen your failed rehearsals by now.”

Beomgyu grimaced. “I just don’t want to mess it up, okay? I need to make it perfect.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “You’ve been here for 20 minutes and the only thing you’ve perfected is looking like a robber who's about to rob MY café. Get it together. It’s just a confession. You’re fine, she’s into you. Go!”

Beomgyu shot him a glare. “I’m not a robber, Yeonjun. I’m a man with feelings... and a very fragile ego.”

“Oh, please,” Yeonjun chuckled, pushing him toward the door. “If I had a dollar for every time someone said they were ‘fragile’ before a confession, I could buy this entire block. Just go in there and stop making it a bigger deal than it is.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, then turned to face the door of Junnie’s, which was now just a few steps away. He took a deep breath and shot Yeonjun a look that screamed ‘I’m regretting this already.’

“You’re really doing this,” Yeonjun said, an exaggerated smirk on his face. “Alright, Beomie, go make history.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Beomgyu sighed, taking a step toward the door. “I’m going... but if I faint in there, you’re taking the blame.”

With a last nervous glance at Yeonjun, Beomgyu shoved the door open. The bell above it jingled as he walked in, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and that's when he found you behind the counter, waiting.

“Welcome to Junnie’s! How may I help you—Beomgyu? What are you doing here today?” you laughed, wiping your hands on your apron as you looked up from behind the counter.

Beomgyu leaned against the counter with a grin that could melt the coldest of hearts. “I came here to see you.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. His hands were twitching like he was about to do a dance routine.

“Should I be on my break for this?” you asked, genuinely puzzled.

Beomgyu shook his head quickly, as if trying to shake off his nerves. “No, no. It’ll be quick. I think. Probably.”

You chuckled, unable to hide your confusion. “Okay, you’re acting like you’re about to tell me you robbed a bank or something. Is everything alright?”

Beomgyu froze for a second, his eyes wide. “I'm getting rid of this stupid black beanie tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, sighing.

Getting called a robber for the second time today wasn’t exactly on his to-do list.

“Then why are you sweating?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not sweating!” he replied, wiping his hands on his pants—clearly in denial. “Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” You genuinely didn’t understand, your head tilting to the side in bewilderment. “You’ve literally seen me like... a hundred times.”

“I just—” Beomgyu paused, and the silence between you two felt like forever. “Okay, maybe more than a hundred... but—”

“So, you’ve been nervous about seeing me a hundred times?” you asked, trying to piece it together.

“Definitely not,” Beomgyu said quickly, then muttered, “Well, kind of...”

“Okay, I’m lost,” you said, eyes wide, still trying to figure out why he was so flustered.

Beomgyu nodded, “Well…this is gonna be awkward, and I’m not really sure how to do this or what I’m supposed to say because I don’t want to ruin things between us—but, well, here it is.”

You immediately put your hands up, practically begging for mercy. “Oh, no, please don’t say it. Don’t say you’re not interested in me or anything like that, please.”

Beomgyu froze, looking absolutely panicked. “Huh?”

“Listen,” you said, starting to pace behind the counter like you were preparing for some dramatic monologue. “If you’re going to let me down easy, you don’t have to say anything. I know you’re not really into relationships, and I totally get it, okay? You’re the independent type. I respect that. Honestly, I wasn’t planning on doing anything crazy with my feelings. It’s all good, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Beomgyu’s face went from confused to deeply distressed. His eyes were wide, and his shoulders slumped as if someone had just stolen his favorite hoodie. “Wait, what? No! No, that’s not what I came here to say! I—”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms. “I mean, it’s okay. Yeonjun told me you weren’t interested in relationships. And hey, it’s fine. I’ll just stay in my lane and respect that you want to focus on… I don’t know… life, or being a free spirit or whatever. Like, I get it. I’m totally cool.”

Beomgyu blinked, frozen in place for a second, like you’d just dropped a bombshell on him. He quickly stepped forward, eyes wide with determination. “Hold on! That’s not— I’m not saying what you think!”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Really? Because I’m getting the vibe you’re not, you know, in the relationship market. Like, at all.”

He inhaled deeply, as if trying to muster all his courage to say the right thing. “I swear, I came all the way down here to tell you something completely different. Look, if I’m being honest, I… I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

Your jaw dropped. You were completely taken aback. “You… You like me?” you stammered, suddenly feeling all kinds of flustered.

Beomgyu nodded, looking at you like you were the most beautiful person in the entire world. “Yeah. I do. A lot. Like, so much that it’s kinda scary sometimes, but also really exciting. I’m not great with words and I’ve never been good at this, but… I want to try. I know I said that I’m not interested in relationships but I don’t know…with you it just seems easy. I like you. And I want to figure out whatever this is with you, if you’ll let me.”

There was a moment of silence, your heart racing from the sheer intensity of his words. And then, like a switch flipped, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Wow, so all this time I was thinking I had to keep my feelings to myself..”

Beomgyu flushed red, looking both nervous and utterly adorable. “Well…you’re different.”

You leaned across the counter, smiling, as you finally met his eyes. “So, wait… does this mean you’re actually asking me out? Like, for real?”

Beomgyu’s face lit up, nodding expectantly, “ Yes. I want to take you out. If you’ll let me.”

You grinned, your heart doing little flips. “Well, that’s a relief, because you’ve been driving me crazy. And I was starting to think I was gonna have to ask you out first. But of course, I wouldn’t, y’know, the whole off-the-market thing did catch me off guard at first.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well, a cute guy like you—who’s charming and funny—charms my ass off and apparently is off the market. Huge bummer, no?” You leaned forward slightly, making your playful tone even more obvious, but a hint of real affection crept through.

Beomgyu chuckled, his smile wide and warm. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m officially back on the market.”

Your smile widened even more. “Hopefully not for long,” you teased, winking at him. “I’m a go-getter.”

“Oh really?” Beomgyu’s grin was teasing as he leaned just a little bit closer, eyes locked with yours. “Weren’t you the one who just said you’d respect it if I wanted to be independent?”

Your chest tightened, the playful back-and-forth somehow turning into something more serious. “Do you?”

He took another step forward, practically in your personal space now. His voice softened, but the warmth in his eyes was undeniable. “Not if it means I can’t go out with you.” 

You felt the space between you both shrink with every second. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath just barely brushing your skin. The intensity of the moment wrapped around you both as your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes, unsure whether it was the right moment to do what he wanted to.

Then, just as Beomgyu’s hand was hovering almost instinctively near your arm, his head slightly tilting to get a better angle, the door to the café swung open with a sharp "ding!" and Yeonjun walked in, looking around casually until his eyes landed on the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Oh no, no, no,” Yeonjun groaned loudly, immediately striding over. “Beomgyu, you’re not even supposed to be here. It’s not your shift. You’re killing the vibe. Like, really killing it.” He grabbed Beomgyu by the shoulder and pulled him away, literally lifting him off the ground as if he were a rag doll. “C’mon, man. Move it. You’re ruining the whole romantic café ambiance with all this sexual tension. Get outta here.”

Beomgyu sputtered, his face going bright red. “I wasn’t— I mean, we were—”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you were doing,” Yeonjun interrupted, giving him a smirk. “And I’m putting an end to it before things get too heated in here. Don’t think I didn’t see those looks. You two are about two seconds away from having an impromptu makeout session right in front of all the customers.” He turned to you with a grin. “No offense, but you’re about to turn this café into something disgusting, and I can’t handle that right now.”

“There’s only one customer!” 

“And he has two eyes!” 

You tried to hide your grin but failed miserably as you watched Beomgyu attempt to protest while being dragged out. “Fine, fine, I’ll go,” Beomgyu grumbled. “But you’re not getting rid of me for good.” He shot you one last flirty smile before Yeonjun practically shoved him out the door.

You stood there, stunned and flustered, trying to regain your composure as the moment you thought might just happen slipped away. As Beomgyu’s laughter faded down the street, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. Yeonjun shot you an apologetic look. “I know, I know, I’m a buzzkill. But don’t worry. Knowing how annoying he is, he’ll probably be back in a couple of minutes.”

You shook your head, grinning despite yourself. “He’s lucky you stopped him, or I’d have kissed him right there.”

Yeonjun’s grin was full of mischief. “Why do you think I stopped the both of you?”

[regressionschool]

JOBLESS & JUVENILE: A NEW FUTURE FOR THE UNEMPLOYED?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

For decades, governments have struggled with rising unemployment. Now, in partnership with Pampers Corporation, a revolutionary solution has emerged—one that provides financial security, housing, and a structured daily routine for those out of work for extended periods.

The "Retraining & Relaxation Program" (RRP) is a bold new initiative that reimagines what it means to be unemployed. Rather than forcing job-seekers to endure endless applications, stress, and uncertainty, RRP offers them something better: a fresh start, free of adult burdens. Enrolled participants receive free housing, nutritious meals, and a basic income—but in exchange, they must embrace the Pampers lifestyle.

For some, it’s a dream come true. For others, it’s a nightmare.

"I Never Want to Grow Up Again!" – A Happy Little Student

At Sunny Steps Learning Center, one of the program's many Retraining Facilities, I meet Steve, 25, who has been enrolled in RRP for four months. The moment I step into the playroom, he rushes up to greet me, his Pampers crinkling loudly beneath his onesie as he bounces on his heels.

“Hi-hi, Miss Emily!” he chirps, his voice light and playful. “Didja come to play too?”

Steve, once a struggling software developer, no longer concerns himself with résumés, bills, or job interviews. Instead, his days are filled with storytime, snack breaks, and supervised play. He eagerly shows off his favorite toys, his plump diaper sagging slightly but still holding strong—a testament to Pampers’ renowned absorbency.

"I used to be sooo stressed all the time," he tells me, plopping onto a soft mat. "Always worried 'bout money, 'bout findin’ work. But now? I just get to be me! No worries, no hard stuff! Just nap, snack, and play!"

I ask if he ever thinks about returning to adulthood. He looks at me like I’ve suggested something completely absurd.

"Nooo way! Big-boy life was way too hard! I like my diapers, I like my nap times, and I LOVE snackies! Who’d wanna give that up?"

It’s difficult to argue with the enthusiasm in his voice, especially when he kicks his feet happily, completely unconcerned as his caretaker comes over to check his Pampers. The program has given him everything he needs—and taken away everything he doesn’t.

A Different Perspective: "I Don't Belong Here!"

Not everyone shares Steve’s enthusiasm. Dana, 29, is in the program as well, but she’s far from thrilled about it. She shifts uncomfortably on the bench where we meet for our interview, the thick pull-ups beneath her skirt crinkling softly with every movement.

"This is humiliating," she huffs, crossing her arms. "I had a career. I just hit a rough patch! How does that mean I should be treated like a preschooler?"

Unlike Steve, Dana is still classified as a “transition student”, meaning she hasn’t yet fully regressed. She is in the pull-up phase of the program—technically given some independence, but still under heavy supervision. She is required to ask permission for bathroom breaks, follow a strict bedtime, and participate in “learning activities” designed for early childhood development.

"I try to use the toilet whenever I can," she insists, glaring at the playroom around us. "But they’re always watching. They say ‘oopsies happen’ and that it’s okay to have accidents, but I don’t want to have accidents! I’m not a baby!"

Before I can respond, Dana suddenly tenses. A blush creeps up her face, and she quickly looks down, her hands clutching the bench. Seconds later, she gasps softly—a nearly inaudible whimper—as a warm, wet patch spreads across the front of her pull-up.

A nearby caretaker notices immediately. "Oh, Dana, honey," she coos, kneeling beside her. "That’s why we wear our special trainers, remember? Let’s get you all dry, sweetheart."

Dana's face burns with shame as she’s gently led away by the caretaker, a visible waddle in her step from the bulky, swollen pull-up sagging between her thighs.

"See? This is what I mean!" she cries, her voice cracking. "They’re MAKING me like this!"

But is she truly being "made" into anything? Or is she simply proving that some people, no matter how much they protest, aren’t quite as ready for adult responsibilities as they believe?

A Program with Results

As more participants enter the Retraining & Relaxation Program, the statistics speak for themselves. Over 97% of enrollees never return to the workforce, choosing instead to remain in the program permanently.

Psychologists point to reduced stress, structured care, and positive reinforcement as the key factors behind its success. Pampers’ high-quality, ultra-absorbent protection ensures that comfort and security are never a concern, allowing participants to focus solely on their retraining.

Despite some criticism, it’s clear that the RRP is achieving what traditional welfare programs never could—not just financial stability, but true, lasting contentment.

“Some people just aren’t built for the pressures of adult life,” says Dr. Amelia Brooks, a behavioral specialist working with the program. “And that’s okay. With the right care, they can live much happier, healthier lives without unnecessary stress.”

Perhaps the only question left is this: Is unemployment truly the problem? Or is adulthood itself?

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because some people were never meant to grow up.)

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 3.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I had someone on Ao3 ask me about how often this will get updated and my answer is that I don't know. My IRL can be pretty unpredictable and I do deal with depression on a daily basis. I'm going to do my best to update this while still working on my Leon Kennedy fic, Unlikely Salvation! Please do bear with me as I try to figure out where I want this story to go!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2

The lab was hustling with scientists, the Wakandan sunrise filtering through the enormous windows with an intensity that made Bucky eyes hurt as he stood by the cryostasis pod where the Winter Soldier would soon be housed.

The whole trek to the lab had been uneventful: not once did the soldier fight back. It seemed that the failure to complete her mysterious mission had caused her to shut down, and Bucky was tense as she was strapped down with multiple magnetic cuffs like the ones he and Steve used back in the quinjet.

Even with the super soldier serum coursing through her veins and whatever other enhancements she might naturally have or that HYDRA might have given her would prove useless. She was strapped down nice and tight.

There was a machine hovering over her knee, the tissue and bone beneath crunching and grinding as it was fusing back together, her expression unchanging despite her kneecap and patella being exposed. The air was beginning to smell of singed flesh and hair, and Bucky felt slightly nauseous.

Bucky hated knowing how much damage his arm could inflict; how unforgiving his grip was and how hard it was to regulate the strength at times so he would break yet another glass just by holding it and trying to take a drink.

And it had been so easy to crush her flesh like it was nothing.

"Howard? Howard, oh god...oh god, Anthony...!"

Bucky clenched his jaw, swallowing harshly as Maria Stark's voice whispered to him, and he was broken out of his trance by Shuri announcing.

"Once we are finished with her knee, I would like to begin deconstructing her mind. If efforts are fruitless, I would like for you to activate her again if possible. We might be able to figure out what her previous orders were and her intentions, history, anything that would prove useful to the eradication of HYDRA."

Steve frowned, asking as T'Challa simply stayed quiet, observing the Winter Soldier as she sat complacent and quiet; seemingly not hearing a word that they were saying.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? What if it doesn't work?"

Shuri replied confidently, flicking her eyes over to Steve before gesturing towards Bucky with a nod of her head.

"We will have to reset completely and start over. Sergeant Barnes' rehabilitation was easy due to the flaws within his programming that HYDRA was unable to remedy. However, we do not know what improvements have been made to HYDRA's algorithm since then. It will be challenging to separate the core person that this woman was before her programming, but not impossible."

T'Challa then asked, raising an eyebrow at Shuri as she shined a light into the Winter Soldier's eyes, taking down notes and recording her vitals.

"What if you are unable to separate the identity from the programming?"

Shuri sighed deeply, shrugging.

"She will have to be built from the ground up. This woman will be like a completely clean slate down to a new name if we are unable to figure out who she was before. I am already running the best biometric identification programs within our arsenal to figure out who she could have been. I would assume that Stark is also doing so?"

Steve nodded, replying as he watched the soldier closely as her eyes inconspicuously flicked to a scientist that readying a syringe.

"Yes, he's also got Nat looking through the database that we downloaded and coursing through any previous databanks we obtained from previous HYDRA raids."

Shuri then turned to Bucky, making him quirk an eyebrow up slightly as she regarded him with a raised brow.

"What is your take on this, Sergeant Barnes?"

All eyes were on him, and Bucky sighed slightly he stared down the soldier, watching the way her brow began to tense slightly the closer the scientist got. The second the syringe touched her skin, the soldier began to freak out.

Due to the cuffs restricting her movement, she resorted to smacking her back against the chair over and over, hissing and yelling loudly as the scientist jolted and stumbled back. T'Challa immediately shoved her down, Shuri exclaiming profanities as she snatched the syringe from the scientist and shoved it into the soldier's neck.

The soldier hissed and yanked her neck away, breaking the needle, and Shuri groaned, gesturing with her hands wildly.

"Really? Now I'm going to have to dig that out. You make things harder for yourself!"

Okoye quipped, her spear pointing towards the soldier as Steve and Bucky stood tensed and ready should the Soldier somehow get out of her binds.

"How primitive! She is like a wild animal!"

The sedative began to kick in, the woman's bucking gradually stopping, and she went limp within the chair, head rolling to the side as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. Bucky's heart was racing slightly with adrenaline, and Steve observed.

"Seems like she knew what the syringe meant."

T'Challa frowned deeply, leaning back and brushing his hands off slightly as he glanced back at Steve.

"An important but grave detail: she must be remembering...or perhaps, it is a recent memory."

Shuri plucked the broken needle from the soldier's neck, humming.

"I will take it as a good sign that there is at least someone beneath the rubble. I promise you, Mr. Rogers, that I will do my best to find her."

Steve nodded before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

"You going to be alright?"

Bucky glanced over at Steve, muttering truthfully.

"I don't want to do this, but I'm only doing it for you. I'm worried that she is going to somehow lead HYDRA to me and it's gonna be a shit-show all over again."

Steve was firm, declaring quietly.

"You know I wouldn't let that happen. I'd have to miss that big head of yours again."

"You're a goddamn punk, you know that?"

Bucky couldn't keep the smile from gracing the corners of his lips, and Steve smiled at him softly before hugging him firmly and backing away.

"Alright, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll check in periodically; let you all know what we find on our side of the world."

T'Challa hummed, walking towards Steve.

"I will accompany you. I would like to discuss some things before your departure."

Steve nodded, and the two men walked out of Shuri's lab. Bucky turned back around, making a slight face as Shuri cut away pieces of the woman's clothing, revealing a black and tight-fitting compression camisole.

There were numerous scars and marks all over her body, some jagged and unforgiving while others were clean and precise. Shuri hummed softly, muttering as her fingers grazed a jagged scar that ran beneath the woman's neck.

"The things this woman must have been through...HYDRA is truly despicable."

Bucky couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even think outside of the boiling hatred and rage that was beginning to consume him at the sight of the gruesome scars that covered her upper body. Bucky could only assume that it got worse beneath her uncut clothing, and he had to bite his tongue as hard as he could.

Whip scars, burn marks, mutilated flesh that never regenerated, her body was a canvas; a horrendous painting that HYDRA had taken delight in decorating. This was more than just punishment, it was a warning.

A warning that disobedience will not be tolerated.

How many times did they slash her throat for the scar to become so prominent? How many times did they burn her skin to the point that the serum couldn't work to regenerate? How often did they beat and prod and jab and shoot and stab at her until she was too weak to fight back?

In a morbid way, Bucky took it as a sign that despite her being activated and still dangerous, her history of resistance let HYDRA know that the person that used to be there still existed.

There was someone still underneath the rubble, as Shuri had put it, and Bucky hoped that Shuri could pull her out.

But even so, would it help? Would it be right to let this woman have to live with the memories and nightmares of what had happened to her? Was it right to subject her mind to the torture of HYDRA even after being rescued?

Was it right to try despite knowing how traumatized and desolated the woman was going to be once she was free? Hell, there were times were Bucky could still smell the scent of the cologne his Handler wore when punishing Bucky, and now Bucky couldn't stand to smell the scent without being pushed into a panic.

"Don't worry, White Wolf. I am going to do what I can to help this woman."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

His voice was choked, cracking slightly as he rushed to respond, and Shuri tilted her head at him, asking Bucky with a curious gaze.

"Then what is it that plagues you?"

"I just...is it right to do this when she's gonna have to live with the memories and the nightmares?"

Bucky felt ashamed by the frown that crossed Shuri's face, but was slightly relieved to know that the disappointment that flashed within her eyes was not directed at him.

"I understand the concern, and I understand that it will not be easy for her...but that is why you are here. You have survived HYDRA and are free of the programming they worked hard to instill within your mind. With living proof that persistence yields peace, I truly think that she may become a person again...it will just take time and a lot of work."

Bucky nodded, and Shuri was quiet for a moment before she murmured.

"While it may not seem fair to save her...it is truly a tragedy to deny her the chance that HYDRA never gave her."

The words left a profoundly bitter taste within Bucky's mouth, and he could distinctly taste copper from him biting into his cheek too hard. Shaking his head, Bucky looked away from the woman as Shuri began to assess her further.

"Reactivating her will come with a risk. I would only be able to activate her, but I don't have the knowledge to deactivate, if that's even possible. When I was activated...the longer I was out of cryostasis and hadn't been wiped, the easier it was to resist the programming. I don't know if it will be the same for her."

"As I said: reactivation will allow us the ability to communicate with her. She has not been wiped, it would seem, so it is possible that this woman knows something."

Shuri grabbed a butterfly needle and a vial, putting on gloves and tying a tourniquet around the woman's arm so that she could find a vein. Once she found it, Shuri inserted the butterfly needle, taping it to the soldier's skin.

"I am now going to collect bloodwork to run DNA diagnostics and input the data into the biometric identification program to see if we may be able to identify her this way. I'm also going to do some testing to see what serum she might have been injected with to trace it back to the creator."

Bucky nodded and sat back, watching and listening intently as Shuri described what she was doing and what the programs did on a deeper, intellectual manner. While Bucky was listening and trying to absorb the information, he couldn't stop glancing over at the scars that lined the woman's body.

Horrific couldn't even describe it. It made him sick to his stomach. If Shuri noticed that Bucky was slightly distracted, she gracefully didn't comment on it. Instead, Shuri tried to distract him the best that she could while the machine she was operating was taking a scan of the woman's brain.

After a moment, Shuri hummed, a perplexed look on her face as she sauntered around the hologram of the woman's brain, tendrils of red seeming to pulse all over the organ, and Shuri's brows furrowed as she thought to herself. Bucky asked with an intrigued look on his face.

"What is that?"

"This is a digital recreation of the woman's brain as well as the areas most affected by HYDRA's programming."

Shuri looked proud as she began to move the hologram around, zooming in and out of different areas and lobes before breaking it down into layers.

"Thanks to the work that I did for you, I was able to develop an AI that was capable of identifying HYDRA's programming, as well as detect the intensity and depth that it runs. It gives possible solutions and suggestions on what to work on first...and tells me when something activates the program."

Shuri's voice seemed to lower slightly, side-eyeing him for a moment before she looked back at the hologram, but Bucky didn't notice. Bucky was floored, in awe at the ingenuity of the AI that he couldn't help but to whistle lowly.

"That's incredible, Shuri."

"Please, compared to her, you were like a walk in the park."

Shuri waved him off before she hummed, pointing to a area that was largely red within the hologram.

"However, unlike your programming, her programming is much more complex. There are multiple layers where the programming intertwines with core pieces and memories, which will make unraveling the ties difficult. There might be parts of her that will not be salvageable."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head as he replied gently.

"Like you said: from the ground and up if needed."

Shuri smiled widely at Bucky, her eyes crinkling as she teased gently, pointing at him.

"See, now you are beginning to understand."

Bucky rolled his eyes before he asked as Shuri began to work, a screen popping up and flashing slightly.

"So, what is that?"

"If we are going to salvage as much as we can of the core person she was before she became a Winter Soldier, we will have to analyze every piece of her psyche. Unfortunately, I cannot do much with HYDRA's program basically firewalling me. It is like they added some sort of encryption to her so that any attempt of undoing their work would be unsuccessful or too risky."

Bucky tilted his head, becoming slightly confused as he pointed to the red parts of the woman's brain.

"Is that why those areas are red like that?"

"Yes. If you look closely, it is almost as though these red areas are wrapping around the parts that are otherwise untouched by HYDRA's program. If we can get past the encryptions, we might be able to get through."

Bucky nodded along, crossing his arms before he glanced down at the woman, asking apprehensively.

"Are you going to make me activate her?"

"For now, no. I do not think that it will be necessary. All I need to do is bypass the encryptions, break them down, and then I will begin to root out the memories with the most significance to her."

Shuri spared Bucky a glance, relaying to him honestly.

"If possible, I would like to keep you from doing so because of the mental repercussions activating her will have. I will entrust the process to Okoye if activation is the only option we have left."

Bucky shook his head, murmuring to Shuri as he glanced down at the woman again as her face scrunched slightly.

"No, I'll do it...let's just hope that I don't have to."

Shuri became quiet, staring Bucky down for a moment before she turned away and suggested.

"Perhaps you should see the Captain off. Breaking through the encryption will take time, and I can tell that you are starting to become brain-dead listening to me."

Bucky chuckled before bowing his head slightly, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not upset your brother by leaving you with her by yourself."

Shuri made a face at him, the expression reminding him of Steve pre-serum.

"Do you think I am not capable of defending myself? This is my territory, white boy."

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but I've been on the receiving end of your brother's foot."

Shuri barked out a laugh, and Okoye made her presence known by snorting while a couple of the Dora Milaje stood by the entrance to Shuri's lab.

"At least he knows what he would be up against. Do not worry, Sergeant Barnes, I will stand watch. The Captain is about to make his departure."

Bucky nodded before expressing his gratitude, nodding gently to Shuri.

"Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

Bucky turned and left quickly, his steps quick and urgent as he arrived outside. However, the quinjet was already flying away, making Bucky purse his lips. T'Challa's voice greeted him, making the man look over at the King as he spoke.

"You just missed him."

"He's always running off on me somehow, so I'm not entirely surprised."

T'Challa chuckled slightly, before he glanced over at Bucky.

"How are you feeling about all of this?"

Bucky glanced over at T'Challa, regarding him with an exhausted look before he turned back front, watching Steve leave again.

"I'm worried, honestly. There's so many things that could go wrong. What if HYDRA is trying to find me and was using her to do it? HYDRA must know that the Avengers have been raiding the old facilities that aren't in use anymore, so why not leave her to be found and taken in?"

T'Challa hummed, clasping his hands together as he replied.

"Let them try. They will not make it very far."

Bucky pursed his lips slightly before he murmured.

"It's...strange, honestly...seeing this from an outside perspective. I knew that this was serious, but I wasn't aware of how bad it actually was. Standing on the other side of the glass...it's almost poignant."

T'Challa nodded, replying with a hum.

"When my father was killed and I was under the assumption that it was you in Vienna, a deep hatred rooted within me for HYDRA. While I understand now that it was Zemo's schemes...that hatred for HYDRA has never wavered. Even now when knowing the dangers that lie beyond those doors, I still hope for peace."

Bucky was quiet, listening intently to T'Challa's words as the king spoke, his brown eyes downcast as he continued.

"Nobody deserves to be subjected to such horrific torture."

Bucky wasn't sure on how to respond. Instead, the man just nodded and took a moment to breathe before he settled, glancing over at T'Challa.

"You're right, and if we have to start from scratch, then I'm willing to help how I can...both with rehabilitating her and eradicating HYDRA once and for all."

T'Challa nodded quietly before turning to walk back towards the lab, suggesting over his shoulder.

"You should get some rest...and maybe put that on ice."

At the mention of the wound on his temple, it began to pulse, and Bucky just sighed.

"I'll sleep it off...and thank you for listening."

T'Challa didn't respond, but a smile graced the king's lips as he disappeared through the doors. Bucky's shoulders sagged slightly, and he rubbed his temple gently, wincing when he pressed down to hard.

He had to admit: that woman could give a mean right-hook.

-

STORY NOTES: Bucky, T'Challa, Steve, and Shuri are all within her lab with the Winter Soldier. So far, the Winter Soldier has made no move. Shuri is using a machine that heals and reconstructs the soldier's knee, and Bucky is perturbed by the damage he had inflicted. He reflects on the hardship it took to regulate the strength of his grip in his metal arm; reminiscing about the difficulty of clutching a glass of water.

Shuri then tells the group that she would like to begin deconstructing the Winter Soldier's mind to get an understanding of her intentions, and suggests activating the Winter Soldier again should Shuri's efforts fail. Steve is apprehensive, and Shuri voices that if neither efforts are successful, then she will have to completely reboot the Winter Soldier.

Shuri elaborates that she is currently attempting to figure out the identity of the Winter Soldier, and makes a remark that she hopes Tony Stark is also doing the same. Steve comments that Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, is also combing through the databank Bucky had downloaded, as well as previously recovered databanks.

When a scientist attempts to inject a sedative into her, the Winter Soldier begins to resist; causing a scene and consequently breaking the needle of the sedative within her neck. Steve observed that the woman understood what the syringe meant, and T'Challa points out that it might be a sign that she is remembering.

Before Steve's departure, Bucky voices his fear that HYDRA is using her to get to him, and Steve reassures Bucky that he won't let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Steve exits with T'Challa, and Bucky and Shuri are left alone within the lab. Shuri begins to remove a bit of the woman's clothing, and more scars are revealed.

Bucky becomes upset by the sight of the scars, understanding what they meant, and Bucky begins to become apprehensive about saving the woman. Shuri reassures Bucky that what they are doing is right. Later, Shuri shows Bucky a digital rendition of the Winter Soldier's brain and explains what she is going to do in order to save the woman's core identity.

Shuri comments that Bucky should see Steve off, and though Bucky tries to get to Steve before he leaves, he is unsuccessful. Instead, he meets with T'Challa. They begin to converse with each other, Bucky revealing his concerns, and T'Challa reassures him that HYDRA would not make it far into Wakanda if they attempted to retrieve him. Bucky makes a final thought on the woman and reflects on her strength. End scene.

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @tilldeathripsusapart

[redvexillum]

Tenth Kiss: Plush

A/N: I asked @redfoxwritesstuff to read this story for me in advance to make sure it was good because I'm mighty proud of this story. Here is her response:

SUMMARY: In the middle of Hell’s chaos, a small, gentle bond grows between two lonely hearts. With handmade hugs and quiet promises under the fireworks, they create a little world of warmth just for each other. 

The first time you stepped into Hazbin Hotel, your gaze stumbled upon… whatever that was. 

A ridiculous, egg-shaped demon, waddling around in a crisp, pinstriped suit. 

You blinked. 

What in the fever-dream hell is that? It was your first thought, fighting the instinct to either laugh or stare too long. 

You were used to Hell’s usual parade of grotesque, spiny devils, sleek beasts that looked like they crawled straight out of nightmares, and, of course, the occasional unfortunate soul with barely a trace of their humanity left. 

But this? 

An egg. 

A dapper egg, at that. 

It was during one of your walks through the grand, slightly crumbling foyer that you first crossed paths with him (it?) properly. He was tailing the infamous Radio Demon, sticking close to his heels like a loyal, cracked little duckling. 

You smiled, trying to brush aside the shiver that the Radio Demon’s distorted, old-timey crackle of a voice always triggered in your spine. 

Charlie promised everyone here was working towards a chance at redemption. She believed it. Fiercely. Stubbornly. And you wanted to believe it too. Even if that particular demon’s grin looked like it could split your soul into pieces without a second thought. 

“Hello!” you greeted brightly, forcing cheer into your voice as you passed them. 

The little egg-demon paused mid-step, blinking up at you. His tiny, stubby fingers lifted, as if pointing at himself, questioning. The shell of his head was cracked in places, faint golden light spilling from the fractures. His wide, glowing eyes and bashful little smile made him look almost… innocent. 

It was oddly, charmingly, heartbreakingly cute. 

In a ‘this must be what hallucinations feel like’ kind of way. 

You laughed, a soft giggle slipping out despite yourself. “Hi,” you said again, waving at him. 

The Radio Demon chuckled, the sound like a hundred broken radios all hissing in a discordant chorus. He tapped the egg-demon on the head with his microphone staff — not hard, but firm enough to make a hollow thock echo. 

“Now, now,” the Radio Demon said in a sing-song voice, “manners, my dear.” 

The little guy jolted as if struck by lightning. He threw a shaky salute at the Radio Demon, squeaking, “Yes boss!” before turning back to you with an enthusiastic wiggle of his stubby hands. “Hello!!” 

You couldn’t help the grin stretching across your face. It was your first real interaction with him, but something about it stuck with you — like a soft warmth lodged in your chest. 

You wanted to know more. 

Who was he? Or it? 

How did a little egg-soldier end up here, of all places, under the terrifying wing of the Radio Demon overlord? 

The opportunity came sooner than expected. 

Charlie — sweet, endlessly optimistic Charlie — had to cancel her weekly “Generosity Session” that afternoon. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Not because you hated the idea of being kind, but because Charlie’s version of “lessons” sometimes felt more like a sugar coma mixed in with a headache. 

There’s only so many times you could be told to share your crayons metaphorically before you started questioning your sanity. 

Wandering back into the common room, you spotted him again. 

The little egg-demon sat slumped on one of the ancient, threadbare couches, staring blankly at a cracked wall. 

Alone. 

The Radio Demon was nowhere to be seen. 

You hesitated at the doorway, gnawing lightly at your bottom lip. 

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t get attached. 

You were determined to blaze through Charlie’s redemption program — do the work, smile, nod, ace the tests — and get out of Hell as fast as demonically possible. 

Connections only slow you down, you told yourself. 

But the lonely way he sat there, legs too short to even touch the floor, fidgeting with the edge of his little jacket with tiny nervous hands… 

You found yourself walking over anyway. 

Curiosity gnawed at you, subtle but persistent. 

In this strange hotel, everyone’s backstory seemed to bleed out eventually — often through some chaotic song-and-dance number, or the occasional drunken confession at Husk’s perpetually sticky bar. 

After years of drifting through Hazbin Hotel’s madness, you had pieced together fragments of stories: tragedies, comedies, and horrors that belonged to the broken souls trapped here. 

And now, here sat the egg demon — a quiet, curious little mystery of his own. 

You sauntered over toward him with what you hoped was casual confidence. 

In reality? 

It was more of an awkward, hesitant shuffle. 

You stumbled a bit, catching yourself before you could completely trip over your feet, and plopped yourself onto the couch beside him. 

Together, you stared at the same cracked, stained wall. 

The hotel was eerily silent, a rare lull. 

Not even Husk was at his usual station behind the bar, half-heartedly polishing the same grimy glass while his bloodshot eyes stared into nothingness. 

The quiet stretched between you and the little egg demon like a thick, humming tension. 

He didn’t look at you. 

Didn’t even flinch. 

You frowned. 

Leaning forward slightly, you broke the silence. “Hey! What’cha doing?” 

The egg demon startled so violently that he nearly rolled right off the couch, his oval body tipping dangerously to the side, before he scrambled to upright himself again. 

You couldn’t help it — a soft, amused giggle bubbled up from your chest at the sight. 

The way he had to turn his entire body to face you, like a penguin spinning awkwardly in place, made your heart squeeze with unexpected fondness. 

“Hi!” he chirped brightly, blinking his large glowing eyes at you with an open, earnest expression. 

Then he simply sat there. 

Staring. 

Waiting, as if it was your turn to lead whatever game you had started. 

You scratched the back of your neck, a little bashful now that you had his full attention. “So… where’s your, uh… boss?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you leaned back into the worn couch cushions. 

At the mention of his “boss,” the little egg-demon puffed himself up proudly. 

Or, at least, tried to — jutting his entire shell-shaped body forward and planting his tiny fists firmly on his sides in the universal gesture of someone trying to look important. 

“Oh!” he declared, his voice full of pride. “He said I have a super-duper important job today! Which is… to sit here and not move!” 

You blinked slowly, trying to process what you had just heard. 

“… Aren’t you… bored?” you asked, voice soft, almost pitying. 

The little demon grinned, a cheeky, lopsided smile. 

“Well, I’m on a super important mission,” he said with such adorable haughtiness that it was impossible not to smile. 

“A super important mission,” you repeated flatly, thick with skepticism. 

Not that he noticed. 

“Yup!” he said proudly, spinning back to face the wall with complete and total dedication. 

You drummed your fingers against your knees, searching for something — anything — to say next. 

Clearing your throat, you tried again. 

“So, uh… want some company?” 

The egg demon spun his whole body toward you again, beaming so brightly it was almost blinding. 

“Oh! That would be awesome!” he said, his voice practically sparkling with excitement. 

You were doomed. 

Utterly, helplessly doomed. 

In your old life — your human life — you had always had a weakness for soft, round creatures. 

Your bedroom once overflowed with chunky stuffed animals, their plush bodies stacked into teetering mountains of pure comfort. 

And while this egg demon wasn’t exactly chunky or soft… he was the perfect combination of rotund, fragile-looking, and absurdly adorable. 

You fought the overwhelming urge to scoop him up into a giant, bone-crushing hug. 

… Probably not the best idea. 

Unless you wanted scrambled eggs and existential regret on your hands. 

“So…” you said, smiling, “what’s your name?” 

The egg demon straightened up proudly, as if waiting for this very question his whole life. 

“I’m Frank!” he said brightly, without hesitation. 

Frank. 

It suited him somehow. 

Simple. 

Sweet. 

Endearingly ridiculous. 

You chuckled warmly.  

“Nice to meet you, Frank,” you said warmly, your grin stretching wide without you even realizing it. 

One moment you were exchanging simple greetings, and the next… 

You were tumbling headfirst into the most bizarre, hilarious conversation of your afterlife. 

It started innocently enough — with a clumsy chat about Hell’s weather (which was surprisingly varied, though always miserable) — and somehow spiralled into a discussion about an underground shadow government that, according to Frank, controlled all the financial flow of Hell itself. 

It was madness. 

Absolute insanity. 

Yet, there was something utterly captivating about it — the way Frank's tiny hands waved animatedly in the air, the wide-eyed seriousness with which he explained his theories. 

Each wild idea, each whispered “truth” he declared with a wink, was another step down the rabbit hole you never knew you wanted to fall into. 

You laughed until your sides ached. 

Somehow, the topic jumped again — this time to Santa Claus. 

Frank swore up and down that the jolly old man originally hailed from Hell, a retired demon who rebranded himself into a children's icon to escape the corporate slavery of the infernal economy. 

You were mid-giggle, tears pricking your eyes, when the air in the lobby shifted — an almost tangible static charge crackling around you. 

The familiar fizzle and pop of a broken radio shuddered through the hotel. 

You stiffened instantly. 

The Radio Demon had returned. 

Charlie always said he could be trusted, that he was reformed, but it didn’t matter. 

The sight of him — that wolfish grin splitting his face, his blood-red eyes glowing with a dangerous light — always set your instincts screaming. 

No amount of gentle assurances could silence the crawling unease that prickled at the back of your neck whenever he was near. 

You knew he was always plotting. 

Always scheming. 

You could feel it. 

Still, even with the Radio Demon’s looming shadow ever-present, a new pattern began to weave itself into your days. 

Somehow, without meaning to, you and Frank carved out a little pocket of normalcy amid the chaos. 

Every evening, you found yourself wandering the hotel’s crooked halls, seeking out your round little friend to dive into whatever absurd conspiracy theory he'd come up with that day. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was wonderful. 

It made the endless, boring days in Hell a little less heavy. 

Until one evening, when things shifted. 

Frank, in his usual excitable way, casually mentioned he used to be part of a crew. 

He spoke of another boss — a snake sinner, he said, voice quieter, almost reverent. 

Your mind immediately pictured the dusty, faded portrait hanging in the foyer — a steampunk-looking snake devil with a top hat.

Sir Pentious, the plaque beneath it read. 

You didn’t press Frank for more details. 

You didn’t have to. 

Whispers filled in the gaps. 

Angel Dust, with a rare seriousness, gave you the most information. 

Vaggie and Husk barely met your eyes when you asked, both mumbling awkwardly and steering the conversation away. 

And Charlie… poor Charlie… she burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably before fleeing the room. 

That was how you learned the truth. 

Sir Pentious hadn’t just been another sinner. 

He had been a comrade — a fighter in the final battle against the exterminators. 

He had died a hero. 

Apparently, Frank wasn’t alone back then. 

There had been many like him — tiny, toddling versions of eggs, inventions of Sir Pentious’s own mad genius. 

Together, they built wild, crazy weapons of destruction that were, more often than not, too dangerous to actually use. 

It sounded almost… Funny. 

Almost whimsical. 

But underneath the laughter, a heavy truth settled in your chest like a stone. 

Sinners could die. 

Not just once. 

Forever. 

Even in Hell — a place meant to be endless — there could be an end. 

The next time you found Frank, perched in his usual spot, chattering animatedly about how crop circles were actually secret messages from retired angels, something inside you cracked. 

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Are you okay?” 

The words hung awkwardly between you, clumsy and naked. 

Frank blinked at you, his head tilting slightly, before his gaze dropped to his small feet swinging above the floor. 

“I don't know,” he said softly. 

The words were so simple, but they struck you like a blade. 

There was a thoughtful sadness there, buried under all his usual bright-eyed enthusiasm — a quiet mourning for something lost and irretrievable. 

You didn't bring it up again after that. 

Not until the new year rolled in with its false promises of change. 

Until then, you simply stayed. 

Sat beside him. 

Listened to the silly theories and the laughter and the little flashes of melancholy he tried so hard to hide. 

And somehow, in a place built on eternal punishment, you found a strange, fragile friendship — one you weren’t sure you could ever let go of. 

Your love for stuffed animals — especially the soft, squishy, round ones — had once consumed you so much that you taught yourself how to crochet, weaving your affections into every stitch and knot. 

It had started as a simple hobby, something to keep your hands busy… but over time, it became an obsession, a tiny joy you hoarded against the darker parts of life. 

But when you died and tumbled into Hell, the passion for it was left to rot alongside so many other pieces of your old self. 

Until now. 

Until Frank. 

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime within a lifetime, you picked up your old crochet needle with trembling hands and began to create again. 

You poured hours into every loop and pull of the thread, weaving memories and hope and silent prayers into the yarn. 

It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

A way to bring a little light into this endless gray. 

But now, on the night of New Year’s Eve, as you tugged Frank up the narrow, creaking stairs to the rooftop of the hotel, doubt gnawed at you. 

Maybe this was foolish. 

Maybe it would only remind him of what he'd lost. 

Maybe it would hurt him even more. 

Your fingers fumbled nervously with the doorknob, your heart hammering too loud in your chest. 

“Ohhh, I love fireworks!” Frank chirped behind you, his voice full of excitement as he scrambled up the last few steps. 

“My boss — my first boss — he loved all the lights and the loud sounds!” 

Your heart twisted painfully. 

It felt like a warning, like a bad omen, and yet you couldn’t turn back now. 

You opened the rooftop door with a quiet creak, the cool night air hitting you like a splash of water. 

Frank bolted past you eagerly — but he stopped short. 

His tiny body went stiff. 

His wide, glowing eyes locked onto the display you had carefully arranged at the edge of the rooftop. 

A small cluster of crocheted plushies — round, soft little egg-shaped dolls, all stitched with love to look just like him. 

There were five of them, each slightly different from Frank. 

And in the very centre… 

A miniature snake plush, crafted from your memories of the dusty portrait in the hotel’s foyer — a tiny, stitched version of Sir Pentious, complete with a little crooked top hat. 

The night fell heavy with silence, so complete and raw it squeezed at your chest. 

It reminded you painfully of that first time you sat beside Frank on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, talking about wild theories because there were no words big enough to fill that loneliness. 

You shifted awkwardly, your voice breaking the silence in a timid whisper, “Uh… Frank?” 

For a moment, he said nothing. 

Then, slowly, he moved. 

He dropped to his knees, gathering the soft, colourful creations into his little arms, cradling them as if they were the most precious things he had ever held. 

“Wow!” he gasped, hugging them tightly. His cracked shell glowed faintly with joy. “It’s like… they’re here with me!” 

Your chest burned — a bittersweet ache that made your throat close up. 

You had known loss before. 

That unbearable isolation when it felt like the whole world forgot you existed. 

And you had vowed, somewhere deep inside, that no one else should feel that way if you could help it. 

You sat beside him silently, watching as he clutched the plushies to his chest like lifelines. 

Then, as the first firework screamed into the sky and burst into a brilliant shower of colour, you saw it — 

A tear. 

It slid from the crack in his shell, catching the coloured light like a tiny, shimmering jewel before falling away. 

More tears followed, streaming down his round face without shame, as he smiled. 

Smiled. 

“I’m glad I could watch the fireworks with everyone again,” Frank said, voice thick with emotion. “It was lonely… watching on my own.” 

The booming fireworks filled the sky, painting Hell’s eternal night in impossible colours. 

Yet somehow, sitting there, it didn’t feel so hellish anymore. 

You reached over and gently squeezed his small arm, your voice barely louder than a whisper between the explosions. “I’m with you too, Frank.” 

He looked up at you, tears still trailing down his cracked shell, and beamed the brightest, purest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Yeah! I have you! And a new boss now!” he declared with such earnest joy it made you laugh through your own threatening tears. 

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his cool shell. “Happy New Year,” you whispered. “Let’s spend another one together. And another. And another.” 

Frank blinked up at you, wonder written all over his face, like a child seeing magic for the first time. 

“Really?” he asked, voice trembling with hope. 

“Really,” you promised. “I’ll be here with you. Always.” 

With a soft little squeak of happiness, Frank nestled closer to you, still clutching the handmade dolls like treasures, as the night sky above raged with colour and sound. 

You tilted your head back, watching the lights burn bright against the darkness, and made a silent wish. 

That Frank would learn to grieve.  

That he would heal. 

That somehow, despite the place you both found yourselves trapped in, happiness could still be stitched together, one little piece at a time. 

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[geeeemmmmmmm]

Tomorrow Never Came - part 4

chapter summary: Soldat is starting to trust you more and more each day and with that so is the urge to be in your presence. Just as things are moving somewhat steady you get a text from Steve Series masterlist

a/n:Wowow she updated this series oh my god!!! I did use google translate for russian so any mistakes are my fault. Not much to say here but this chapter is just mainly one to just set up for the upcoming parts but as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

wc:2k warnings:I don't think there are any but if I have missed anything please lmk

It had been a couple days after you reintroduced bathing to Soldat, and that process seemed to make him a lot more trusting within your company. He was improving at a somewhat rapid pace, considering what he escaped from. His stomach was adjusting to proper sustenance again, and it showed on him; his hair seemed to be more sleek and shiny, his skin was gradually returning back into a healthy complexion from a pale and unhealthy one, but what seemed to be the most noticeable was the way his dark blue eyes, that resembled a storm at sea, was in a way clearing up.

Sadly, what would never improve would be the vicious nightmares he and you shared. Hydra's grip on your mind may be shoved off, but the imprint from them will always linger – even in the happiest of moments. Even after a couple weeks of harbouring the poor man, his nightmares kept themselves consistent, as if Zola was in his room again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the same; their savage hands would always stay on your body. Your sheets acted like the restraints that were once forced on you as the first serum was rammed into your veins. In every nightmare, you’d find yourself searching for Bucky, the security you always felt with him and the promise that he’d always come back and protect you.

Soldat experienced a somewhat similar thing within him – a feminine figure with a gentle voice calling out for him would always be standing over him as he fell from the train. It was a figure that was comforting, even if it was blocked by the fog in his mind.

It was another calm night of you being cuddled up on the couch with your favourite blanket, along with your favourite movie playing softly in the background; you kept the volume down on everything in order not to scare Soldat and to be able to hear him if he were to be even more distressed. Something felt odd… a lingering presence loomed over your mind. Carefully, you looked over your shoulder, expecting the worst, yet it was just Soldat standing outside his door, looking at you like a sad puppy.

“Soldat, are you okay?” you asked, making sure your tone wasn't coming off as accusatory.

He blinked a couple times, like he was trying to remember what he was doing, before turning on his heel to disappear in the guest room where he resided.

“You can sit out here with me, it’s okay to want company,” you called out softly, letting yourself smile as his head tilted slightly towards you.

Soldat had always wanted company, yet he was always put into a cell with the only company being the echoes of guards laughing through the halls. If he was ever given company within the miserable lab, it would be training the next batch of barbaric winter soldiers, and they both saw each other as programmed assets. Very rarely, he’d meet a pair of soothing eyes staring at him from another grotty cell or when they looked up from the floor of the training ground — all bloody and beaten from riling up the soldiers for him. That was the most pleasant company he’d had for decades, and even then it was burned out of his mind. Yet somehow, those hypnotic eyes would always weave themselves back into his brain.

“Who could resist those eyes, doll,” Bucky whispered as he cupped your cheek, watching you chuckle at his statement. It was something he’d always tell you, that your eyes were hypnotic to him, with the way you would gaze at him in any situation. You used your charm to your advantage by pulling extra puppy dog eyes when you wanted to go dancing with your boyfriend; of course, Bucky would relent every time and sway you around the dancefloor — not once breaking eye contact.

In a hesitant manner, Soldat turned to face you again, like he was making sure he heard you right. No handler would ever willingly want his presence if it weren't for a mission or mission report.

“You heard me right, you can sit out here if you like,” you said softly.

You knew how it felt being deceived by your handlers as they laughed before taking control of your body. Everything in his mind was telling him not to, that this was a cruel trick to hurt him. Yet something in your eyes made him ignore those chary voices as he awkwardly shuffled to stand next to the armrest which you sat next to.

It broke your heart, the way he looked down at you, awaiting a new ‘command’.

“You can sit on the couch with me or anywhere else. I don’t mind.”

His tense demeanor flickered between a state of distress and comfort with the ability to pick what he wanted. Keeping his movements slow, he managed to situate himself on the carpeted floor, with his back resting against the couch — near your legs.

“I’m just watching a movie. It’s probably my favourite one that actually isn’t from the 40s,” you laughed softly, remembering the way Bucky, Steve and you would sneak into cinemas. Soldat looked over at you, confusion evident on his face.

“I know, I’m old, right? I was at Hydra too. I was kidnapped from my house after having the last night with the love of my life before he went to war,” you explained solemnly. Your joke didn’t soothe you this time.

Soldat’s expression kept seeming confused as he slightly nodded, in a way to egg you on. It took you by surprise — not many people really cared about the details of life, especially an ex-tortured assassin that didn't speak much.

“I don’t know why Hydra took me, but I was injected with one of the first serums. It worked, but not in the way they’d hoped. I harness some excess strength and I don’t age, and that’s about it. So they kept me to bait the other soldiers so they could learn how to properly fight while I was basically a glorified lure.”

You explained the grisly details of your time at Hydra and gave some of the memories you kept from your old life. It felt like you talked for a lifetime, yet Soldat kept listening and keeping his eyes on you as you spoke.

“God, Bucky would always stare at me like you do,” you said carefully.

“I… know you.” His voice was unsure as he spoke. “твой знакомый.” [ your familiar]

“I would watch you from my cell, maybe that’s it?” you questioned softly, not wanting to upset him if he’s reverting back into Russian out of old habits, forced into his mind by his handlers.

“Нет.”

Soldat’s voice kept quiet and rough as he slumped further into the couch. You just left that conversation there — after all, you remembered how daunting it was to hold a conversation at first.

Throughout the movie, your attention would drag down to him and the way he would shiver ever so slightly. Without thinking, you shed one of the blankets wrapped around your body and started to place it around his shoulders — a gesture you would always do to your Bucky.

You both jumped at the interaction as Soldat whipped his head to look at you, and then the blanket you placed around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, you uh, you seemed cold,” you stumbled over words to try to justify your action as he stared at you in silence. You kept your hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure of what to do, and Soldat did the same. He stayed stationary, not particularly showing a sign of discomfort.

“I’m going to go to bed, it’s quite late,” you whispered before reaching to switch the TV off.

“Feel free to stay out here and watch TV or anything like that,” you quickly reassured him as you got up.

“Спасибо.” [Thank you]

You smiled down at him as he held the blanket curled over his shoulders.

“Of course,” you murmured, suddenly you were grateful you picked up on some basic Russian.

Sleep comes quickly to you after completing your nightly routine. For what felt like the first time in years, you slept without a nightmare. You dreamt about the domestic life you had always imagined having with Bucky. It was bittersweet to wake up and remember the tired smiles and kisses exchanged, even if it was in a dream — it was what was meant to happen. You couldn't tell if Soldat had a nightmare, you hoped not, considering you weren't jolted awake by his screams and cries.

Like a bear emerging from its cave, you crept out of your room with your favourite PJs on, ready to make a calming tea. You were expecting tea — what you weren’t expecting was to find Soldat still sitting where he was last night. Unsure if he was asleep or not, you tiptoed your way to face the couch; sure enough, he fell asleep like a little kid who fought their way to stay up late, only to let slumber pull them under. You smiled at the sight of him and tiptoed back to your room, not wanting to disrupt him by making breakfast.

Happily, you crawled back into bed and checked your phone. 2 new messages

It was uncommon for you to get texts; you preferred the calmer lifestyle. It was even more uncommon for Steve to text you.

I don’t know how, but I found a letter Bucky wrote for you. I’m sorry I didn't find this earlier.Dear Y/N,I don’t know where you were on the morning I shipped out. Steve told me something came up with your parents or something like that—I hope that’s what happened. It must’ve been. You promised me you’d be there, and doll, I’m scared something happened to you.I don’t know how long it took for you to read this, but I’ve only been gone about a week, and I miss you with everything I have. I miss our diner. I miss tasting the chocolate milkshake you always had on your lips. I miss teasing Stevie with you. I miss your eyes. I miss the way you’d hold my face in your hands like I’d break if you didn’t—but I am breaking without you.I just miss you.I’ll keep this short, in case my mind’s just playing tricks on me about why you weren’t there and I’m being a fool. But I had to write to you. I’m doing everything I can to come back, I swear it. I’ll swear on my sister that I will marry you when I’m home—no matter how long it takes.I love you.Yours forever,Bucky

You couldn't help it; tears flooded your eyes as you read. You missed Bucky with everything, and you never let yourself remember how he must've felt when you disappeared. You don’t know how long you curled yourself up in your duvet for, but it made everything worse when you saw the second text Steve sent you.

I don’t know if you’ll believe this but Nat was looking into this person, The Winter Soldier, I think he’s called. I don’t know if you have seen him but something about him reminds me of Bucky. We are looking into the records we have about what happened to Buck after he fell from the train.

It felt like finding out what happened to Bucky all over again. No. Surely the assassin you’ve harboured and kept hidden from Hydra is your Bucky. The Bucky that would walk you home in the dead of night, even if it was an inconvenience to him. The Bucky who would match your pace as you walked hand in hand. The Bucky that showed you what love is.

You couldn't bring yourself to reply, let alone tell Steve about what’s changed in your life. You knew you would have to and somehow ask Soldat about his mysterious past, but all you know is you just wish this was just some extravagant nightmare, and you’d wake up safe and sound in Bucky’s arms again.

a/n:This chapter has kinda set me up with ideas on how to progress further so I don't really know what to think of this but I hope it was somewhat enjoyable and thank you for reading💞

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

[internetgiraffekid1673]

AU Chloé Bourgeois from @princess-of-the-corner

I've been trying out new drawing tools, since I finally gave up on the random bare-bones program I downloaded back in high school, and a coworker recommended procreate. To familiarize myself with it, I decided to draw some of Cornerverse's alternate universe Chloes! Here are the drawings, with the AU explanations under the cut:

Honeybee (Hero Chat) and Lady Luck:

These are Corner's two main AUs. Hero Chat has the heroes set up a group chat back in season 3 to avoid miscommunications, and canon divergence ensues from there. Chloe and Kagami have both pulled a Catwalker there, but everybody does get a design update (I yoinked the pose, since this was the first one I drew and I didn't want to think too hard).

Lady Luck is a pretty standard fare Kwami Swap AU where Chloe gets the Ladybug, and most other characters' miraculous are also shuffled around, since Chloe is doing the picking. Corner's designs here!

Forged AU

After the events of Miracle Queen, Chloe gets a kwami from a different Miracle Box--Miirzan, the bear Kwami of Fire---and makes protecting the exposed heroes her personal mission, since nobody did it for her.

Chloe takes an interesting route for her hero costume in this AU. The first time she went out, she was actually just trying to use the glamour to not get recognized as a civilian, which meant she went with understated clothing that was functionally a palette swap of what she was wearing that day (pictured on the left). While she continues with this trend in the story, I also wanted to give her a proper hero costume, perhaps after she gains some more stability, so I made one myself ;) (pictured on the right).

Double Trouble

After Miracle Queen, Chloe and Ladybug talk and realize taking away an exposed heroe's only means of protection and benching them won't actually keep them safe. Instead, Ladybug permanently hands out the Miraculous, but shuffles them around so it looks like they picked a completely new team. At the same time, Chloe starts working as a double agent against MothBalls and Mayura (who think she's a double agent for them), and gets paired up with Lila. Some Sonic Adventure 2 fandub jokes go a long way to easing that particular relationship, and the future gets a whole lot brighter.

While the whole AU was built on Sonic fandub jokes, Chloe doesn't ACTUALLY say the "I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT" line. That honor goes to Alya in Hero Chat. But, I figured it was fitting just for the drawing. I ever so slightly adjusted Corner's horse!Chloe design to be an even more explicit Nightmare Moon reference.

Bee, Wasp, and Hornet:

In an effort to explain the massive personality retcons between season 1-3 Chloe, and season 4-5 Chloe, a theory was proposed that 4-5 Chloe (Joé/Hornet) is actually a sentimonster created by Hawkmoth and 1-3 Chloe (Bee) is somewhere else entirely. She comes back sometime in the middle of season 5 and is pissed as all hell about her replacement, but Zoe (Wasp) considers both of them her sisters and is determined to make things work.

While this AU is sometimes combined with Corner's Isekai!Chloe AU, sometimes she's just yeeted someplace out of the way so she can't be involved in the plot for a bit. Personally, I like the idea that she ended up camped out in the ReVerse and was only able to return after the Paris Special.

(I did lightly redesign Zoe here, just to cater more to how I picture her in my head. Joé's design is just canon!Chloe, but I got to put AU Chloe in whatever the hell I wanted, so I went whole hog on my thing about putting her in blue and giving her the curly hair Corner and I both headcanon as her natural hair texture).

Princess Bee:

After the Season 5 finale, the dust didn't quite settle as it did in canon. Chloe, now with hard evidence that neither of her parents cared about her, worked her butt off to get into law school with no assistance from them and cut ties completely, down to changing her last name. While there, she befriended the world's most generic dude John Doe, who later married the world's most generic chick Jane Doe and they settled down on a horse farm in Kansas. After some therapy, Chloe decided she wanted a kid, but in vitro would be too much of a hassle, and John agreed to help her out. This is the family photo.

Back in Paris, things got. Complicated. During the final fight, LB and CN ended out having to make a Wish to defeat Hawkmoth. The price was that neither Ladybug nor her allies were able to use the Miraculous ever again.

This meant that when Lila started her grand vengeance plan using the butterfly, she got straight up ghosted. So instead, she just hung on to the butterfly for ~20 years doing low scale cons (and becoming friends with Chester Fester, the best character ever), aimlessly drifting as she grapples with her undiagnosed clinical depression.

Zoe, after witnessing how Andre was willing to up and replace his bio daughter when a shinier new replacement showed up, decided she wanted no part of it and called her dad to help her sort things out. She basically ended out living alone in an apartment in France sponsored by Mr. Lee with him as her legal guardian on paperwork, and more or less avoided talking about the whole situation with the rest of the Miraculous Gang.

Somewhere around the 20 year mark, after everyone has grown up, had kids, and moved on with their lives, everything goes to shit. Andre, who hasn't updated his will in all that time, finally kicks the bucket, and Chloe is dragged kicking and screaming back to Paris (with her daughter Dawn in tow) to deal with the defunct hotel she just inherited.

At the same time, the Adrienette kids finally find the Miraculous stowed in their house, and decide to take them out for a joyride in a burst of teenage stupidity. They immediately end up on the news and Lila comes out of the woodwork to address some unresolved grudges. With the original Miraculous Team incapable of using their powers, and with no other options readily available, the next gen kids are now unfortunately Holders who have to stop her.

Oh, and of course Dawn miraculously (heh) ends up going to the same school as Adrienette's kids and she and Emma are gay as fuck for each other. Their parents are unaware of the connection to their past for a comedically long period of time.

Basically, the next gen kids are in a Magical Girl Anime, Chloe is unwillingly playing Homescapes with the hotel, and the OG Miracuclass are watching the mistakes of their past come back to haunt them :).

Everyone remember to go check out Corner's tumblr and their ao3, there is so much fun fuckery (not just ML fuckery either) going on over there! Thank ya and goodnight!

[tinkrtailrsldrspy]

How Does This Even Happen?! - Part 5

Huh. That didn't take that long. I keep coming back to this cause my art program keeps quitting on my ass.

So, have the stupidest angst I've ever written!

First Part - Previous Part - Next Part

By eight months, Ford’s cravings have stabilized at least somewhat. Meaning he’s no longer demanding liquid nightmares of the innocent and the last screams of a dying dimension, which Bill would not let him touch even though it would be good for the baby. Because the only possible reason he would be craving such horrific things was the half-Euclidean child that was developing in the organ he didn’t usually possess.

The emotional fluctuations had hit pretty hard, however, and Bill was beginning to wish for the cravings back.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” Ford demanded, collapsed in a sobbing heap on his laboratory’s floor (Bill had installed it after Ford’s first meltdown - the human had been certain Bill was trying to take away his autonomy to research whatever he pleased. Bill had folded before his human had even finished the accusation).

“Fordsy, I do love you!” Bill tried to comfort his dearest human, cupping Ford’s cheeks with his hands and doing his best to wipe away the flowing tears with his thumbs. “I promise!”

“But you got mad at me!” Ford wailed as snot dripped from his nose.

“No, no, Starshine, not at all!” This was the third time this week Bill had been forced to apologize for getting slightly annoyed when Ford had neglected to sleep due to being absorbed in an experiment. “I’m not mad at you, I was never mad at you, I’m just worried!”

“Then why did you yell?!” Ford’s cries were only getting louder.

Bill was going to need to call in the cavalry for this one.

(He also hadn’t yelled. He’d spoken a bit louder than normal, but Ford was sensitive right now and he’d forgotten he’d promised not to do that.)

After a single mental ping, Pyronica burst into the room, eyes wide and blazing as she took in the scene before you. “Oh, sweetheart!” she cooed as she hurried over and knelt beside Ford, pulling him into a sideways hug. The human went willingly. “Do I need to turn on the Hellmark channel and pull out the jellybeans?”

Ford’s tears seemed to slow a bit at the offer, nodding miserably as he went to wipe his face with a sleeve. Bill beat him to it, flicking out his silvery tongue to slather it over his human’s face to clean it of snot and tears. Ford gave off a watery laugh once the demon was done, pretending to fight him off with weak movements.

“Ew!” the scientist giggled as he now tried to clean the spit from his face. He’d never told Bill (aloud) that he thought it was so thoughtful when his Muse did that - spit was so much easier to clean up than snot.

Bill savored the taste of Ford on his tongue, smacking his eyelid-lips together before his eye rolled back into place. “I’ll grab the Gatorade,” he added. “You, my darling dear, are dehydrated!” Ford smiled tiredly as Pyronica helped him to his feet, leaning on the fiery elemental as she began to lead him out of the lab and towards the communal break-room.

(Which was pretty deluxe, if you asked any of the Henchmaniacs. Never-ending supplies of snacks, the latest and greatest entertainment systems, a boombox that played every song and radio station from every dimension, a fully decked-out kitchen, the most comfortable couches, loungers, chairs, loveseats, and beanbags that had ever existed, and a TV that always played exactly what you wanted it to without having to use a remote. It was honestly one of the main reasons anyone wanted to be a Henchmaniac in the first place.)

Bill didn’t follow the two, knowing his presence would just agitate Ford more - which was the exact opposite of what he needed. No, he merely snapped and the Gatorade appeared just beside Ford’s favorite spot on the red sofa, ice-cold and the seal already broken. Pyronica glanced back at him just once, to which he twisted his eye in a sad smile. She winked in return - well… as much as a being with a single eye could wink.

Watching the duo depart left Bill feeling a bit… useless.

More often than not, these days, he was the cause of his Sixer’s tears. And, now that the bond’s changes were solidifying, it was sight he could no longer enjoy. In fact, he was very quickly finding himself unable to enjoy most of the things that had once brought him immeasurable entertainment. Wanton chaos and destruction no longer held that bright, shiny appeal it once had.

He’d even canceled a planned take-over of Dimension 8897^ with Hectorgon and Kryptos after having the thought that - ugh - some of the beings in it might also be expecting parents! The demonic entity was fairly certain the only thing that was supposed to change in him was his ability to leave/harm/lose feelings for his partner - not his fucking morals! Which had been just fine before, thank you very much!

Sighing, he knew there was only one entity in the entirety of the multiverse that would be able to shed some light on this.

…

He just really didn’t wanna ask the giant sky guppy for help…

[crystalandparrot]

The Hardest Trial

A Gravity Falls Reader Insert

Part 1: The Frilly Guy Upstairs

Bill is OOC!! He will be growing as a character that he probably wouldn't otherwise and if you have a problem with it, don't read. It's not a romantic story, it's just what I thought would happen if he was FORCED into this situation. This is an insert, I was gonna make it into an OC, but I don't know if people want that. If you do, I'll switch it up. Enjoy :)

"Look, from one God to another, who cares I tried to kill those brothers? They're all ants, it's all a game. Let's press restart and try again! I'm too cool and fun to die, just give this angle one more Tri."

With a sigh, the AXOLOTL spoke, "You cannot regrow through denial. You'll have to face my hardest trial. See my program to the end then you may yet live again."

Bill laughed, pain erupting through his body as he giggled. "What? Am I fighting demons? Eating ghosts?"

"You're getting what you need the most. One way to absolve your crimes. To change your form will take some time." The AXOLOTL blinked slowly.

Bill felt a white, tingly feeling start at his feet and crawl up. Bill couldn't believe his luck! Man this salamander was an idiot! All he had to do was fake a tear or too and he was home free! Whatever kind of challenge it was Bill could handle it! He was UNDEFEATED in combat, there's no way he wouldn't win. With a joyful expression, Bill shook the AX's hand. It was a deal!

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For the first time in his existence, Bill was awoken peacefully with quiet music. He sluggishly blinked his eye opened—popping it open when he felt a squeeze around his body. Frantically, Bill looked around, pupil narrowing on a chubby arm hugging him to a small, plushy body—a baby.

"WHAT?!" Bill shouted suddenly, ripping himself from the chubby arms of the sleeping infant. As suspected, the baby began to cry from the unpleasant disturbance. Its arms reached out, looking for its angular cuddle buddy in desperation. Fat tears rolled down the round, rosy cheeks while wails of sadness left the lips of the baby in front of Bill.

Without warning, the door burst open and in ran two humans, both frantic and sweaty. Bill recognized one of these humans, the taller woman who was holding a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. He supposed the other female was her wife or spouse of some sort, a shorter female who's eyes glanced around for any possible threat to the infant's physical form, completely on edge with a golf club in hand.

"Peri, it's fine, the baby probably just had a nightmare." The taller female walked to the crib, breath still slightly uneven.

"Well, well, well, nice to finally meet you face to face Raindrop! The name's Bill—"

"Look, she's fine." The taller female held up the baby gently.

Bill blinked at the woman and briefly flushed red, "Look, lady, I don't take kindly to being ignored—"

"Yeah, I guess." The shorter female (Peri, if Bill recalled correctly) dropped the club and approached the two humans.

"Mindscape. It's still the Mindscape..." Bill said flatly. He closed his eye and rubbed the eyelid, much like how Ford used to rub the bridge of his nose when his glasses started to hurt. "Alright, I can work with Mindscape. I just have to enter a mind of an innocent, impressionable being and influence them to forever serve their one lord and master for all eternity." Bill snapped his fingers, "Piece of cake."

Hearing a giggle, Bill's pupil shot over to the small human that was being gently placed in the crib. He floated over to the crib, joining the parents gazing upon the chubby flesh bag. Once Bill peered over the railing, the baby's eyes shot to him and a large, boneless smile stretched on the baby's fat cheeks. With "grabby" hands to Bill, the baby began forming the letter B and mimicking the sound of said letter.

"Aww, you want your Baba?" The tall woman asked, giving the baby a yellow pacifier. The baby took it gratefully and dropped its arms, but its eyes still stared intensely at Bill.

"Okay, get some sleep, sunspot." The smaller woman kissed the infant on the cheek and began walking out of the room with her partner. "Have you talked to your mom recently?"

"Last week. I have to call her again today, maybe invite her over."

"That'd be nice, I miss Shermie."

Bill was more preoccupied with this infant than the conversation, wondering why this thing of ALL beings in the universe could see him while he lacked a physical form. Soon enough the round doe eyes of the infant closed, its constant sucking on the pacifier lulling it to sleep with comforting familiarity. Only once Bill could hear even breathing from the baby that he could give himself the will to float away.

There had to be something that explained why he was there...but as Bill searched room by room, phasing through walls and drawers for some semblance of a clue, his hope began to die down. Maybe this was the AX's trial, figuring out why he's here. This wasn't Gravity Falls (not that Bill minded, he'd prefer not to be encased by the natural weirdness laws...again), which meant he was no where near his old form, so why?

Bill peeked into the living room, seeing the two women cuddling on the pastel yellow couch, not his favorite shade, but they had nice taste. They were looking into a large family album. They looked to be halfway through it, a picture of Sixer's college gradutation, the nerd was standing there with his PhD(s) in hand and a large stupid smile on his cheeks. Next were two pictures, one of the T.V with Stanley presenting the "Rip-off", the next was an arm, red and splotchy, with the words underneath, 'It gave me rashes'.

"You ever think about calling?" Peri asked, glancing up at her spouse from the spot on her shoulder.

"Sometimes, but I haven't spoken to anyone from that side of my family since my Uncle Stanley died." The taller spouse turned the page. It was a baby picture with the words, "Our little Sunspot : August 30th, 2004"...that was the baby that was currently sleeping in the crib...but that could only mean...

Bill quickly glanced around the room and flew towards the kitchen when he found it. He looked around and finally spotted a classic human time tracker-a calendar. The date most recently crossed off was February 20th, 2005. So either Bill was dealing with some people who really needed to update their decor...

Or Bill went back in time.

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

Pink nightmares

Warnings: First Meetings, fluff

Word count: 1.2 K

Pairing: Barbie (Margot Robbie) x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Barbie meets another human.

PS: Lesbians in a relationship are fast

Requests: OPEN

Special request: @lillymonroe66

[Main masterlist] [Barbie masterlist]

When Barbara got up, she felt her nightshirt sticking to her back. She was sweating. She had had the same nightmare again.

Carefully, she put on the slippers Gloria had bought her and began shuffling her feet to walk to Gloria's door.

She knocked gently on the door, and getting no answer, opened the door only to find the woman sound asleep.

I knew the woman had had a tough week. With her new position at Mattel, a teenage daughter, and her and her husband's estrangement, she didn't have much time for a worried Barbie. So, Barbie simply closed the door and walked to Sasha's door, walked over to the sleeping child and moved her slightly.

"Sasha?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't sleep" she whisper. "What do humans do when they can't sleep?"

"Ahg, Barbie, I don't know , go watch TV or something?"

Sure, when she watched movies with Gloria and she rested her head in her lap, she always fell asleep. That was her solution.

She quickly left the room and went downstairs to the living room, turning on the television and adjusting the volume so as not to disturb anyone.

She changed channels more times than she would like to admit, but, despite finding programs that people regularly use to fall asleep because of how boring they are, such as infomercials (even though Barbie loved infomercials), she couldn't fall asleep.

Thirty minutes later, she was forced to turn off the television and re-enter the teenager's room.

"Sasha?"

"Hmm?"

"I still can't sleep" she whispered again. "what else can I do?"

"Agh, how should I know?" replied the girl half asleep and with obvious irritation. "why don't you go for a walk?" yawned. "Like in the movies you like."

Sure, that always put teenagers in the movies to sleep.

Carefully, she went back downstairs, sitting on the floor to put on the sneakers Gloria had instructed him to leave by the front door, opened the door and quickly decided to put on a sweatshirt of Sasha's, because it was getting a little chilly.

————————————————————————

Barbie had been walking aimlessly for a long time. Somehow, she had reached the Venice Beach pier (her favorite beach), but she was so engrossed in the beauty of the sea, she didn't realize that it had already started to get light.

Least of all she had noticed, a woman was absentmindedly running up to her… until the two collided.

"Oh shit."

"Ahhh"

From the blow, both girls ended up on the floor, the blonde kneeling and the woman in sportswear fell on her butt, but the latter quickly got up to help the blonde up.

"I'm sorry, I'm too distracted."

"Don't worry" spoke Barbie as she tried to brush the dirt off her knees, but as she touched the right one… "Ouch."

"Oh shit" repeated the girl. "Honey, you're bleeding. come here."

Carefully, the stranger took the blonde ex-doll by the shoulders to the table of a coffee shop that was there on the dock and they were just opening.

The girl asked for a first aid kit, sat the blonde down and bent down to be at the blonde's knee.

The waiter quickly brought the first aid kit, causing the stranger to quickly draw the disinfectant on the wound, causing the blonde to hiss.

"I'm really, really sorry. Now you're going to have a little scar on your leg" she spoke, showing sorrow in her eyes.

"Are you kidding?" laughed the blonde "I've never gotten any of these before, it's fabulous… Ahhh!" she yelled as the other woman put disinfectant back on.

"I'm sorry" repeated the stranger. "So…you've never had a raspon, what's wrong with you, didn't you have a childhood?"

'Honey, I think it would be advisable for you not to tell anyone that… you were a doll. People aren't made for this kind of situation normally.'

Gloria's voice reached the blonde's ears.

"It's hard to explain."

Carefully, the woman took a small band-aid out of the box and placed it on the blonde's small, clean wound.

"Ta-da" the woman stood up, as she showed the other woman the band aid along with some jazz hands, eliciting laughter from the former doll. "There. Now not only do you have your scratch, but you also have an amazing band aid to show off. And it's Hello Kitty."

The blonde laughed again.

"Thank you very much…"

She said trying to guess the name of the woman in front of her.

"T/N. My name is T/N. What's yours?"

"Barbara. But everyone calls me Barbie."

They both gave each other a smile.

"Well, Barbie… I'd really like you to tell me about your non-existent experience with childhood injuries."

"Ohh, believe me, it's quite weird and complicated to explain" commented the blonde feeling a strange sensation accentuate in her belly, and she felt a scorching heat rise up her neck to her cheeks.

"Well, I have all the time in the world to understand your story" T/N quickly sat down next to the blonde and gave her a smile. "Besides, I wouldn't waste any opportunity to be with a woman as beautiful as you."

————————————————————————

T/N got out of her car, took her keys and locked the car. She walked quickly to the door of the house and knocked on the door, just once. Before she could give another knock, the door swiftly opened, revealing the blonde ex-doll with a perfectly matched outfit and beautiful silky hair.

"Hi baby."

Before T/N could continue to admire her girlfriend, the latter threw herself into T/N's arms and began to spread kisses all over her face.

"Ahgggg. Get a room."

And there was Sasha, trying to annoy Barbie. T/N had given up trying to figure out which of the two was playing the role of little sister.

"Sasha, leave them alone!"

And there was Gloria, their mother and best friend.

Barbie moved to let T/N into the house. She quickly entered the house, ruffled the younger girl's hair and walked to the kitchen, where Gloria was waiting for them with sandwiches.

"Are you nervous?"

"Well, yeah, anyone would be if you're going to meet all your girlfriend's distant friends."

"Oh honey" Gloria gave her a smile. That mom smile "You don't have to be nervous. Everyone is very friendly there."

"I'm ready now, baby!" Barbie came bounding in with three giant suitcases.

Gloria and T/N looked at each other with complicity.

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"I think I s… Oh, I almost forgot my friendship bracelets I made for everyone…"

And just as quickly as she came, she left, ducking into her room again.

"Do you have the ring?" whispered Gloria.

"What ring?" asked Sasha.

"Shhhh!" both older women tried to shush her.

"Yes" whispered T/N as she pulled out the little velvet box he kept in her pants pockets.

"OH SHIT!" shouted Sasha.

"Gloria, Sasha said a rude thing!" accused Barbie as she re-entered the room next to a fistful of bracelets.

"Yes honey, I just heard her. And she'll be in trouble once they leave."

T/N took the suitcases and all the things Barbie was going to take on her trip (rather short for all the things Barbie was carrying), said goodbye to Gloria, her husband and Sasha.

They both got in the car to drive to Venice Beach.

"Ready?" asked Barbie, flashing that beautiful smile that T/N had fallen in love with.

"Always, with you by my side."

Note:

The only good thing about having my own cell phone stolen is that… I'm more active writing

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts // @xxsekhmet

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[writingfromabox]

Alone on Thanksgiving? (adamsapple)

Working on a fic using this ad as a prompt because all I can think of is Adam making this post:

Not done yet but I think if I manage to finish it, I’ll put it on AO3. What I have written under the cut:

Adam had placed the ad out of sheer perverse humor, absolutely certain that no one would bother to call him on it. For a short while, he achieved some internet fame as people passed it around on social media, obviously getting a kick out of the idea. He’d joked around with the girls at the bar and tattoo parlor he worked at, saying his Thanksgiving plans were all wrapped up and this was the way he’d be swimming in pussy by the end of the month.

Obviously, the whole thing was meant as a fucking joke. So, when he got the email from a Charlotte Morningstar, he’d been tempted to send her back something rude about her reading comprehension. Like, was it not clear that this was comedy? The fuck. 

He showed it to Lute, who was in the middle of sketching out something for a client: a lion, holding a dagger in its mouth. Her skilled fingers easily traced out the minute details of the animal’s mane, her mouth set into a frown in concentration. The frown slipped into a wicked smirk as she read the email, her eyes lighting up slightly. 

“What’s the problem?” she asked, setting her pencil down and giving him an expression that attempted innocent curiosity. Lute’s face wasn’t made for that, and her sharp amusement made her look like a cat waiting on a mouse to walk into a trap. “I thought this was your big holiday plan. I thought you were looking forward to all the ladies with daddy issues and the ‘fuck you dad’ sex.”

Going to Lute for sympathy for his bad decisions never turned out right, but for some reason he kept trying it. He just grumbled and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Anyway, why not do it?” Lute asked, turning back to her sketch. “It’s free dinner. Your ass doesn’t have family to go to on Thanksgiving. I’m too busy this year to do our usual ‘neither of us can cook’ dinner. You’re extremely good at being an annoying asshole, why not turn it into a fun way to get free turkey?”

Adam folded his arms and tried to be more insulted about that accusation, but the wheels in his head were already turning. Unfortunately. It wasn’t even as though this would be the worst decision he’d made on a holiday, really. That would have been the time one of his biker friends convinced him to dress like the grinch and steal their ex-girlfriend’s Christmas tree. 

The night had ended in mayhem, with the tree sparking a minor electrical fire and Adam ending up tossing it into the outdoor pool. And then ripping off chunks of flaming grinch suit, screaming, as his accomplice hosed him down. 

Apparently, the ex-girlfriend’s kid still had nightmares from watching it out his bedroom window. 

Compared to that shitshow, this would only be a minor sort of shenanigan. Probably something he wouldn’t walk away with a property damage felony with. It wasn’t technically illegal to pick fights by antagonizing someone’s probably elderly, decrepit dad. Unless he, like, actually punched him. And Adam had some amount of self control as long as he didn’t dip into the recreational beverages. 

“Well? Figured out what you’re doing yet?” Lute asked, looking up at him from her spread out stack of sketches. Someone seemed to have ordered one of a goth bear holding a chainsaw. The holidays always brought out the weird shit.

He shrugged, mulling it over. The girl had a whole screed laid out, with a father who was being a dick about her attempts to house and reform former criminals. She’d gone on some rant about the program itself and he zoned out every time he tried to read it, the whole thing seemed like she was some kind of charity ball debutante getting pissy about her dad giving her some hard truths.

Not like it mattered either way to him, in the end, as long as he got a dinner. Adam would be lying if he said it didn’t sound like fun to fuck with someone and get rewarded for it. 

And so it came to pass that Adam decided to agree to be the fake dinner date of this do-gooder princess for Thanksgiving, with about the same amount of logical thought that went into his usual decision making. Which was to say, absolutely none. 

[3-2-whump]

The Nightmares Persist: Vik’s POV

Khaled's POV here

Thanks as always goes to my beta reading team @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz

TW/CW: recovery whump, tough love caretaker, nightmares. Not nearly as many for this POV, but that's mostly because we don't know what the nightmares are about

Vik and the other roommates heaved a collective sigh of relief when Khaled spent the first night in his new bedroom. All that time they’d spent hunched over furniture diagrams and riveting boards together was finally going to pay off when Khaled had his own room to sleep in that night. When he’d slept in the living room, the sounds of Khaled’s nightmares traveled through the thin walls of the house, keeping everyone on the second floor awake as he worked through whatever demons came to plague him at night. Each of them took turns waking him up and calming him down, but every time they tried to get to talk to him about these nightmares, Khaled would either change the subject, lie that he was fine, or just shut down and not communicate at all. At least the frequency of their late-night interventions was gradually decreasing throughout the week. Vik hoped that maybe, once he’d had enough time to settle in and have a new space of his own, Khaled’s nightmares would disappear entirely.

Two weeks later, the nightmares were getting worse.

Despite the soundproofing they’d installed on the walls of the attic to keep the neighbors from becoming suspicious, the sound of Khaled’s night terrors filtered through the floor down to the second story below like water through a sieve. Vik put on his glasses and rose from the bed as soon as he heard the screams. He quickly but quietly climbed the stairs leading into the attic and clicked on the switch for the string lights hanging around the room.

“Khaled, hey, Khaled, it’s okay, it’s me!”

The man turned over and woke with a start, his eyes clearing in recognition just before he rolled off the bed and landed on the floor. Vik winced at the loud impact he made, secretly thankful that this time, unlike on the couch, there was no table for him to knock into on the way down. Then, he crouched down to help him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Khaled answered before Vikash could even ask the question. The way his hands slightly shook as Vik helped him off the floor and how he doggedly avoided Vik’s gaze outed his lie.

“No, you’re not.” Vik helped Khaled back into bed. “Whatever these nightmares are, you can’t keep pushing them aside and pretending you don’t have them, because clearly this suppression and avoidance thing you’ve done the past several nights isn’t working.”

“But, you and Eric and Cade–” Khaled began to argue.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d be much happier if you addressed the problem head-on and got the help you need.” Vik unfolded the twisted blankets and draped them back around Khaled’s body, tucking him in snugly but not so snug it would feel suffocating. “Tomorrow, after I get out of work, we’re going back to Joyous Springs–”

“You’re sending me back?!”

“–for therapy, if you’d let me finish,” Vik replied testily. “You’re technically part of an outpatient program to work through your traumatic experiences, and it’s time for you to attend a meeting.”

“Vik, I’m fine!”

Vik glared at him sharply. Khaled buckled under the weight of the glare, then gave a small nod. Vik’s heart wrenched as he looked at the smaller male, cocooned in the sheets and slumping against the pillow. How many nightmares did this guy endure all alone? Vik wondered. How many nights was he all alone with his demons, or worse, sleeping alongside them?

He sighed again. “They might be able to prescribe you a medication to help you sleep at night. Surely that would be nice, right? The point is, you need help. You’re getting help. Now, goodnight.” He turned around and made his way back down the staircase, not bothering to turn off the lights on his way. Knowing Khaled, he would probably stay up a couple more hours, if not all night. This had been going on for three weeks now, after all.

Le Tag List (if you want on or off, no big deal, lmk): @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling @borp0 @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @arobear @whumpty-dumpty-doo @hellodecisionparalysis

[tobiasdrake]

The Hundred Line: Last Defense Academy 09.5 - Report Cards!

Okay the plot is going to shut the fuck up for a moment because I just found our FUCKING REPORT CARDS in the menu.

As we already know, Takumi is the most boring motherfucker ever to set foot on the face of the Earth. A typical Kodaka protagonist.

Also there will apparently be some sort of educational system taking place here in this school. That's weird. Who learns things in a school? Kodaka's talking crazy talk with this one.

Takemaru enjoys "radio exercises", which are a like TV exercise programs except broadcast over the radio. And he dislikes subtlety. That makes sense with what we know about him.

Also he's a Leo, which also makes sense.

Hiruko is surprisingly adorable, which goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover. She likes small, cute animals and dislikes spicy foods.

This suggests that the stonewall she's giving us is her professional demeanor, and there is more to her than meets the eye.

She also dislikes indecisive people which... Yeah, that checks out. I can see that already.

Darumi enjoys gore, misery porn, and adult games... So, regular porn but in video game form. And she's bored by life sims. Again, this is all stuff that was already apparent about her. No surprises here.

Eito enjoys cleaning and dislikes... loud noises and ugly things? Oh no. Oh no. Boy Chiaki, are you going to be a judgmental douche? I have a bad feeling about this.

Tsubasa likes radial engines and dislikes static electricity, both of which clearly stem from her history as a mechanic working in her Grandpa's garage.

Gaku likes cooking, so at least he does have some upsides to him. He dislikes poverty and "working for free". He's a baby Capitalist in addition to being an Incel.

Even his Report Card makes me want to throw him in a woodchipper.

It's hard to get a feel for Kako because Ima won't let her fucking speak for even five seconds, but her Dislike is "Anything That Hurts Ima" so she does at least return some of the affection he has for her.

Her Like is "Complex Flavors", however. So she has a life and interests and personality outside of Ima. She is not obsessed to a deranged degree the way he is.

Shouma likes "Dark, Damp Places", which might be a factor of his self-esteem but he could also just enjoy the aesthetic. Who knows.

He dislikes "Convenience Stores at Night" which seems awfully specific. Makes me wonder if there's some trauma there?

Anyways, we also have height here so here's the team from tallest to shortest.

Takemaru - 192 cm (6'04")

Eito - 184 cm (6'00")

Hiruko - 181 cm (5'11")

Takumi - 168 cm (5'06")

Darumi - 164 cm (5'05")

Tsubasa - 162 cm (5'04")

Gaku - 160 cm (5'03")

Ima - 158 cm (5'02")

Kako - 153 cm (5'00")

Shouma - 116 cm (4'00)

You know, I actually had Shouma pegged shorter than that. Also surprised that Tsubasa is shorter than Darumi, and that Ima and Kako are so small.

And then we have weights, so here's heaviest to lightest.

Takemaru - 82 kg (181 lbs)

Eito - 66 kg (146 lbs)

Hiruko - 58 kg (128 lbs)

Takumi - 57 kg (126 lbs)

Gaku - 53 kg (117 lbs)

Tsubasa - 51 kg (112 lbs)

Darumi - 47 kg (104 lbs)

Ima - 43 kg (95 lbs)

Shouma - 42 kg (93 lbs)

Kako - 41 kg (90 lbs)

Takemaru is built like a truck and I won't argue with that. But.

Hiruko is two pounds heavier than Takumi despite having 5 inches on him and being the resident Halara Nightmare-esque ultra-badass.

Tsubasa has 8 lbs on Darumi despite Darumi being slightly taller because, as a mechanic, Tsubasa's more physically fit. But somehow this little weasel Gaku, who's shorter than both of them and isn't exactly impressing me on the physique, is heavier than Tsubasa.

Shouma, at least, makes sense to fit between Ima and Kako despite being so small 'cause he's pudgy. He's a pudgy boi and that makes him heavier than someone with Now and Then's builds would proportionately be at his size.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 5.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: This chapter is going to contain some very dark and graphic scenes. Please read carefully. I'm really happy that you guys are enjoying the story! The comments are feeding me and motivating me so much, I really do appreciate the support. Also, you can read it here on my archive account as well!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

All through the night, Shuri had worked on dissecting the Winter Soldier's brain. When Bucky had swung by the lab in the morning, it seemed as though Shuri hadn't slept at all. Her space buns were now down, the freely-hanging braids swinging wildly as she walked around the cryostasis pod with quick paces.

Her brows were furrowed with annoyance, the princess cursing to herself in Xhosa as Okoye stood by, raising a brow at the profanities Shuri was listing off. Bucky was concerned, greeting her with a tilt of his head and holding out a cup of coffee for her.

"Good morning. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I admittedly lost track of time, but the programming is proving to be difficult. Every time I seem to get past the encryption, another layer pops up and tries to activate her. However, since she's in cryostasis, the activation is failing."

Bucky nodded, humming thoughtfully as he stared at the woman within the pod.

"Seems like they updated their programming to avoid another...well, me."

Shuri nodded, huffing as she glanced back at him.

"Exactly. I knew that she was going to be complex, but I didn't think to realize that they would install safeguards in such a way. I can do it, it's just frustrating."

Okoye hummed, quirking her brow slightly before snorting in amusement when Shuri glared back at her.

"She has been yelling profanities for the last two hours."

Shuri waved her off, not even gracing Okoye with a response. Instead, she gestured Bucky over, expanding the hologram of the woman's mind. Throughout her mind, Bucky could see pulses of...something...happening, and he glanced at Shuri when the woman asked.

"What do you see?"

"Um, it looks like there's a lightning storm flashing through her mind."

Shuri smiled, nodding.

"Precisely. The synapses of her brain are firing rapidly despite her being in cryostasis. Do you understand what this means?"

Bucky was quiet, shrugging slightly, and Shuri rolled her eyes before saying.

"She is dreaming, White Wolf."

Bucky was surprised, asking Shuri as she began to poke around the hologram, pulling up a couple sections.

"Wait, she is?"

"Yes, and with my technology, I've been able to see into these dreams."

Her expression became grim, eyes darting away from Bucky, and Bucky understood what her expression was saying. Whatever Shuri was able to see hadn't been pleasant in the slightest, which in a morbid way, Bucky wasn't even surprised. Almost wordlessly, she pulled up a particular image, explaining.

"I was only able to get glimpses and small portions of dreams due to HYDRA's programming kicking me out repeatedly, but from what I saw...it was truly horrific. The things that HYDRA did...the things it seems that she is remembering, or perhaps never forgot, are...they are horrific, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky frowned deeply as looked at the images that Shuri was showing him. Some were of a familiar cell wall, some were of blurred faces that were familiar yet unknown at the same time, and there was one that made his stomach churn.

Blood. There was so much blood covering her naked thighs and pooled beneath her. Shuri had taken the time to carefully blur the soldier's vagina from view, but Bucky didn't even need to see it to know what they had done.

You're a super soldier, they would say. You can take it.

Bucky bit his tongue while his back stiffened considerably, and Shuri brought up a clip that began to play automatically. It seemed to be of a previous killing, the man on the ground looking up at the soldier fearfully as a bloody hand came into view.

He seemed to be begging, crying hard as the body of a child whose head was crushed and gushing with blood and destroyed brain matter laid within his lap. The soldier was holding a gun, and when the gun was fired, the clip ended.

"Were you able to do this with me as well?"

Bucky's tone was quiet, his words almost a whisper as he looked away from the clip, his breathing starting to accelerate slightly as Shuri swiped the clip away quickly.

"Definitely, but not to this extent. However, our work together helped to shape my technology into this."

Shuri gestured to the hologram with her hand before she glanced back at Bucky, pursing her lips as she grabbed another image and maximized it, showing the image of a blurry paper-crochet butterfly and small hands that were in the process of decorating the art project.

"There are a few memories that I was able to get to, though they are slightly miniscule; almost useless to us in figuring out who she is."

Another video came up, a short 10 second clip that showed the soldier in what looked to be a graduation or awards ceremony. There was an elderly-looking hand that was lifting a medal before pinning it to her chest, and Bucky's eyes widened.

"Wait a minute...that looks familiar. Can you clear up the image a bit?"

Shuri looked smug before winking as the image cleared, showing a medal that had an inscription engraved onto it. Bucky shook his head in surprise, saying as he uncrossed his arms in surprise.

"No wonder she's a ghost. She worked for the CIA."

The medal that the soldier had been given was for Career Intelligence, a reward that came from exceptional achievements and, if Bucky remembered right, the length of service. Shuri hummed, stating as she crossed her arms and glanced at the woman.

"Not all ghosts are completely untraceable. If I can get deeper into her mind and get more parts of her memories unlocked, I can attempt to figure out who she is a lot easier and faster."

Shuri then shook her head, huffing with frustration.

"The risk that comes with doing so, however, is that once she awakens and her mind is able to be more active, these memories have a chance of coming to her all at once. It will be an overwhelming and horrifying experience for her."

Bucky sighed heavily. If that happened, there was a risk that it could reactivate HYDRA's programming and she would become an active threat, and nobody wanted that.

Hell, his temple was still throbbing.

Bucky then glanced over at Shuri again when Shuri pointed to a hologram of a document with the CIA's official seal, maximizing the image and swiping a few of the scanned documents away.

"Because we know our soldier was a part of the CIA, I scanned through their database to see if I could find anything akin to the Winter Soldier program. While the CIA is involved in a super soldier project, I haven't found anything of use yet. And don't worry, I erased my tracks as soon as I made them."

Shuri smirked with a haughty glint within her eyes, and Bucky chuckled at her. He hummed after mulling through his thoughts for a moment.

"It's nice to know that we're getting closer to knowing who she is, but if you can't get past the firewalls of the algorithm...how would we reactivate her without wiping her?"

"I can put a temporary lock upon her most recent memories from the time she was awakened until now. That lock will slowly deteriorate over time, almost like a dissolvable suture, so it won't be permanent."

That was nice to know, at least. T'Challa's voice made Shuri and Bucky jump from the surprise, the two of them looking back at him as he walked inside of the lab.

"If our Isithunzi worked for the CIA before she became a Winter Soldier and was awarded for her work, then perhaps the next step would be to look at every single employee that was in service within the last 50 years that received recognition from the agency."

He was holding the black book within his hands, and T'Challa placed it down on a table beside one of the original Black Panther suits, the king regarding the two of them with a tired look. Shuri scoffed, waving him off before doing the Wakandan salute.

"Please, you always think so lowly of me. When I discovered this particular memory, I downloaded as much information as I could without tripping the CIA's cyber security systems. There's at least 75 years worth of information here. If we filter out employees that hadn't specifically received a Career Intelligence reward, we lower the number to at least five to 10 years."

Bucky was impressed, and he joked gently.

"You ever thought of becoming a spy?"

T'Challa pursed his lips in annoyance when Shuri laughed loudly.

"Not in your life, White Wolf. I like being my own boss."

"Unless the king says no."

Shuri didn't even grace T'Challa with a response, making the man roll his eyes and shake his head. T'Challa regarded Bucky with a hard gaze, asking him.

"Have you gotten in touch with the Captain to see if Tony or Natasha have found anything as well?"

"Not yet. I was kind of waiting on them to get in touch with me."

T'Challa nodded, and he suggested.

'You should tell the Captain what you have found. I am sure that he is eager to know what we have uncovered."

Bucky nodded despite the cryptic feeling that was twinging T'Challa's words, and he walked out of the lab into a deserted hallway, a couple of the Dora Milaje standing guard. Awkwardly nodding to them in greeting as he walked down the hallway, Bucky slipped out the phone within his pocket and frowned.

Despite the fact that he'd had the thing for a while, Bucky still couldn't quite grasp the fact that touch-screen was a thing. Hell, the last time Bucky had ever used a phone before HYDRA, it was to call his little sister, Rebecca, before he went to Europe with the 107th.

He could still remember the number for the Shelbyville operator, the specific number for Rebecca's telephone, and how calls were logged and billed for at the end of the month. Now, it took just dialing a number directly. Bucky's mind was still having a bit of trouble wrapping around the idea of call operators not really being a thing anymore.

Shaking his head slightly, Bucky called Steve, a quiet part of his mind wondering if Steve had felt this way before as well. The meaningless thought was squandered when Steve answered, sounding a bit out of breath as he spoke.

"Hey, Buck. Any progress yet on the woman?"

Bucky hummed, leaning against the wall as he glanced in the direction of the lab, replying.

"We got a bit of good information. Shuri's technology was able to get through to some parts of the woman's brain and reveal some memories of her. Apparently, she was a part of the CIA before she became a Winter Soldier."

Steve made a noise of surprise, stating.

"That makes things a bit easier. Tony wasn't really able to find a lot, and Natasha hasn't even combed the surface of the databanks we acquired."

"She's a complete ghost, so I don't know if it'll help. There's something else, though..."

Bucky's voice trailed off for a moment, his surprise hitting him again before he informed Steve.

"...the woman's dreaming. Shuri had a live hologram of the woman's brain up, and she said that the synapses of her brain were firing in a way that was common with dreaming."

"Which means the woman might be remembering things...that's good, right?"

The image of the woman's bloodied legs came to Bucky's mind, and he tightened his grip on his phone, muttering.

"I don't...I don't know. Some of the images that Shuri was able to capture of the woman's dreams and memories...they weren't pleasant."

Steve was quiet for a moment, and he replied with a stern tone of voice.

"We'll get this figured out and we'll find out who she is. If not...then we can help her become a new person...a completely clean slate."

Bucky didn't comment on the way that Steve said 'we' and instead rubbed a hand over his face, muttering.

"The CIA seems to have a super soldier project, but it's not confirmed that the CIA had any volunteers that we know of...it's mainly rumors and ideas."

Bucky added as he watched T'Challa and Shuri leave down the opposite hall, their steps quick and purposeful.

"It's possible there were HYDRA agents within that stole information on the serum, or the serum itself, that the CIA was concocting and grabbed some random woman off of the side of the street. They, as well as HYDRA, have the ability to scrub a person completely off of the radar, and nobody is gonna be looking for a nobody."

Steve was firm, and Bucky knew the man had to be shaking his head at him as Steve slightly scolded him.

"That's not true. There's always going to be someone...we just don't know if that someone is alive or dead. According to that book we found, she's been an active soldier for HYDRA since 1985, and who knows how long she was there before she was created. 30 years is a long time."

"Yeah? Try 70."

Steve was quiet, and Bucky apologized quietly, revealing gently.

"Sorry...I'm sorry...it's just...it's a lot."

Steve's voice was gentle with patience, making Bucky furrow his brows as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I know, Bucky, but I'm with you till the end of the line. You know you can call me at any time and talk to me."

"I know. I'm with you till the end of the line, too, pal."

Steve then groaned gently when the sound of an explosion went through the phone, and he was quick to inform Bucky.

"Hey, I gotta go. Queens just crashed in. Literally. Call me if you get any updates, and I'll call you if I get one first."

Before Bucky could respond, the line went dead, and Bucky shook his head and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Walking back into the lab, Bucky came to stand in front of the cryostasis pod.

Hands within his pockets, he stared at the woman, gazing at the scars that covered her lower jaw and neck, and he watched as the live feed of her brain began to become active again.

An alert showed up along with a video, and Bucky was astounded to realize that it was a live feed of the dream the woman was currently having. It was a bit jarring to watch, bits and pieces becoming jumbled and blurry, and then it began to become clear.

The woman was standing before a man that Bucky knew very well, his face crystal clear to him and sparking rage deep within his chest. Bucky watched as Rollins spoke to her, and though there was no audio to be able to hear what he was saying, Bucky knew it wasn't pleasant.

Rollins seemed angry, walking back and forth in front of her before striking her down with a baton, the view shifting to the floor as the soldier fell and blood splattered onto the ground as if the woman had coughed.

From there, it only got worse, and Bucky had to turn away the second the soldier began to unbuckle the man's belt with bloodied hands, his anger becoming too much. Anger, regret, recognition, it was too much for Bucky to handle.

He could feel his chest restricting, could feel the oxygen becoming harder to breathe, and a tingling sensation began to grow within his toes and fingers.

Flashes began to appear within his own mind, images of the Enforcer's hosing his naked body with ice-cold water before they began to touch him; reaching for places he didn't want to be touched.

He could feel their teeth in his flesh, could hear the echoes of their taunts as they laughed menacingly, and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as he began to tremble and feel disgusted by his own body. A voice within his head began to speak to him gently; familiar and comforting as it guided him.

Breathe, Bucky.

In and out. Slowly. You are not their tool anymore. They can't hurt you. You're free.

Bucky repeated the words in his head over and over, as many times as he could.

I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I am James Buchanan Barnes. I am Bucky.

Swallowing thickly, it took a little while for his heartrate to settle, and he stood upright, rubbing his chest slightly. Closing his eyes, Bucky could feel the tears starting to well up within his eyes, and he took a few more deep breaths.

Turning back to the screen, he was thankful that the image was gone. Instead, the woman seemed to be dreaming of a wooded area, the point-of-view looking down at a plaque that was placed within stone In the peripheral vision, there was a little kid's hand that was grabbing at one of the flowers that was surrounding the plaque.

It was so peculiar to Bucky to the point that he was completely jarred out of his panic. Squinting, he began to realize that this plaque was familiar, especially when the name on the plaque became clear.

Meltzer Woods.

He knew that name and place. In fact, Bucky could recall the trails like the back of his hand, could still smell the wildflowers, and if Bucky really thought hard enough, he could still hear the way his mother scolded him as Rebecca became upset by Bucky teasing her.

"Come, now, James. Leave your little sister alone."

He could still remember the way Rebecca had squealed, though time had taken away what exactly she had panicked over. He recalled that his mother had placed her hands on her hips, giving him a stern gaze when Bucky had talked back to her; exasperated as Rebecca began to cry.

"But Ma, we're in the woods! Of course there's going to be bugs!"

"Now, don't you give me that lip. You don't want your father to hear, do you?"

The memory slowly faded, but Bucky was too floored to care.

What had the soldier been doing in Shelbyville, Indiana? Did she know the place like he did? Was this from a time before she had been with HYDRA?

"You look as though you have seen a ghost!"

Shuri was back, giving him an odd look as Bucky stared at the woman in the cryostasis pod, and all Bucky could respond with was-

"I think I did."

-

STORY NOTES: Shuri has been working endlessly to get past HYDRA's programming. She is verbally and visibly frustrated, which Bucky becomes concerned about as he greets her. Shuri reveals that she had lost track of time because of HYDRA's programming continuously throwing up more firewalls that try to activate the soldier every time she managed to break through another.

Bucky comments that HYDRA seems to have updated their algorithms since his departure. Shuri then shows Bucky a live feed of the digital rendition of the soldier's brain, telling Bucky to list off what he observes. Bucky observes that the activity within the brain looks like a lightning storm, which Shuri agrees and elaborates.

It is revealed that the soldier is currently dreaming despite being in cryostasis, and Shuri reveals that she has developed a technology that allows her to be able to show what a person is dreaming about. Using this technology on the soldier, however, reveals the gruesome treatment HYDRA inflicted and the brutality of the Winter Soldier.

Shuri's technology is able to access and project dreams in the same way, and she shows Bucky a memory the soldier had about receiving a medal. Bucky recognizes the medal, and it's revealed that the Winter Soldier had been involved with the CIA at some point on a professional level.

T'Challa makes a recommendation to Bucky to get in touch with Steve, and Bucky agrees. He reflects on the advancements of communications technology and how he had to speak to an operator to call his sister when he was still int he ARMY. Bucky then tells Steve about what Shuri had found, and he also reveals that the woman is dreaming.

After his phone call, Bucky goes back to the lab and is angry when he is shown a memory that the soldier is currently remembering of her Handler, which Bucky recognizes as Jack Rollins. Bucky begins to experience a PTSD episode where he begins to remember when Enforcers sexually assaulted him during a hose-down.

Once he calms down, Bucky recognizes a place that the soldier is now dreaming of: Meltzer Woods. He recalls a memory of him, his parents, and his little sister going to the trails all of the time since Meltzer Woods is located in his hometown of Shelbyville, Indiana, and when Shuri comes in and comments about how Bucky looks as though he's seen a 'ghost', he comments that he might have. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Isithunzi - Xhosa for [the] shadow/shade

TAGLIST: @mgchaser @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @aash3

[trucywright]

i finished listening to the third river song audio which features kovarian. some interesting details/info

river has at least 2 sets of siblings who were made from her embryonic dna. they share bio-energy signatures and are slightly telepathic with each other

the first set escaped after demon’s run. one became a religious cult leader and convinced the others that they should die and regenerate constantly.

the leader is lake, who regenerates into lily. river meets lily then finds lake who kills lily. river kills lake who then regenerates. the sheer despair river has about this is immense.

river had told lily that she was safe and river wouldn’t let anything hurt her ever again.

she also was the one to name lily.

river was looking for them because she was tired of being alone. she describes the doctor as a ghost who comes in and out of her life when he pleases.

she calls up the 5th doctor to travel with him and he doesn’t question it at all?? he legit just agrees and let’s her on board.

river is the reason the doctor says “timey wimey.”

the second set of river siblings includes brooke, who’s sent to be the 5th doctor’s companion and then kills him in a restaurant outside time and space.

she tried killing him before this too due to a potion that kills based on if someone hates you. this failed because river loved the doctor back to life.

one of river’s other sisters gets really into the idea of rewards point cards. at the end, river asks the 5th doctor to drop her sister off at a rewards card planet.

river can’t kill kovarian. kovarian programmed river and her siblings so if they try to harm her, they’ll always miss or mess up in some other way.

the implication is that kovarian raised river then put her in the spacesuit and sent her to the orphanage. she was never in the orphanage and outside the suit simultaneously before the doctor arrives.

river lists experiences that her parents missed from her childhood. kovarian says “i deserved them” and calls herself river’s mum.

river’s bedroom was called the nightmare room by kovarian. it’s filled with toys that are also weapons.

river says she knew how to use throwing stars before she could walk, and kovarian says her first words were “kill the doctor.”

kovarian casually uses electric shock to torture river’s sisters. the nightmare room is also now a punishment room if the sisters disobey her.

the sisters join up at the end and defeat kovarian. brooke is intending to indirectly torture kovarian with an electric room for the rest of her life, since none of them can directly attack her. kovarian pathetically begs river to save her but river walks away.