#well. i spent some time with a super nice team afterwards so I feel my faith restored | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pollymorgan · 4 months ago

Text

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 5

Warnings: Of course, there's still a big age difference and Negan is an asshole. Smut!

-Several months later-

I am probably the only student in the entire school who looks forward to Monday every time. Even though the classes before my sports block are always a little torture and never seem to end. But I am rewarded for my patience. After the double lesson, Negan and I always spend a good hour together, secretly. Every time I sneak back into the hall, where he impatiently waits for me.

Otherwise, we only see each other occasionally by chance on the schoolyard or in the hallway, and every time I feel this incredible tingling in my stomach. By now, I have to admit to myself, I am incredibly in love with him. Even though I tried to suppress it for so long.

My evenings, or rather nights, are often spent playing online games with Negan, while we talk for hours on the phone and discuss everything possible.

Only two topics we successfully avoid. Firstly, his wife and secondly, what this whole thing between us is or could become.

It was also on one of those late evenings when he suggested that I join the cheerleading group, whose football team he coached in his free time.

"Me? A cheerleader?" I asked in surprise into the speaker of my phone, while the situation on the PlayStation was getting pretty intense.

"Of course, you are super athletic and phenomenally beautiful!" he stated without hesitation.

I laughed, "So that's what you're into? Bouncing girls in short skirts?"

"No, I'm into you ... bouncing in a short skirt..." he stated and added "...even if it won't be easy for me to train the guys with a constant hard-on, but the main thing is that we can see each other more often."

So it happened that I really became a cheerleader, and surprisingly, I even had a lot of fun. Not only because I could see Negan more often, but also because the other players and cheerleaders were really nice.

After a while, our team was so good that we planned our first away game. It was so far from our hometown that we rented a bus and planned to stay in a hostel afterwards.

Everyone was pretty nervous and trained hard. The boys, as well as us girls. Even Negan could be seen tensing up as the game approached. Because if there's one thing he absolutely hates, it's embarrassing himself. So he put a lot of pressure on the players during training.

But his worry was unfounded. We won our first away game, and we won big. The joy was immense.

-The evening after the game-

Together we enter our small accommodation, which more resembles a youth hostel than a hotel. We never thought our team would actually win, so the mood was very high.

We settle into our rooms and agree to meet in the common room right after to celebrate the victory. I share my hotel room with Layla. She is also a cheerleader and a few years older than me. I am once again the youngest, but by now, I don't mind. We get along great, and she has become like my best friend. I trust her, and we tell each other everything, well, almost everything, I can't tell her about Negan, which is really hard. After all, he is constantly on my mind.

After freshening up a bit, we head to the common room with the others. It consists of a few seats, a large TV, and a foosball table.

As soon as I enter the room, I look around, but Negan is not here. As I scan the room with my eyes, I see Liam fixating his gaze on me and interrupting his conversation. Liam is a pretty good player on the team, and I have noticed that he has been seeking my attention for some time, which doesn't bother me because he is really funny and considerate. I enjoy spending time with him - of course, only as friends.

Suddenly, he jumps up and stands right in front of me, "Want to go outside for a smoke?" he asks with a smile on his lips.

I shrug nonchalantly, "Sure, why not?"

So we walk down the narrow hallway, at the end of which is a tiny balcony that can only accommodate 3-4 people. Together we step out onto it, and Liam immediately holds out his pack of cigarettes. I gratefully take one and let him light it for me. After the first deep drag, I smile, "Thanks for a great game!"

He grins somewhat embarrassed and waves it off, "Oh, that was a team effort..."

"Don't be so modest!" I encourage him and tap his shoulder, feeling how his confidence is boosted even more.

"Well, you also cheered us on pretty well, so we can only be motivated..." he states, and I notice how he comes much closer to me, "I'm really glad you're here..." he adds in a soft voice.

Speechless, I look at him, as I hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn so quickly.

Suddenly, I startle as the silence is interrupted by the opening of the balcony door.

My heart races even higher when Negan suddenly stands right next to us. He must have just come out of the shower, as his hair is still slightly damp and a wonderful scent of soap and aftershave surrounds him.

Instinctively, I move away slightly from Liam, which is not easy on this small balcony. After all, the three of us are quite cramped.

Without saying anything, Negan snatches the cigarette from my hand and puts it in his mouth. He holds it between his lips and addresses Liam in an annoyed tone, "What's wrong with you?! No cigarettes for minors."

Liam raises his hands in resignation, "Coach, Sam is not a kid anymore... she's almost 19."

"Exactly, almost 19 means 18! So, three damn years until she's 21... or have you become too stupid to do math because all the blood has rushed elsewhere in your head?" he asks calmly.

Liam stutters slightly, "That... that's really not fair," and I have to try not to laugh.

Negan is definitely jealous!

I've experienced a few situations where I thought he was, but always convinced myself that I was imagining things. But now the whole situation is pretty clear, and I secretly enjoy it because it shows me that he really cares about me.

"That's not fair," Negan mimics him.

Offended, Liam shakes his head and extinguishes his cigarette on the wall beside him.

"I'm going back inside, are you coming, Sam?" he asks me, trying to ignore Negan as best as he can.

I briefly catch Negan's gaze and say uncertainly, "Oh... um... you go ahead... I'll be right there... the fresh air is really nice right now."

Annoyed, Liam leaves the balcony, and Negan silently watches through the window as he walks down the long hallway. As soon as he disappears from sight, Negan turns to me.

"That sleazy guy is trying to get in your pants!" he exclaims.

"Mh, could be..." I say, unfazed.

Negan looks at the long hallway once more, and when he sees that no one is there, he pulls me close and kisses my lips.

Slightly surprised by the risky move, it takes me a few seconds to respond to the kiss. But now I don't want to let go of his lips at all. It feels so good to finally feel him again. Seeing him constantly but not being able to touch him is really torture for me.

As we separate, I wipe my lipstick from his mouth.

"Pretty risky, don't you think?" I remark.

He looks at me with a broad grin, "I know how these daring actions make you wet, don't I? And besides, I had to make it clear who you belong to, my sweet! Oh, I have something for you..."

"For me?" my smile turns into a questioning look.

I watch in amazement as he pulls a small black box from his jeans and opens it skillfully. Inside is a delicate golden chain with a small heart pendant featuring a sparkling blue stone. My heart starts to race. Negan has never given me anything, not even flowers. And now he's standing there with a beautiful necklace in his hand.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you... so, what do you say? Do you like it?" he asks.

I take a deep breath and try to hold back my tears with all my might. Quickly, I take a critical look towards the hallway, and when I see that no one is there, I wrap my arms around him.

"You didn't have to do this, it's beautiful..." my words rush out before I kiss him.

-Several hours later-

Some guys are sitting in front of the TV watching some sports show, while the rest of us are gathered around a large table, engaging in lively conversation over a few beers.

Everyone is in this small common room, except Negan.

I catch myself playing with my new necklace and thinking about him. Suddenly, I'm pulled out of my thoughts when Liam loudly announces, "Okay, guys, spin the bottle!"

Everyone cheers, but I ask somewhat annoyed, "Are you serious, isn't that a bit silly?"

But everyone protests, so I resign myself to my fate, and we start the game.

After a few rounds with typical tasks and questions, the door suddenly opens, and Negan walks in.

Some startle and try to hide the hard liquor. Even my heart pumps, but for different reasons, suddenly very strongly.

"I'm officially off duty, so if anyone starts crying because they miss their mommy or gets a paper cut, please don't come to me... and anything else you plan on doing tonight, I don't care..." With this announcement, he grabs a full beer from our table and briefly catches my eye before opening the bottle on the edge of the table and sitting down with a few other guys in front of the TV.

Now I can only see his back.

"Let's continue!" someone suddenly interrupts the silence at the table, "Whoever the bottle points to, has to kiss their neighbor, whether it's the left or right one, they can decide!"

The bottle is spun with full force, and of course, this time it points to me.

"Haha... Sam!" everyone cries out excitedly, and I immediately look to Negan, who discreetly turns around and looks at us. To my left is Liam, and to my right is Layla. I playfully take my time with my decision, even though it's clear from the start. After some hesitation, I slowly lean in towards Layla and take her chin between my fingers. We grin at each other before locking eyes and our lips gently touch. I feel her tongue lightly press against my lips, which initially startles me, but it actually feels quite good, and the thought that Negan is watching us closely spurs me on even more. I let my tongue cautiously explore hers, and the kiss becomes more intimate, with the comments around us getting louder. We take our time exploring each other's mouths hesitantly. Only then do I slowly pull away and give her a loud smack on her full lips as a final touch.

I pause for a moment and look at Negan, who is just turning back to the TV.

"Whoever the bottle points to has to reveal the most unusual place they've had sex..." I say after a brief pause and spin the bottle.

But I don't get to hear the answer because my phone vibrates in my lap. Curious, I look at the display and see a text from "Mister N." My heart skips a beat. I glance at him, but can only see his back. Eagerly, I lean back, making sure no one can see my screen.

"You naughty girl! 🔥" I read and quickly respond.

"Didn't you enjoy the little show? 😉"

"I can't say no. 😉 I just have some worry about leaving you alone with Layla tonight after what I just saw!"

"Don't worry! My pussy belongs only to you! And she misses you so much..🥺"

"I miss her too! How much I would love to run my mouth over her right now and catch every sweet drop with my tongue... I know how much you love that, right?..."

We exchange a few more messages back and forth, even though we are sitting just a few meters away from each other. Each message from him makes my lower body tingle more and my throat gets drier.

-Later in the hotel room-

Layla is already pretty out in bed, while I disappear into the bathroom. When I step out of the shower, I am wearing nothing but Negan's necklace. I look at myself in the mirror, then pick up my phone from the edge of the sink and quickly take a selfie covering my nipples.

"The necklace is so beautiful! 😍" I type underneath and nervously send it to Negan.

My heart is pounding wildly as I brush my hair and keep glancing at the screen. But there is no response. Is he already asleep? I put on my pajamas, and as I'm about to pull the top over my head, I hear the reassuring sound of my vibrating phone.

"Damn, sweetheart. That's not the only thing beautiful in the photo! 💕 Do you know how much I love your enchanting titties? Come on, show me more of them!" he texts.

Unconsciously, I smile immediately and after a few seconds of hesitation, I pull the straps of my top down, fully exposing my breasts, and once again set the camera function on my phone. I take a few photos and quickly choose one to send to Negan.

"Sweetheart, you are way too good to me! Can you imagine how rock hard my cock is right now because of you?"

I type, "No, show it to me, please!" on my phone, and as I send the message, my cheeks glow so much that I feel they might burst any moment.

It doesn't take long before I actually receive a picture of his hard arousal. I never thought something like this would turn me on, but with Negan, it's different. I instinctively squeeze my legs together and bite my lower lip.

"I really want him deep inside me right now..." I type back.

"That's all I can think about right now, damn! We should sleep now, my sweet! The sooner we can be close again..." he writes.

"You're right... pleasant dreams!" I reply, already missing him terribly in that moment. Disappointed, I set my phone aside and put my clothes back on. Then I step out of the small bathroom and, just as I'm about to say something to Layla to distract myself, I open the door. But she doesn't react. Confused, I look at the bed and see her sleeping peacefully.

"Hey Layla?" I ask a bit louder, but there's no response. I look at her once more and make sure she's really fast asleep. Then, quietly, I leave the hotel room and tiptoe barefoot down the hallway. Feeling slightly disoriented, I look at the room numbers on the doors. Of course, I remember Negan's room number. As I get closer to the number, I feel my body pumping with adrenaline. Finally, standing right in front of it, I hesitate for a moment. The risk is quite high. But then I timidly knock on Negan's door, not sure what makes my heart beat faster - the fear of getting caught or the excitement of being able to embrace Negan in my arms.

In the dark hallway, clad in a short pajama shorts and the matching tank top, I look around anxiously. Eventually, I hear movement behind the door and the doorknob turning, sending even more adrenaline rushing through my veins. I try to appear as calm as possible as Negan opens the door a crack and looks me up and down, his grin growing wider with every passing second.

I, too, let my eyes wander. He's wearing only dark gray boxers. Unconsciously, I bite my lower lip as my eyes travel over his slim, defined upper body. His dark chest hair and tattoos make him even more attractive.

On Mondays, after sports, I don't often get the chance to admire him like this. Everything always has to be quick, and we only take off the essentials, so I savor this sight even more. I take a deep breath and meet his gaze once again.

Innocently and softly, I say, "Mr. Smith, I can't fall asleep..."

He slowly licks his lips, and his dark eyes begin to sparkle. Leaning casually against the door frame with one arm, he asks, "Oh, my poor girl, what can I do for you?"

A smile tugs at my lips, and I try to keep my composure and stay in my role. Nervously, I nibble on the fingernail of my right thumb.

"Could you maybe... fuck me hard?" I ask in a pleading tone.

He grabs my wrist firmly and pulls me into his room with a swift motion. As soon as he closes the door, he presses my back firmly against it and starts kissing me passionately.

"I've been wanting to do this the whole damn time," he whispers into my open mouth, just before our tongues meet again.

His tall body presses against mine, and only the thin fabric of my pajamas prevents me from feeling his skin against mine. His right hand travels from my cheek, over my neck, to my shoulder. Skillfully, he takes hold of the strap of my top and slowly pulls it down, fully exposing my left breast. I let out a soft moan as he takes it in his large hand and massages it with considerable pressure. My nipple is caught between his index and middle fingers, and his firm grasp makes it harden. His more dominant touches, which I have yearned for, send a warm sensation directly to my lower abdomen.

"We don't have much time! I want you deep inside me. Please, Negan, I need your hard cock..." I beg him softly. This is not only the absolute truth, but I also know how much he enjoys it when I ask him like this.

With a satisfied grin, he leans his upper body back a bit and lets his dark, sparkling eyes roam over my body.

"You look like a sweet angel, but such dirty words come out of your mouth... My dear, you have no idea how incredible you are! Come on, get on the bed, but undress completely first," he says, smiling, taking a step back to make room for me.

I look at him and remove my top. The way he looks at me with so much desire excites me even more. Slowly, I also rid myself of my shorts and panties, standing completely naked in front of him. Then, I confidently walk past him. His intense gaze feels like it's physically touching me. I'm just about to sit on the bed when he speaks up.

"Oh no, get on all fours... Show me your sweet ass..."

His direct command makes my pussy twitch, and I know he enjoys the fact that I immediately obey his command. So, without hesitation, I turn around and climb onto his bed, ending up in the middle. I stretch out my bottom even more, feeling Negan getting behind me. He places his hand on my back and firmly presses my upper body down. My face presses into the pillow as I grip the sheets tightly.

I feel his teeth on my right buttock and his beard scratching against my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I can sense his warm breath on my sensitive skin. I can tell he's grinning from my reaction. Then, his hand glides lightly along my inner thigh, moving higher, causing me to spread my legs a bit more. Just before reaching my most intimate area, he pauses and then moves back down. Disappointed, I let out a protest.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asks mockingly.

"Touch my pussy, please..." I plead in a whispering tone.

He immediately grabs both cheeks of my bottom and pulls them wide apart.

"Oh man, you're practically dripping..." he states contently, "... you look so damn hot..". With those words, he buries his face between my legs. His warm tongue leisurely licks through my slit, catching every drop until he reaches my entrance. Slowly, he penetrates me.

Everything in me tightens, my body trembles under his touch as if I'm about to explode.

"Negan, that feels so good..." I moan softly.

With a gentle kiss right on my center, he pulls back.

After giving me a rather hard slap, he then digs his fingers into my butt firmly.

My whole body is addicted to him, to his touch, his tongue, his voice. I want him so badly.

"I want you inside me..." I say, unable to think of anything else.

"First, show me where you want my hard cock, my dear. Come in with your fingers..." he instructs. "I want to see them disappear into your sweet wet pussy."

Without hesitation, I move my hand between my legs and moisten my index and middle fingers with my arousal before sliding them inside me.

"So good..." Negan whispers behind me. Then, I feel him slowly press his index finger into me as well, widening me further. Once his finger is fully inside me, he starts massaging my swollen clitoris with his thumb. My moans grow louder with each passing moment. His index finger is pressed closely to mine inside me, and the more he massages my clit, the more everything inside me tightens, a sensation we both feel clearly.

"Do you feel how good you are...? So damn warm and tight..." he murmurs.

"I'm going to come, Negan..." I pant.

"I know, my dear, I know... come while our fingers are inside you..."

His rubbing on my clit intensifies, and I can barely hold myself up on my knees. My legs tremble as I experience such a powerful orgasm that it takes my breath away.

65 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!!

I love your imagines. You’re very talented 🤍🤍

If you can, I would love to read a imagine with fq where he and his girlfriend ended up, but they kept loving each other, but they don’t know about it. She could be a journalist and eventually have to interview him or something like that

I've spent the last few months trying to avoid the paddock at all costs because I don't think I can handle seeing Fabio just yet. The two of us dated for about a year and a half and everything was wonderful we rarely fought, we always communicated with each other and we loved each other. That's why when we came to the decision that it would be best for us and our careers if we separated it was really hard. Not a day had gone by since where I haven't thought about Fabio. I think about him when I make his favourite food, I think about him when I got to bed as I miss having him next to me and I think about him whenever I do something at work as I know how proud he would be.

My attempt to avoid the paddock has lasted only 2 months as not only does my work want me to go and interview some of the younger riders to write about the future of the sport but while with Fabio I became super close with Tony Arbolino and he's been begging me to come to a race since the breakup. For a while I kept saying no but now the time has come where I can't avoid it anymore which is why I'm sat in my hotel room thinking about how this weekend it's going to go and how I'm going to react if I see Fabio. Every possible scenario has run through my mind along with some very unrealistic ones but in each scenario all I can see is it being very awkward and then me crying afterwards which is exactly why I haven't wanted to go.

As much as I really don't want to I know I have to as I have to work and plus Tony is meeting me in the paddock and I don't want to let him down. Tony knows all about the breakup as he is friends with the both of us so he promised me that he would help me keep my distance from Fabio which I appreciate as for me it's just too soon to be talking to him. Knowing I have someone to talk to and to help me avoid Fabio is making me feel a bit better but I'm still incredibly nervous. On the short walk to the paddock from my hotel I got even more nervous as in the back of my mind I knew at any moment I could see Fabio and have to face the feelings I've been suppressing for the last few months.

When I actually got into the paddock I somehow felt a bit better as Tony was right by the entrance to greet me and as we walked to his garage I could see him keeping an eye out for Fabio which I really appreciated. We made it to his garage safely and he showed me his bike and everything as he joined a new team this season. I enjoyed listening to him telling me everything and it was useful as I have interviews with some moto2 guys later today so having a bit more knowledge will be helpful. Eventually it was time for him to go out on track so I stayed in his garage to watch the session which I haven't done very often as when I was with Fabio he often had to be other places during moto2 or I was having to work so it was nice to actually watch the moto2 bikes out there.

After the session I spoke to Tony for a minute before I had to go to my first interview which I was about to walk to by myself but Tony joined me to keep an eye out which he didn't need to do but I still appreciated it. As its been a while since I've done any in person interviews I was worried that it would be awkward but it actually went really well and I got a lot of information to use. The rest of my day was spent doing much the same as I was either doing an interview or with Tony so I didn't even catch a glimpse of Fabio all day which was a relief although part of me wishes that I could talk to him again and maybe get back together.

~~~~~~~~~~

So far this weekend has actually been really good and I've rediscovered my love for MotoGP which I kind of lost when Fabio and I broke up and I didn't watch the first few races of the season. It has been so nice being back in the paddock and getting to say hi to all the people I haven't talked to in ages as I really did miss all the friends I made. Being here with Tony has also been a lot of fun as I've been able to watch a lot more moto2 and he has introduced me to some other riders who I have been talking to as well. I haven't seen Fabio all weekend either which has been a huge relief especially knowing that today is the last day and after that I won't have to come to a race for probably a few months which will probably be enough time for me to feel comfortable seeing Fabio.

With today being race day I don't have any interviews to do as there is a load of other media for the riders to do so all of my interviews were scheduled for earlier in the weekend. Seeing as I have nothing else to do I get to watch all the races which I haven't done in a long time. Tony invited me to come to the track earlier today so that we could eat breakfast together which was nice as I've been eating alone in my hotel room all weekend which gets kind of depressing after a while. We chatted about the race until he had to go off and get ready for warm up which is when I headed to the garage to be able to watch the session although they aren't long. Once warm up was over it was pretty much about getting ready for the race so Tony had to stay with the team and decide on things like tyres and settings so I went to watch the moto3 race from pit lane by myself.

At some point Tony came to join me and we watched the moto3 race together and then I watched him race from the garage before it was time for MotoGP. Although I have been watching all the session this weekend part of me didn't want to watch the race as I didn't want to see Fabio out there especially if he has a good race as it will just confirm to me that he won't change his mind about the break up. Despite my worries I still watched the entirety of the race and watched Fabio get a good podium which he really deserved although I know he would have wanted to win. I kept watching until my phone started ringing with a call from my boss which of course I had to go and answer as I know he wouldn't call unless it was something important.

"Hello is everything ok?" I asked

"We'll sort of someone has had to go home sick and there's just so much going on do you think you can go and do the interview for the winner we can cover everything else other than that" he said

"Yeah of course I can do that when and where do you need me?" I asked

He told me where to go and that I need to get there as soon as possible so I ran off and text Tony to let him know along the way. As everything was so last minute I didn't even think about the fact that doing the interview meant being in the same room as Fabio but as soon as I realised I got a bit panicked as I wasn't mentally prepared to see him. All weekend I've managed to avoid him and I thought that after the race there was no way that I would see him yet here I am about to enter the same room as him. Although I was really nervous I agreed to do this so I forced myself inside and I went straight to where I was supposed to go ignoring everyone and everything else around me.

I did the interview but as soon as it was over I tried to leave but there was so many people it took me longer than I would have liked which then meant that as I got to the exit I was stood face to face with Fabio. The two of us left at the same time and just kind of smiled awkwardly as he held the door open for me. My heart was racing just being stood near him as this is the first time we have seen each other since the break up. Seeing him just brought back so many emotions as it made me think of the good times we spent together and how I miss them but also the heartbreak of the last few months. So many thoughts were running through my head from just seeing Fabio which just confirmed that I wasn't ready to see him.

"Hey" he said taking me out of my thoughts

"Hi" I replied awkwardly

"So how have you been?" He asked

"I've been fine how about you?" I asked in return

"I'm going to be honest I've been miserable without you" he admitted

Hearing him say that surprised me as every time I've seen him in social media he just seemed so happy. I mean the reason we broke up was so that we could both focus on our jobs and Fabio has been doing so well since we separated that I really thought he wouldn't even think about it. Knowing that Fabio has been as miserable as I have really makes my head spin even more than it already was.

"Really" I questioned

"Yeah I mean racing has been going well but my mind always goes back to you like today when I got that podium I thought about celebrating it with you I've just missed having you with me" he said

"I have been feeling the exact same way I always think about the things we used to do together and when I do something at work I always think about how proud you would be and honestly it's been so hard to even attempt to move on" I admitted

"Then what are we doing if we are both this miserable still after a few months why are we continuing to go on that way" he said

"What are you trying to say?" I asked

"I'm trying to ask if you want to get back together" he said

"As long as you have thought about it properly I would be so happy to get back together" I said trying to hide my excitement

"Well then I'm glad I've got my girl back" he said as a huge smile formed on his face

My excitement couldn't be contained any longer and I just jumped straight into his arms and held onto him incredibly tightly so he couldn't leave me again at least not for a few minutes. We held onto each other for a while before he put me down and pressed a kiss to my lips which was one of the best kisses I've ever had. Seeing as we haven't even spoken in a few months we caught up on what we've been doing and I had to explain why I was even at the race in the first place but after that we went back to exactly how we were before. We were laughing with each other and just talking about anything and everything like we always used to. If you saw us you would have no idea that about 10 minutes ago we were broken up and awkwardly trying to talk to each other.

We walked around together for a moment before I heard footsteps fast approaching from behind us and the next thing I knew Tony had put his arms around the both of us. It took quite a bit of explaining to get him up to speed on what had happened but he was really happy that we were back together and he’s not the only one. The three of us spent a bit of time together before Tony left and Fabio and I got to spend the evening together which meant cuddling up together which was always my favourite thing to do and now I appreciate it even more.

#fabio quartararo fluff #fabio quartararo x reader #Fabio Quartararo #MotoGP #motogp imagines #motogp one shots #motogp fluff

45 notes · View notes

llycaons · 2 years ago

Text

oh lmao some of the cohort asked me how my day was in the locker rooms and I said well girls this was a rough one and one of them was like 'omg was it [her name] and I was like YES and she was like yeah she's like that with everyone she was so mean to me last week and so and so was there for remedial work and she was also mean to that person and I was so relieved thank god it's not just me

#now the mistakes were countless and very silly and very much my own #but I never felt like I had time to think #it was very overwhelming how much she was expecting without communicating #and I wasnt given any support at all even when I was struggling #the other precepter there was much more helpful.#like how do you expect people tp learn if all you do is demand them to do it all perfectly and then act like theyre stupid for not knowing #how to #and also she would just leave thoughout the surgery #I think she had some personal stuff going on but ma'am? this is kind of important #and shes been here forever she knows how to do all of this and shes just mean #I did ask her for feedback and dhe was like where do I begin #I thought maybe it was asking too much to ask her for my strengths #well. i spent some time with a super nice team afterwards so I feel my faith restored #cor.txt

1 note · View note

doubleleoenergy · 3 years ago

Text

Cool for the Summer

Even if they judge, fuck it, I'll do the time. I just wanna have some fun with you.

Pairing: parentsbestfriend!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x parentsbestfriend!Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, use of pet names (princess), mommy kink, daddy kink, mentions of alcohol, y/n is 18, slight size kink, threesome.

Words: 2700 (I’m so sorry, I got carried away)

Summary: One pair of drunken kisses turned to much more. Now at the biggest pool party, y/n is ready for a hot girl summer.

Notes: This is my submission for @agentofbarnes‘s The Agency’s Writing Challenge. I chose to write for dadsbestfriends/momsbestfriend au, secret relationship, and Steve Rogers + Natasha Romanoff. This is the type of sandwich I’d love to be between. I apologize for being such a whore with this.

“Y/N, can you please grab the two bags of ice from the ice chest in the garage? We need to fill up the other coolers before we add the drinks.”

“Yes mom!” Y/N cried out to her mother, tossing a large flamingo floatie into their pool before heading towards the garage. It was their annual Summer pool party, the biggest party of the season for y/n’s parents. Her parents invited all their friends and family, including everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Y/N’s mother and father were both agents with S.H.I.E.L.D. and had been working with the Avengers team closely for years. She remembered visiting the tower when she was nine, a picture of her visit still hanging proudly in her bedroom. It had been years since she personally went to visit, but many of the team members visited her parents often.

That included her super-secret lovers Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.

It happened by complete chance last July. Her parents were on a mission for three weeks, leaving y/n alone to take care of their two dogs and to watch over the house. Of course, her parents were nervous to leave their eighteen-year-old daughter home alone for that long, asking many of their colleagues to stop in occasionally to check in on her. The Friday of their second week gone, y/n had gotten wine drunk, having snuck a bottle of her parents' expensive chardonnay from their wine cellar.

She was halfway through the bottle when they came, Steve and Natasha. They found her dancing to some pop song in the living room, her right hand holding up the bottle of wine to her lips. Steve and Natasha had grabbed the bottle from her hand, but not before she kissed them both; Steve first for a rough kiss and Nat last for a soft one.

Y/N didn’t remember anything the next day, but Steve and Nat showed up again to remind her. About 30 minutes after they had explained what happened the night before Y/N ended up with Nat’s head between her thighs and Steve’s cock in her mouth.

They had spent the next week before her parents came home together. Then afterwards, Steve and Nat told y/n that they had to keep what they had a secret, that no one would understand. They had all hung out a few times before y/n went off to college and then a few times during her college years when she was home on break.

The last time y/n saw Nat and Steve was during her Spring Break, two months ago, and she couldn’t wait to see them at the party. She had worn her skimpiest pink striped bikini for the occasion, ready to show off her hot-girl-summer body.

Y/N lifted one bag of ice on each shoulder, carrying it into the backyard and starting to fill the coolers while her father packed them with an assortment of beer, seltzers, soda, and water. “Honey, are you excited to see everyone now that you’re back from summer break?” Her father asked, wiping a few beads of sweat off his brow.

“Yeah, some more than others.” She muttered, shrugging her shoulders. After fixing up the coolers with her father, y/n helped her parents set out the snacks, decorate the backyard, and bring out the large speakers to play music.

It was already one o’clock when guests started to arrive, parking along their circle drive as well as up and down their street. Y/N was instructed by her father to wait by the back gate and greet the guests as they came in, giving each guest a cheap lei that her mom had ordered from Party City.

Guest after guest, dozens of lei’s later, she spotted them. Nat and Steve drove together, of course, and they looked as striking as always. Nat was dressed in a blood red string bikini top, her cutoff shorts hanging off her hips as she walked. Steve looked incredibly toned in a white t-shirt that clung to his muscles, a pair of red board shorts hugging his thighs to match Nat’s bikini top.

Y/N’s eyes met both their gazes, her figure standing up straighter to accentuate her breasts. Nat and Steve’s eyes trailed up and down her body, Steve’s cock stirring in his shorts.

“Aloha Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff.” She purred; her voice sickly sweet like candy.

“It’s nice to see you again, y/n.” Steve mentioned casually, a large grin spreading across his features. The pair bent forward to receive their lei’s, y/n’s fingers trailing a little longer on each of their neck’s, her nails sending shivers down their spines.

“There’s plenty of drinks and food, and the pool is perfectly chilled. I might take a dip myself.” Y/N gave them a seductive wink before gesturing them in the gate so that she could continue to greet the guests.

Two hours in and the pool party was raging. Y/N’s parents mingled about with the guests, hopping from group to group. As the party continued, Steve and Nat’s eyes followed y/n as she spoke with guests, handed out drinks, and refilled the snacks on the picnic table. They watched the way her ass bounced in her bikini bottoms, how her hips swayed to the music as she danced with a group of friends, and the way her body looked soaking wet as she stepped out of the pool.

She knew what she was doing, trying to rile them up so they’d crack during the party. There were so many guests, what were the chances of anyone even noticing them if they went missing for a while? Y/N needed Steve and Natasha, bad, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get them.

Her body was still dripping wet from the pool, her hair caressing her face. She sauntered across the backyard to one of the coolers, digging her nimble fingers under the ice until she found what she was looking for. Pulling off the wrapper she revealed a red, white, and blue bomb pop, how fitting. Y/N met Steve’s gaze, sashaying her hips back and forth as she stalked towards them.

“Hi Captain, enjoying the view?” She questioned, tilting her head to look up at him. He had about a foot or more on her, making her crane her neck to meet his ocean blue eyes.

“I know I have. What about you, Nat?” He tilted his head to the left, eyes landing on Natasha.

“Definitely. What’cha got there, pretty girl?”

“Just a bomb pop. It’s so hot out, I needed to cool off.” Her lips finally meet the popsicle, engulfing the tip and swirling her tongue around it, a devilish look flashing in her eyes. Natasha clenches her thighs together, thinking of how good it would feel to have the woman’s lips between them.

Y/N teases the popsicle against her lips, pushing it deeper until she gags lightly, her gaze locked with Steve’s own as she does. The same noise she usually made around his cock, he almost pushed her to her knees right then and there. She pulled the popsicle out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the tip.

“You sure you don’t want some?” That was the last straw for Natasha, pulling the stick out of y/n’s hands before tossing the popsicle into the grass beside them. Natasha leans in close, her breath tickling y/n’s ear.

“Go to your room and wait on the bed. Now.” She commanded, pulling away from y/n and changing her expression as to not draw any attention to the throuple. Y/N nodded her head, her own expression flashing with excitement as she moved across the lawn and headed inside her home.

Her bedroom was up on the second floor, away from all the chaos downstairs. Only a few of the guests lingered inside, walking in and out of the first-floor bathroom, some leaning against the kitchen counter in conversation.

Y/N slipped silently up the steps, tiptoeing to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, stealing a quick glance at herself in the mirror. Her hair was slightly wild from her dip in the pool, her body glistening with a mix of sweat and pool water. Y/N walked over to the bed, her head resting against a pillow, her legs bent and open, waiting for her lovers to arrive.

Steve and Natasha made their way into the house ten minutes later, conversing politely with the few guests who still lingered inside, waiting until they walked out towards the rest of the attendees before making their way up the wooden staircase. Steve is the first to make it to the door, opening it and smiling at the sight of y/n splayed out before them.

“My my, princess. You sure know how to rile us both up. Couldn’t even behave until the end of the party you’re that desperate?” Steve tosses his shirt to the floor after Nat shuts and locks the door behind them, the redhead following suit as she started to undress as well.

“She just loves to tease, but she’ll pay for it now.” Nat stalked over to the bed, getting on her knees beside the edge and gesturing y/n with her fingers to join her. Steve stepped out of his board shorts last, his thick cock bouncing against his chest as he moved over to where Natasha was kneeling beside the bed, y/n getting on her knees beside her, still dressed in her bikini.

“Nat, baby, how about you help our princess undress while she keeps her mouth busy on my cock.” He commanded, stroking his length in his right hand. Natasha nodded her head, moving behind y/n and pulling at the string of her bikini top, letting it unravel and slide forward off her chest.

Steve stepped forward, his cock slapping gently against y/n’s cheek. “Go on princess.” Y/N swallows thickly, the size of his cock always surprising her, no matter how many times she saw it. Her hand reached up to stroke his length, her tongue swirling around the tip, eliciting a groan from Steve’s lips.

Natasha busied herself by reaching over y/n’s back to knead and pinch at her perky breasts, y/n’s eyes fluttering shut as she took Steve’s cock into her mouth, her hand moving down to fondle with his balls. She bobbed her head back and forth, grinding her still clothed core against her carpet.

“Aw Steve look, our princess is getting needy.” Nat took a fistful of y/n’s hair into her hand, ripping her off Steve’s cock and tilting her back to make eye contact with her. “You know what to do, a pretty princess like you has to ask for what she wants.”

Y/N whined, bucking her hips up to draw attention to her bikini bottoms. “Please mommy, please touch my pussy.”

Nat hummed in response, releasing her hand from y/n’s hair, pushing her in the direction towards Steve’s cock once again. Y/N wastes no time, opening her mouth and looking up at Steve, her long eyelashes batting coyly. “Daddy, will you fuck my mouth while mommy plays with my pussy?” She asked sweetly.

Steve almost came immediately from her statement, his thumb sweeping lovingly across her lips before his hand moved to grip at her hair, looping it around his hand to lock her in place before sliding her mouth forward and back onto his cock.

Steve started to fuck her face slowly while Natasha moved her hand down to undo the strings of y/n’s bottoms, pulling them out from underneath her before she tossed them across the room. Her hands caress y/n’s hips as Steve moves in and out of her mouth, faster this time. Y/N’s saliva dripped from her mouth and onto the carpet as Natasha snaked her hand down to y/n’s folds, her fingers immediately covered in her slick.

Nat dipped one of her perfectly manicured fingers into her heat, y/n humming around Steve’s cock in response. She continued to work her finger in and out before adding another finger, Natasha’s lips trailing wet kisses down her neck.

“So wet, princess. You want your daddy to fuck your tight cunt?” Nat purred, adding a third finger into her soaking hole. Y/N couldn’t answer, her mouth stuffed full of Steve’s cock, her nose touching his pelvic bone. He held her down, y/n sputtering as tears welled in her eyes, watching her face turn red before he pulled her off abruptly, her body collapsing back against Natasha’s.

Y/N gasped for air, her saliva dripping from her mouth down her chin and bare breasts. Natasha’s fingers sped up inside y/n, her orgasm building fast. “Mommy, may I cum please?” She mewled, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

“Yes princess, cum now. Daddy’s waiting to fuck you.” Her orgasm ripped through her, her walls tightening around Natasha’s fingers as she fucked her through the pleasure. Slowly, her breathing slowed down again, and Natasha removed her fingers from her core. Nat opened her pouty lips, licking y/n’s slick off her fingers happily. “You taste so good, our pretty girl. Now I want you to get on the bed on all fours for daddy.”

Y/N followed the instructions, crawling up onto the bed and getting on her hands and knees, arching her back and sticking up her plump ass. Steve’s hand was soft against her ass cheek, fondling it in his hand as he rubbed his cock against her folds with his other hand. He braced one hand against her back, sliding his cock in slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight cunt swallowing him.

“Always so tight, princess. The prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, mommy?” Steve moved his cock slowly back out of her pussy before slamming in fast, causing y/n to fall forward as she cried out in pleasure.

“It is the prettiest.” Nat agreed, moving onto the bed until her thighs opened, her pussy on full display. She scooted her body until her thighs were on either side of y/n’s head, gripping her chin and pulling her head up to look at her. “Put that pretty mouth to use and make mommy cum.” She instructed, y/n’s tongue sticking out to lick a strip up to Natasha’s clit.

Natasha rested her weight on her elbows, watching y/n swirl her tongue around her clit, moaning at the sight. Steve continued to fuck into y/n, pushing her face deeper into Natasha’s pussy. His cock rocked fast into her, y/n humming with her face against Nat’s cunt.

“That’s it, princess. Let daddy fuck you into mommy’s pussy. You keep that up and you’re going to make me cum on your pretty tongue.” Natasha’s eyes met Steve. “You look so good daddy, so hot when you’re fucking our princess.”

Steve’s breathing was ragged, his hips slapping rapidly against y/n. “Cum on her tongue, mommy. Give our princess your sweet nectar.” Natasha bucked her pussy against her face, hitting her orgasm as y/n licked up all of Nat’s juices that flowed from her. Y/N continued to lap at Natasha, working her through her orgasm as she came on Steve’s cock, her walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, that’s it princess, make a mess on daddy’s cock. Gonna fill this pussy up princess, you deserve it for how happy you made mommy.” Steve thrust twice more before his hips stilled against her ass, groaning as he coated her walls with his cum. He stayed glued to her, pressing soft kisses to her spine as he relaxed his body, finally pulling out of her. His cock was wet with y/n’s cum, her pussy dripping their mixed cum onto the sheets.

“Did so good princess, let’s let mommy clean this up.” On cue, Natasha moved to take Steve’s place behind her, licking at her cunt to indulge in their mixed juices. Y/N’s body relaxed into the bed, letting Natasha clean her up.

Eventually, Natasha finished licking, pulling off to collapse next to y/n, her body spent as well from their escapades. Steve moved beside y/n, laying his head back against the pillow.

“My beautiful girls, I love you both so much. Best pool party I’ve ever attended.”

#agencyswritingchallenge #agentofbarnes #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff #marvel smut #marvel #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #natasha romanoff smut

571 notes · View notes

just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years ago

Text

Birthday Breakfast Shenanigans

Word count: 2700

Warnings: No content warnings, just a warning that this is my first time writing for a different Marvel character and it will probably take some practice till I get it down 😅

This was a request from a lovely anon requesting a Steve x reader fic prompt ! I hope I did it justice!

The sun had just begun to rise when you dragged yourself out of bed. Much earlier than you usually got up.

You were a terrible grump in the mornings typically. The other Avengers knew very well that they needed to steer clear of you until you’d had at least half your morning coffee, and even then it was a risk to talk to you. There was only one day of the year you made an exception (ok, maybe two – Christmas morning was a pretty close second), and that was a certain super soldier’s birthday.

You and Steve had been dating for nearly a year now, although you’d been invested in the relationship for much longer than that. Since the day you’d met him, that very first day you had come to live with the other Avengers in the tower, Steve had gone out of his way to make you feel welcome. He was the one who made sure you were always invited to movie nights or game nights with the team, even when you felt too shy to involve yourself in conversation. You began to develop a little crush on the captain pretty quickly, and you only fell hard and fast from there.

It wasn’t until much later that Steve began to realize you had feelings for him. He may have had enhanced strength and superior intelligence, but when it came to romance, well… it had been a while since he’d had any experiences in that department. It was Bucky who finally figured it out – the brooding, darker-spirited super soldier spent a great deal more of his time observing others in silence, and he’d noticed your lingering gazes and your shy smiles long before his best friend had even recognized you were spending more time with him than the others. Once Bucky pointed it out to him, Steve began to realize how much he, too, enjoyed your company. Not to mention your gorgeous eyes.

He’d been the one to ask you out on a date. He took you out to a nice dinner, somewhere you could get all dressed up and fancy. Afterward, he’d taken you on a leisurely stroll through the city, pausing on the middle of a bridge under the city lights to ask you to be his. You’d thrown your arms around him with a resounding yes, taking the liberty of initiating your first kiss. You’d been inseparable ever since.

This was Steve’s first birthday he’d celebrated while in a relationship with you. It had to be perfect, something special that let him know you cared. Steve typically got up before the sun rose, often leaving the warmth of your bed to go work out before returning, showering, and crawling back into bed where you were still sound asleep. So, today, you decided you’d rise before the early riser, reluctantly leaving the safety of his arms to go make breakfast in bed before he awoke.

Steve was easy to please when it came to breakfast. A stack of pancakes, a pad of butter to top it off, drenched in maple syrup until it drizzled down the sides of the fluffy cakes and pooled along the bottom of the stack. A glass of orange juice. A mug of freshly brewed coffee, black with just a teaspoon of sugar for sweetness. You gathered all of the breakfast items onto one tray, topping it off with the birthday card you’d selected for him at the store. His birthday gift would come later, after both of you were more awake and had gotten out of bed.

Keeping your footsteps light so as not to jar him awake, you wandered back into the bedroom with the tray of breakfast grasped in both hands. You padded up to the edge of the bed where Steve slept, smiling down at his peaceful, sleeping form.

“Psst. Steve,” you hummed quietly, loudly enough to wake him but gently enough to prevent him from startling at the sound of your voice. He let out a sleepy groan, slowly turning onto his side toward the sound of your voice. “Steeeeve,” you sang. “Happy birthday!”

“Hmm?” Steve’s eyes fluttered open slowly, strikingly blue despite the haziness of sleep still weighing on his eyelids. “Oh. Morning, sweetheart.” A soft, groggy smile crossed his face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him.

“I made you breakfast, but you’ll have to sit up more,” you instructed. He brought his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes, slowly pressing his hands down into the mattress so he could lift himself up into a seated position, his back leaned against the headboard.

“You’re too good to me.” He stretched his arms a bit before reaching out to take the tray from your hands and place it across his lap. Once he was settled, you rounded the bed to crawl back under the covers on your own side, leaning against the headboard beside him to watch him enjoy the breakfast you’d prepared.

“I know how much you like my pancakes.”

“I love your pancakes.” Steve turned his head to look at you, smiling before leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. “Thank you for this. If I could spend my whole birthday right here with you, that would be more than enough for me.”

“Go on, then. Try them.”

Chuckling, a slight rasp in his voice from sleep, he picked up the fork you’d provided on the tray and sliced a piece off the stack of pancakes, stabbing into it with the fork tines before putting it in his mouth.

“Mmm.” Steve leaned his head back against the headboard, eyes closed in bliss. “These are the best you’ve ever made.”

“Good, I’m glad you like them,” you replied, grinning. Breaking off another piece, he scooped it up onto the fork and held it up toward you.

“You’re going to have to share these with me. I can’t possibly eat them all by myself.”

“Liar,” you accused teasingly, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Excuse me – it’s my birthday. If I want to share my pancakes with my girlfriend, then I’m going to do just that.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you the bite on his fork. He accidentally (on purpose) smudged a bit of syrup on the corner of your mouth, making you laugh and stick out your tongue to lick the sweet syrup off your lips.

Steve slowly began to wake up a bit more, chatting with you over his breakfast in bed and occasionally insisting on giving you another bite. When the stack was gone, you took the tray from him to place it on the side table to avoid knocking it over and spilling the pool of syrup all over the bed. You handed him the half full coffee mug, grabbing the birthday card and climbing back onto your own side of the bed.

“Alright, I got you a very special card, you can open your gift later, but I want you to open this now,” you gushed excitedly, handing him the blue envelope with his name printed across it. With a grin, he put his coffee down on the table beside him and slid his finger under the fold in the envelope to open the card. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as you waited to see his reaction.

You had every intention of buying him a normal, ordinary birthday card when you’d gone to the store. However, this one had caught your eye, and you couldn’t possibly pass it up, despite the fact that it came from the kid’s birthday card section. You just knew he’d find it funny, and if he didn’t, well, you found it funny enough for the both of you.

He slid the card out from the envelope, placing the torn paper on the side table before laying eyes on the card. His eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead as his eyes scrolled across the front, reading the text printed around the giant photo of himself in his Captain America costume.

“Did you get me a card from the kid’s section??” he asked, trying to sound incredulous but with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes but see – I edited it for you. Look!” You pointed at the bottom line of text, where it said, ‘You’re turning 10!’ in bold letters. Beside the 10, you’d added another 0 in black marker to make it read 100 instead. He must not have noticed at first, because when his eyes traveled down to where your finger was pointing on the card, they narrowed into a glare. He slowly looked up at your face, which was bright with the exertion of trying to hold in your laughter.

“Are you saying I’m old?” Steve held the card up to face you, pointing at your editing job. “I’m not 100 years old yet!”

“Close enough though, right?” you asked innocently, your voice becoming quivery with the threat of giggles. “Don’t you like it?”

“Don’t I like it?” He placed the card standing up on the side table, his face softening into a smile. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you in close against his side, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “How about I show you how much I like it instead?”

“Show me?” You tilted your head back to look Steve in the eye, seeing the playful grin on his face and feeling your stomach suddenly drop. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” The arm he’d wrapped around your waist shifted so his hand rested on your hip, pinching and squeezing into the soft skin above the bone. You already had a dam of built-up giggles from trying not to laugh at his reaction to the card, and so it wasn’t long at all before you began letting them out, pulling at his hand. With a laugh, he reached across with his free hand to torment your other hip, making the volume of your giggles increase.

“Wahahait I don’t deserve thihihis!” you protested, sliding down the bed to try to evade his tickling fingers, because obviously your hands weren’t doing you any good pushing his off of you.

“Don’t deserve this?? You gave me a birthday card for a kid! With my face on it!” He kept his hands in the same spot as you slid down, allowing his fingers to travel higher up your sides to your lower ribs. “And then you change it to say I’m a century old??”

“I thohohought it was cute!!” His hands were large enough to dig his fingers into the front of your ribs while wriggling his thumbs into the sides, making you twist and shriek with laughter.

“Nooo… what’s cute is watching you laugh while I tickle you as punishment for such a rude birthday card!” His fingers darted over to your belly, clawing through your shirt at the soft skin.

“IHI MADE YOU BREHEHEAKFAST!” you pleaded, rolling onto your side to try to protect your belly.

“And it was delicious, thank you!” Taking advantage of your new position, he shot his hands up to scratch at the back of your ribs. With a yelp, you swiftly rolled back onto your back, sliding further down the bed so you were lying flat against the mattress.

“YOHOU ARE SOHO UNGRATEFUL!!”

“Ungrateful??” Steve paused his tickling fingers for a moment in favor of dragging you sideways across the bed, so you were lying between his legs, your head resting against his stomach. He grasped your wrists and pulled them effortlessly over your head, ignoring your protests and threats while he leaned forward to pin your biceps down against his legs with his forearms, hands poised right by your underarms.

“WAIT! Ihi was kidding! Nohoho! Y-you don’t have to do this!”

“But sweetheart, I thought you loved it when I tickle you here!” He poked just his index fingers into the center of your underarms, making you shriek and jolt with a steady stream of giggles to follow.

“IHIHIT TICKLES SOHO BAD, NOHOHO!”

“That’s the point!” Bending his fingers into a claw shape on either side, Steve slowly moved his fingertips closer to the hypersensitive skin, building your anticipatory giggles as you shook your head rapidly. “Do you feel bad for calling me old yet?”

“BUT I WAS CLOSE ENOUGH- AHHAHA NO!!” His fingers made contact with his target, and you dissolved into hysterics, thrashing in his hold. He laughed along with you, grinning in adoration at your scrunched up nose as you laughed.

“I think this is a perfectly good birthday present, sweetheart. I do so enjoy hearing your laugh.” He lightened the pressure of his fingertips to graze gently against your shirt, enjoying the high-pitched giggles he elicited with this new technique.

“I gihihihive!! I give!!” you breathed, tapping his elbow with your hand. Taking the hint, he released you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you so you were sitting up more, your head resting against his chest. “Yohohou… you’re so mean!”

“And you love me for it,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Now then – I won’t have you laying in bed all day being lazy. It’s time to get up!”

“Being lazy??” you asked incredulously, sitting up all the way so you could turn to face him. “I’m exhausted from your torturing me! Not because I’m lazy!”

“Hmm. Lazy.” He shrugged, poking you in the middle of your belly just to make you double over for a second before swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up. “Come on! Let’s go get ready for the day!”

You scoffed, watching him enter the bathroom and close the door before flopping back down into your pillow. Snickering, you thought about the surprise you had for him waiting in the common room. You knew when the other Avengers handed him their own Captain America birthday cards with various ages scribbled on them, he’d immediately know who was behind the idea. You also knew he’d probably get you back two-fold for it later. But that was a problem for future you. Present you had time to take a quick nap while waiting for your super soldier boyfriend to finish getting ready. After all, you had to regain your strength before he decided to tickle you to tears once again.

#marvel tickle #sfw tickle fluff #tickle prompts #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #lee!reader #ler!steve #steve rodgers x reader

169 notes · View notes

woahajimes · 4 years ago

Text

So I have this little headcanon (well,,,, not really a headcanon but more of a nice-to-think-about headcanon because it would never happen but it’s- like the title- nice to think about so im sharing it here) in which they’re all going to the beach in this sorta mini-van that bruce rented. And take in mind that this is the wayne family, but at the same time most people that wear a bat on their chest,,,, so they had to whack some things up.

BUT ANYWAYS, it was Bruce’s dumbass idea to buy a van and call it a road-trip, and honestly? no one was ready. That usually happens with big families, even with one that has most kids over 18. And how everyone was on board with the idea doesn’t matter because this is my headcanon and they are all now squished in a minivan and there are bags in the back and towels in the seats and there’s a cooler on top because it didn’t fit.

and just for reference the van was like SMALL. it was sort of like the school buses but way smaller, so they’re like buses in which there are three seats in front, driver, and then like two others (the middle one doesn’t really count because that’s where you put waterbottles and stuff). There’s a sort of space in the back, where you usually put the backpacks (these are like elementary school buses and every single kid has those backpacks with wheels and it’s a pain in the ass-) and then there is another set of four seats (that’s more like a sofa but no armrest- god please have patience there is literally not a single image on google im trying to be specific- and those are facing the back of the bus (so the backrest (?) is facing the place with the bags).

THEN we have another seat that’s close to this one but facing the opposite way but it’s only THREE seats so there’s a space for the next row of three seats and then there’s the back one that’s four again.

In conclusion, you can fit 18-ish people, driver counted.

and continuing with my story, it’s Bruce driving, Alfred as shotgun, a water-bottle or two in the middle, the bags in their respective places... and then...

disaster.

Babs is the only one sitting in the four-seat closer to the bags, harper is in the three-seat, Dick is there as well.

and then there’s the rest. Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, Tim, Damian, they’re all screaming in the back and they’re throwing towels around and there’s an “OW! THAT WAS MY HAIR YOU DICKHEAD!” and a “THAT’S MINE!” and so many other things because. the back of the bus, it’s cURSED. And Bruce is just driving with a strained smile because he wants so badly to turn around and throw a waterbottle at each of their heads to get them to shut up (of course, it wouldn’t work because not even god can calm down the back of the bus)

Tim and Jason somehow get into this argument of how tim ‘has no friends’ and Tim shoots back that in fact he DOES, that he’s calling them right this instant. And bruce doesn’t even have a chance to yell at them, because now there’s a speedster and a cloned kryptonian right beside the moving minivan and Bruce is lowkey freaking out because none of them (the ones in the van and the ones out) are wearing their superhero costumes, and then Tim is just with his hands pressed on the window and he’s like practically banging the glass and waving and they can’t hear him but he’s like “HEY! HEY HYE HEY YOU GUYS MADE IT!!!” and then dick is just telling them to cut it out and slow down because you know, identities, and Steph is like HOLY SHIT THEY DID MAKE IT and Damian is just sitting upside down with his legs in the backrest off the seat and Duke is in the same position, making fun of Damian because his feet don’t reach.

Kon and Bart seem to get the hint because they slow down, but not before bart has literally jumped towards the MOVING VAN and vibrated through (i’m like 99% sure he is able to do that so-) and then he literally landed on Tim (tim actually softened his fall, because Tim’s back literally made a ~crack~ sound by hitting somebody’s knee) and stood up real quick and then started waving and laughing at kon, who was now running normal-speed beside the van.

And then bruce went FASTER and kon was like WHAT THE HECK OLD MAN and he can’t use his powers so he’s literally running behind the van and bart is laughing his ass off and then tim is like “BRUCE STOP THE VAN!” and then Bart is already calling cassie and telling her what happened and you can hear cassie laughing from over the phone and then Tim is just yelling at bruce in the background. Bruce eventually DOES stop, and Tim opens the door for him and Kon crawls in and Bart’s still laughing, and he’s practically leaning onto Dick and Harper, and they’re squished together and bart’s just laughing on the phone while Kon sits on the really far end of the opposite seat (practically on the door) so he’s the furthest from babs as possible because he’s actually terrified of her. Tim is just sorta awkward because he now realizes that he was a bit TOO excited to see kon, and then the back of the bus/van is staring at them and like what the hell and then Tim goes “who doesn’t have friends, huh?”, and Jason goes ‘pfft’ and he calls roy but he’s spending time with lian; he calls artemis and she goes, “but wasn’t this a family trip? what do you need me for?”, SO jaosn calls bizarro and then he barely answers the phone when bizarro goes “RED HER SAID NO. BYE” so Jason slumps and it’s quiet for a second when steph goes “is that GUM IN MY HAIR”. And then jason laughs and its chaos all over again. (i might make a ‘things that were heard from the back of the road trip bus post bc i have so many ideas oh my god)

and then they are at the beach, the bus barely stops and there’s a few bags thrown out the window, and people yelling at Kon to open the door, and Kon not being able to work under pressure so tim opens it and everyone’s pushing each other and Steph has an uneven strand of hair, because Damian went to ‘extreme measures’ and cut it so now steph’s hair is uneven and they were going to keep cutting it “to make it even” but then Alfred was like “you’re all going to clean the van afterwards so think carefully” and then nobody did anything and there’s literally a ziploc bag with steph’s strand of hair (damian didn’t even cut to where the gum was, he cut even FURTHER but yes, the gum is in the bag).

As I was saying, they get out of the van, and the bags are out and Bruce has NO IDEA what to do. none. It’s alfred that rents a tent and then Damian’s chasing duke into a random restaurant’s changeroom and showers and then cass is dragging harper that’s dragging steph that’s dragging jason and tim is getting the bags with Kon and bart and bart realizes that he doesn’t have a swimsuit and then he stops walking and Kon seems to realize too and it’s like OH MAN and they can’t run back (because no powers, rule set by bruce when two super-powered bros came in the bus) and They’ recarrying the bags to this tent (do you guys know what im talking about? i feel like we’re imagining completely different things- it’s this but much more people and there’s a bunch of people selling stuff like sunglasses and doign hair, piercings, tattoos even - for the tattoos thing it’s just promo for an actual shop they don’t tattoo you in the actual beach - ) and It’s literally Kon, tim and bart carrying the bags (which they CAN carry between the three, it’s not like they packed up half the manor) and then a minute later or so Steph is sprinting towards Tim and she’s yelling something Tim can’t understand and then Steph points at her bag (that tim’s carrying) and she screams something like “SAND! HOT!” and then she’s like high-knee-ing/sprinting even faster and Cass is just walking barefoot in the sand, super calm, but she’s got Harper on her back. Damian and Duke are racing towards the shadow (because the sand is cooler there), and next thing you know Jason’s aready in the tent with a coconut.

And if you haven’t thougth about how the Batfam would be in the beach then let me tell you, you don’t have enough spare time because i know for a FAT FACT that:

It was Jason that insisted on Bruce buying sand toys (a whole bag, i swear)

Damian tried coconut water, didn’t like it all that much (altho he loves the inside- idk what it’s called but it’s edible i swear)

Bruce put on an excessive amount of sunscreen

Duke has swimming trunks with the robin logo just to piss damian off (also Damian has matching ones but with the batman one)

Steph, Cass and Harper rented a banana boat (here’s a picture) and they dragged Jason and Tim along, just to toss them off in the end

Jason 1000% got stung by a jellyfish

Bruce bought like seven friendship bracelets from this guy that made them because they looked deadass cool

They played beach volleyball and let me tell you Damian can throw a really mean overhand serve (actually, i don’t think you THROW a serve, but like,,, serve one-)

dick got buried in the sand, courtesy of Jason

bart was pissy because he couldn’t go in the water, so he and Kon sprinted with normal speed (they both had water-proof anklets that sucked their powers, so it was REALLY a no-powers vacation, courtesy of Bruce, again.)

the only ones in stock were neon, and they settled real quick so now theyre sprinting back and cardying a bag of keychains they thought looked rad as hell and now tim caught up to them and all three are practically skipping towards the water

,,,,they forgot to put sunscreen on.... all of them,,, they forgot....

tim made a sand castle

in teams of two (kon/bart, tim/cass, duke/harper, steph/jason, dick/damian) got on each other shoulders and basically spent five minutes trying to see who would be the last team standing, splashing water everywhere and stuff

first team to go down was Dick and damian, because steph pushed damian and by trying to keep himself on Dick's shoulders, damian accidentally poked dick's eye (sort of CLAWED in so you know what i mean).

second team to go down was steph and jason, because damian doesnt play fair and so he swam down and literally just scratched Jason's ankle, knowing damn well that the jellyfish sting was there. Jaosn shrieked and steph lost her balance. so much for vigilantes at night with stealth and talent, huh.

third team to go down was tim and bart because kon insisted on being on bart’s shoulders and that’s easy peasy because i mean, bart’s not WEAK, but he’s not TALL either and it’s not like Kon weighs a feather and they’re on the deeper side,,,,, you can imagine the rest

Now there’s two teams, and they call it a tie because otherwise someone’s gonna end up injured (altho tim likes to say that he and cass won)

There’s music playing in the background, with really vulgar lyrics that alfred disapproves of, but you know. It’s not his beach.

THIS IS REALLY JUST A SCREAM POST SORRY IT’S NOT WHAT YOU GUYS SIGNED UP FOR BUT TAGLIST ANYWAYS: @red-hood-redemption @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @catxsnow @thesporklecat @thesesickfics-justmakemesick @hauntingsonofrobin anddd i think i forgot someone sorry

403 notes · View notes

decaysate · 2 years ago

Text

assorted fumi headcanons .ᐟ ❀. fumi is childhood friends with kawatabi shunki, aka shun-chan. he was the one who asked her to be the volleyball team’s manager, because he knew she was looking for things to put on her resume. she easily became friends with the rest of the team afterwards, but remains closest to shunki &. takeru! ❀. speaking of, fumi does not continue being a volleyball team manager after high school. if he’s asked about it: “ volleyball was shun-chan’s, &. when he asked me to be a manager, he helped it become mine, too. it sounds selfish, but i want it to keep being ours── the wakunan team’s. becoming a manager for another team feels like a betrayal, plus ... my heart wouldn’t really be in it. i became a manager for wakunan, &. wakunan only. ” ❀. but, she’s always been open to other managerial positions, which is why she becomes an editor. additionally, she will bring out her manager skills for her friends from high school; mainly, the players from the miyagi powerhouse schools. of course, she’ll help out takeru &. the rest of the kiniro sports jumpers; but she’ll do it for goshiki or kyotani too, even oikawa if he gives her the tapes! however, he’ll never go for an official volleyball manager spot ever again. ❀. on that note: he ends up befriending much of the japan national team. partly through ushijima, partly through akaashi &. bokuto. sometimes, he’ll manager for them too! she stresses that it’s only for ushijima’s sake, &. also bokuto because she can’t say no to him. ❀. fumi grew up with only his dad. his parents divorced when he was four, &. his mother left his life entirely. it was just the two of them afterwards, &. he's learned to take care of the house at a very young age. his dad is very nice! but from what fumi remembers of her mother, she was standoffish, if not incredibly detached to her. fumi has spent her entire life wondering if she did something wrong for her mother to leave them so suddenly. ❀. i’ve alluded to this in some threads with sparky, but fumi has extreme trouble with allowing herself to act selfishly. he always puts others first! &. it’s not entirely a bad thing── he likes caring for people, really! ── but it comes from extreme self-esteem issues, as well as his mother leaving. because being selfish isn’t good, &. being selfish means people are more likely to leave. ❀. fumi is super into fairy kei &. himekaji! although she doesn’t go all-out very often, she does include parts of both into her day-to-day outfits. most people assume she’s just a kogyaru, but she’s more into the himekaji / amekaji subcultures. ❀. self indulgent headcanons time! a) he sometimes helps eita out by singing out lyrics while he practices! here’s his voice claim, misaki from bang dream. b) in my own personal canon, she ends up getting engaged to matsukawa issei by the time the olympics roll around. he was the one who offered to carry fumi to the nurse’s office after she sprained her ankle! this does not apply to any in character content. fumi is still very much up for ships on this blog!!!

#hi here are some thoughts ive ammassed #❪ 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂!! ❫ * ♡ . fumi hayasaka. ◞

4 notes · View notes

obeymefictionwriting · 4 years ago

Text

MC Caring About the Boys (SFW/NSFW)

So I had this idea: what if the demon boys had some sort of injury/illness/whatever and MC had to care about them? Enjoy!

Lucifer

He was putting some demon in their place and got minor injuries during the process - nothing serious to him but you can spot a wound on his hand right away.

“Calm down” he says in an annoyed manner but deep down he likes the fact that you care.

He’d never expect you to run this fast to him just to check if he is okay. He suppresses the desire to squeeze you in his arms and tries to remain cool and reserved.

Tries to hide his hand behind his back as you are reaching to it with the bandage. His pride won’t allow him to admit any weaknesses - especially in front of you.

Finally gives in with a sigh and holds out his hand so you can take care of it. Is quite sceptical about your help but still gives it a try.

Blushes a bit and is amazed at how soft and soothing your touch is.

Hates to admit it but he wants you to touch him more.

As you are occupied with his wounds and bangade, he can’t help but fantasize about you exploring more of his body... and in many different ways.

Composedly thanks you for your help but suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you close.

“I need to thank my doctor” he hums as his hands explore your body.

Mammon

The boy is a walking disaster so no wonder he always has random bruises.

Was probably trying to steal something from Asmo’s room and got under a curse.

“AAARGH” he yells and rubs his forehead.

There is quite a big scratch on it and it seems to bleed.

You pass by and see Mammon on the floor, rubbing his forehead.

He is super confused and tries to hide it with fake “Whadda ya want, human? Mind your own business!”

But you don’t buy it because you know him too well. Instead, you sit down and reach for your backpack. There must be a band aid in it.

Mammon sits silently as you accurately put the band aid on his scratch. He will never admit it but he wants you to pamper him and care for him.

You catch his eye and see that he is staring at you in sheer admiration.

You slightly kiss his forehead and smile - he immediately turns bright red and mumbles “Great Mammon will not forget your assistance, human”.

Deep down, he wishes he had a more serious injury so you could stay by his side a bit longer.

Leviathan

Nothing serious - he just got a headache from playing too many games non-stop.

You enter his room because you wanted to borrow some manga and you see him lying on the bed and frowning.

“What do you want, human?” He sounds more annoyed than he should but you don’t take it seriously and sit down near him.

He tries to hide his face but then gives in and admits he has a very strong headache.

You place your hand on his forehead and he blushes so hard his skin basically burns under your fingers.

He is doing his best not to move at all because he loves how your touch feels - but is scared that if he changes his position for an inch, you’ll remove your hand.

“It’s a bit better” He mumbles. “But can you maybe sit with me for a bit more?”

Satan

Satan was trying to rescue a cat and got rewarded with deep scratches.

He hisses as he is trying to wash the wounds and suddenly notices you standing by his side.

He raises his brow at you asking if he needs help but agrees. After all, he doesn’t turn down any kind of assistance, be it from demons or humans.

Is surprised by how gentle and accurate you are but doesn’t say a word. He just observes you with a faint smile.

You are done - quicker than he thought! The scratches don’t hurt but he really wants you to stay and can’t think of a valid reason to make you stay.

You see the expression on his face and decide to ask if there is anything else you can do for him.

“Maybe you can make me a company while I read?” He prompts and his heart misses a beat when you agree. He will make sure to make the most out of the time spent with you.

Asmodeus

Do you really expect Asmo to get hurt or injured? No way such a graceful demon ever gets even a minor cut or bruise! No, dear, leave it to his clumsy brothers.

A little accident happened though - he spent too much time outside and his skin got all dry. You heard him sighing and sobbing about it while walking past his room.

When you enter the room (knocking first, of course!, he tries to hide his face.

You gently take his hand and assure him that he is still the jewel of Devildom and that such little accident cannot make him look worse. In fact, with your help, he can shine even brighter!

Asmo immediately lits up when he hears that - especially that you are next to him and take your time to comfort him!

“Oh my sweet baby” he showers you with kisses, forgetting about his problem. “How can you be so caring and SO seductive at the same time?”

He wants you in his bed right now - but first you need to promise you will help him come up with a new skin care routine afterwards.

Beelzebub

Beel is the star of the team so injuries are a common thing. This time, he just strained his leg.

He somehow made it to his room but it hurts real bad so he can’t walk to the kitchen. He decides to text you and ask for help.

As soon as he sees you rushing in his room, he smiles widely. You care so much and it really warms his heart. He forgets about his pain for a moment and wants to hug you and care for you instead.

You stand your ground though - he needs medical assistance! And food, of course.

He sends you down for some food while he will be taking care of his leg. His first aid kit is right here, besides his bed.

You come back with arms full of snacks to see that he did, in fact, keep his promise - put bandage on his leg and took some medicine.

You sit on the bed beside him and feed him with snacks, stroking his hand at the same time.

Suddenly, he grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, staring at your lips in admiration.

You nod and he passionately kisses you, squeezing you tight in his hands.

You can feel something... hard under the blanket. He catches your eye and gives you a guilty smile - but you are open to alternative medicine, you know?

Belphegor

Belphie got in a fight in school and is not in the mood so he heads straight to the attic.

You find him there as you were calling for everyone for dinner.

He is annoyed and tries to snap at you but you know him too well. So you get under the blanket and start playing with his hair.

He sighs and turns his face to you. Nothing serious - just a few bruises but you are still worried.

He laughs at seeing this worried expression on your face but tries to be nice and thanks you for caring.

You ask if you can do anything for him - and oh yes, you can!

It involves staying in bed for some time and getting rid of few clothes but he insists it will instantly make him feel better. You don’t have a choice but to give in.

#Obey Me!Obey Me! x ReaderLucifer x ReaderMammon x ReaderLeviathan x ReaderLevi x ReaderSatan x ReaderAsmo x readerAsmodeus x readerbeelzebub #belphegor x reader

243 notes · View notes

vydante · 4 years ago

Text

Restart | END | Avengers x Male! Reader

I am discontinuing my Restart series because I've simply lost creative juices for it. That's it, no elaborate or other reason. Anyways, I didn't want to just end it on the last chapter, and as someone who loves to overshare (especially if it's unsolicited), I thought some might like to see what drafts I had in plan, going chapter by chapter.

It goes up to Ch. 20 with additional bonus chapters, and chapters where I wasn't sure where they were going to be placed in the timeline.

If you have any comments, let me know! I'd love to read them :)

Here goes! Warning: very long, since the formatting is weird! The reader will be referred to as (Name) and "you", as in the story.

Right after Ch. 12 (Circumvention), are 2 special chapters (High Caliber Bullet) & (America's Sweethearts).

(High Caliber Bullet)'s basic plot was that Barnes, now # amount of weeks since the last chapter, has gained some freedoms and can now go out and about with either (Name) or DAHLIA for supervision (via his phone, and through the cameras everywhere).

In this particular chapter, he basically goes out for a typical grocery run with DAHLIA "accompanying" him, since before, he remembers (Name) telling him that "I won't always be there with you". But something bad happens! Wooo! (Maybe an attempted robbery, I didn't have the details sorted out yet.)

Either way, DAHLIA loses contact with him, and she tries to contact you ASAP, but it takes a little while since your dumbass was asleep the whole time! Wow! The suit had to manually power on and shake you awake.

Anyways, the only thing I had "written down" after that was that, after a failed search attempt for James, you go back home and are greeted with a surprise... "Kabedon"? Or, you're pinned to the walls by James... Or, rather, the Winter Soldier!

You're not sure what's going on, only that, "Wow, Barnes is acting weird. Why is he suddenly Russian? Wh- Okay, wow, he's suddenly gotten a lot closer. Now, wait a fuckin' minute-!"

Either way, you and James make a discovery of a second personality living inside his body- the Soldier! Or Winter, I'm still unsure which I would have gone for. If you're familiar with certain WinterIron tropes, this is one of them. Anyways, that's the end of that chapter, or what I had written so far, anyway.

This chapter is really important to the canon of Restart since it establishes Soldier, but it didn't fit into my initial plans of 10 chapters an arc, so. That's why it's a "special" chapter.

The next "special" chapter after that was (America's Sweethearts). I had written 2 "chunks" of text for this chapter. The main plot is, basically, you and Steve spent a platonic (promise!) Valentine's Day together. Hence the title. Cute, right? This was referenced in Ch. 9 (Revelation) during Future! Steve's reminiscing.

Anyways, below the next text is what I had written for that chapter. It will be in normal text.

No other thoughts on that, so let's move on.

"You live like this?"

In his defense, Steve's apartment wasn't messy in the slightest. In fact, it was the other way around- everything was too clean, too pristine, too detached. The only saving grace he's getting from standing in the middle of his apartment is the fact that compared to the chilly Brooklyn weather, it was almost obnoxiously warm in his apartment.

Not only did he have the heater going on, but he had another separate, portable heater blasting hot air in the corner.

(Sometimes, and only sometimes, Steve will stand in front of the heater and slowly spin around like a rotisserie chicken. The heat feels good, in his defense.)

The heat was something that you, thankfully, didn't comment on as you shed your jacket and slung it around the coat hanger near the door. You're wearing an over-sized tee- Thor's tee, he absentmindedly notes- and some sweats, both like and unlike the (Name) he often sees.

(It's not uncommon for Steve to glance at a newspaper or TV still shot and see you with your hair slicked back and dressed head to toe in a suit so expensive he's confident it costs at least a few years' worths of a typical New Yorker's rent.

Neither is uncommon to see you on the front cover of Men's Magazine, wearing a simple tee that shouldn't look that good on you but still does and posing confidently for the camera.

But despite all that, all of the clearly flattering outfits you could possibly wear at the tips of your fingers, often Steve will see you wear a disparagingly obnoxious, dirty shirt, and an old pair of sweats as your go-to outfit.)

(No, he will never admit that he really likes seeing you like that. Even with the mysterious smudged substance often found on the bottom of your sweats, as if you had swing danced in mud and crude oil.)

Regardless, while he often questions your private life fashion choices (and this is coming from a man who willingly wears khakis), he at least knows why you're wearing what you are, given the fact that he's also dressed in an overused tee and some joggers.

"What's wrong with my apartment? Not up to par with your penthouse standards?" Steve jests.

"Steve. Please." You threw him an unimpressed glare, much to Steve's never-ending amusement.

You glanced back to the inside of the apartment and squinted at it with what Steve could only describe as a rich man's scrutinizing gaze, before shrugging nonchalantly. You strolled into his apartment with a confidence Steve can still never get used to, one that reminds him so much of Tony's, and even Howard on his bad days.

(He understands why Tony doesn't like it when he brings Howard up, as he belatedly realizes that Howard didn't die the same man he knew him as, but he never understood why you've suddenly gotten bitter about Howard as well.)

He follows you into the hallway, and if it weren't for the fact that this was his apartment, he would've looked like a lost puppy following its new owner.

His apartment's not really that big, so it doesn't take long before you've both reached the living room. A simple TV, simple couch, simple table. Nothing really exciting in his living room, but it serves its purposes, in Steve's opinion.

(This is the end of that chunk. Next is where I picked up in writing. Short time skip, they both fall asleep and now Steve's waking up.)

It was the change in the smell that woke him up.

It's always the scent of fresh linen that greeted him early in the morning, something that's become so attuned to his everyday life. So when, instead, popcorn and sweets drifts his way, for a brief second his heart rate jumps.

'What?', his mind asks as he opens his eyes, bleary but cautious.

'Oh,' his mind responds back at him when his eyes drift down to your sleeping form laying splayed right on top of him, body glued to his side. You're mainly hogging the blanket, but he doesn't really mind as he runs hot 24/7.

'Oh', his mind repeats softly, as something deep unfurls from his stomach and rises to his throat, clenching up and unable to say anything as his eyes fixate themselves on your steady breathing. Your lips are too close to his neck, each breath too warm, even for him. His skin burns where it meets yours, and absently he thinks, 'this is nice'.

'Yeah,' he lifts his hand to brush away a strand of hair away from your eyes, 'This is nice.'

Steve blearily throws a glance at the clock on his nightstand. 4 more minutes until he'd typically wake up and start his day with a morning jog.

'No,' his body protests.

'Okay,' his mind agrees without a fight.

He carefully reaches over and presses the silence button on his alarm. Above him, a breathy exhale escapes your lips at the sudden movement, and if possible, you curl closer to him than you were before. He pauses, unsure if you're going to wake up or not, but relax when he realizes that you're still in a deep slumber.

(Another break. Next sentence was supposed to be the final sentence of the chapter.)

In the end, neither of you commented about how Steve had missed his daily morning run as his limbs were straddled in between yours.

Ch. 13 (Upheaval) and 14 (Airlocked) are short in terms of drafting, so I'll combine them into one section here. Ch. 13 (Upheaval) was about taking down SHIELDRA in a better manner than the mess that was CA:TWS. And (Name) also forces Steve and Natasha to fess up immediately about Tony's parent's murderer. ((Name) threatens them.)

As for Ch. 14 (Airlocked), it's pretty much a filler chapter of sorts. (Name) graduates, there's now an official class-action lawsuit against Ross, also now keeping an eye on Baron Zemo, and we see some progression on Barne's therapy session. Not much, but some.

I really was not looking forward to these two chapters, as I knew they were gonna be boring as hell.

Ch. 15 (Spiralling) has actual written chunks. It's basically about the early prevention of Ultron. The Avengers go to a Sokovian HYDRA base, take out baddies, and the Super Twins get captured first- wow! But not before Wanda does... something to (Name), causing you to hallucinate and lose contact with the team- uh oh!

But don't worry! You get run over by a car. Lol. Below is what I had written for it, sans minor text.

A/N: In Ch. 7 (Summer), there was a 'dream-sequence' that happened where (Name) was on Titan with Tony, Peter, Stephen, and the GOTG. I've now decided that in canon, (Name) was not on Titan- instead, you were on Earth instead during IW helping at Wakanda. Just a brief plot-hole wrap-up; let's imply that (Name) had watched video footage of the fight at Titan via Tony's suit afterward, and that's where the nightmare came from. Okay bye.

(VERY abrupt start into the story, not meant to be the start of the chapter in the final draft, just where I wanted to start writing. Intro to Wanda.)

You jerked your head, catching a glimpse of brunette hair in the corner of your eyes. You swung your gauntlet instinctively and made instant contact with whatever was next to you. Flutters of red wisps followed your eyes, and you instantly knew what just happened as a body dropped next to you.

You grunted and leaned onto the nearest wall, watching the girl's limp body with caution. Your shoulder plate lifted, and a tranquilizing dart connected to her thigh.

Just in case.

"Guys, I- I've been- ugh..." You wanted to vomit, the pounding in your head worsening with each millisecond that passes. Already, your surroundings distort you with each blink, walls melting and the floor sinking in on itself. "I've been- com-," you swallowed back your bile, "-compromised... Sending- location... Ergh..."

You didn't even have enough time to hear a response before the whole world around you shifted. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm your thundering heartbeat. The pounding got worse as the armor around you dissipated into nothing but the under-suit you were wearing. Before, where there were the shouting and gunshots, is now replaced with an eerie silence filled with just your laborious breathing.

You didn't know the full extent of what visions you were about to see, but you needed to remember that none of this is real. Scientifically, that was your only safe haven from possibly losing your mind for what's about to come. And it was worse because you had no idea what visions you'd see. Would you see Thanos? The Chitauri, just like your father once had? Or would it be something more close to home; the bunker? Tony's dead body, splayed with vomit around him, frostbitten to the touch and still like a marbled statue?

Ready to go up and arms at whatever it was you're about to see, you cautiously opened your eyes.

(Line break, there's meant to be an "oh shit" line, like "Only, you were met with eyes far too similar to yours." but I still didn't know what I wanted to do for the hallucination sequence. Maybe meeting an older you, a younger you, or your dream life without the Avengers or meta-humans.)

(Below is an abrupt shift in the story; same general setting, but outside POV! What I had was dialogue only, alternating between people in bold, as a POV switch.)

(Name) "Guys, I- I've been- ugh... I've been- com-compromised... Sending- location... Ergh..."

(Steve) "Apex, do you copy? (Name)!"

(Steve) "Shit, (Name) isn't answering! Tony!"

(Tony) "Got his location, he's inside the base. J.A.R.V.I.S., what's his status?"

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I'm sorry, Sir, but it appears that I am not in contact with his suit."

(Tony) "Wha- the hell do you mean you're not in contact?!"

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I cannot connect to his suit; it appears that Young Sir has somehow deprogrammed me from his suit."

(Tony) "Wha-!"

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "However, it seems as if there is an A.I. present nonetheless. Though..."

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I do not recognize the code. Would you like me to attempt at forming a mode of communication?"

(Tony) "Yeah, just- God, make sure (Name)'s okay, please."

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "On it."

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "Establishing a connection."

(DAHLIA) "Mister Stark?"

(Tony) "Wha- I'm sorry- who are you?"

(DAHLIA), ignoring Tony, "An enhanced got to (Name). The operative is down, but (Name)'s experiencing hallucinations. I can't get through to him- you need to get to him, now. I fear he may hurt himself more than he already has."

(DAHLIA) "And if I may be privy to a request?"

(Tony) "What?"

(DAHLIA) "Don't bring Rogers." (I don't remember why I wrote this bit.)

(Steve) "Any updates on (Name)?"

(Tony) "Yep, and by the looks of it," there was a loud boom coming from the base, and as Tony looked up to see an all too familiar suit fly out of the building. Or, rather, flying was an interesting way to put it- it was more of a free-falling more than anything else.

(Steve) "What was that?"

(Tony) "That was (Name), and he's not havin' a great time I'll tell you that."

His voice was light and joking, but he'd be lying if he didn't say that his heart wasn't in his throat by the sight of you flying out of the building and falling back into the forests.

(Line break, another POV switch)

Steve sprinted towards the loud boom, movements quick and calculated, but mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He saw a red and gold glint fly up above him, zipping in and out between trees gracefully.

(Line break, but no switch, same place. Another story POV shift, sort of. Steve makes contact with (Name), or so he thinks.)

"(Name)? Hey, do you copy?"

The suit was eerily silent, glowing eyes that once gave comfort to the soldier now bringing nothing but an awful, gripping dread; one that he'd get when there were Nazi soldiers nearby, but he couldn't tell where even with his enhanced senses. The suit gave away nothing that usually screamed out everything that was you- no head swaying, no restless and constantly shifting feet, only a stillness that looked so unnatural. Almost as if there was no one in there.

"(Name)?"

There was no response from you.

The hairs on Steve's neck stood up, everything in his system suddenly screaming to get out of there, run, leave, get away from the suit, but he ignored it as he took a cautious step forward.

Again, you didn't seem to react.

Then, the suit took a step forward.

Then another one.

And another one.

"(Name)-"

Before he could say anything more, the suit lunged forward. Only for a moment could Steve react, but even he wasn't as fast as you could be when you're in the suit. He raised his shield, ready to be shot at, but only the sound of harsh metal on metal makes it to his ears. By the sounds of it, it sounded like Tony had managed to land a direct hit on you, from wherever position he was at. Cautiously, Steve lowers his shield to look.

But instead of the familiar red and gold suit of armor greeting him, it's the sight of two (color) suits wrestling on the ground with each other that manages to sucker-punch all air from his lungs.

(Basically, you went bat shit insane and got out of the older suit, then prematurely activating the nano suit instead, in a fit of panicked hallucination. The older suit, now operating by DAHLIA, was trying to protect Steve from being ambushed by (Name), and now they're wrestling.)

(Another big break, but I think I had a hallucination sequence from (Name)'s POV planned here. Not sure what I was gonna do here since I planned this like, maybe in 2018, early 2019. It's... 2021 now...)

"-(Name)!"

Your eyes widened as the world around you suddenly shifts out of existence, and instead, you're outside in the dim, snowy alps once again. Someone called out to you, you don't know who, but there's a light in the corner of your eyes that's so goddamn bright. You turn your head in the direction of the light, and amidst all of the yelling and gunshots, DAHLIA's cool, chilling voice rings the loudest in your ear.

"Aborting protoc-"

And then the world turned black.

Ch. 16 (Enflamed) also has written text. Basically, you're recovering from being caught slipping by a car, the team is now aware of certain secrets you've been keeping behind their backs, and you realize that you have to get back to Barnes to let him know you're okay.

This chapter was meant to be focused on the twins, but I guess I forgot that as I was "writing" it. Basically, the gist was that their parent's deaths weren't by officially licensed Stark tech (maybe even a counterfeit since Stark weapons are the best, and don't malfunction as it did in WandaVision ep. 8). Maybe HYDRA was the one that did it in order to recruit more people. Or something like that. Basically, Tony wasn't the one who authorized those weapons to be sold and used there, but it was Stane. Either way, they get their own healthy moment to mourn and lament over it all.

Here's the text below. Italics for a dream sequence, since you were unconscious/ in a coma from being bOnked on by a car.

"Hey, sweetheart."

You smile, turning around to face the voice only to be greeted with lips on yours. You chuckle, amused that this was the first thing you'd be greeted with, but lean into the kiss anyways as you wrapped your fingers around their cheek.

They pull back first, but their eyes are warm as they smile, lingering in the space between the two of you. Where their hands laid on your hips, your skin burned bright hot, but you paid no mind to it.

(There's supposed to be more, maybe foreshadowing, but I stopped here in terms of the dream sequence. Jump cut to another POV, but you're waking up!)

(Name) "Hnng..."

(Steve) "Stay down! You're in no condition to move at all, just- just rest, okay? The doctors- and- your dad are coming."

(Steve) "How're you feeling? You want some water?"

You tried to turn your head to look at the blonde but hissed suddenly.

(Name) "S'nnof'a' b'ch..." (Son of a bitch.)

Steve helped you settle back onto your pillow- which even he'll admit doesn't look like the most comfortable setting in the world.

"Language, (Name)..."

He reprimanded, but there's no heat in his words as he's just so thankful that you're even capable of forming any words, no matter how profane they may be.

Beside him, Clint laughs a bit too loud for comfort. Steve wants to tell him to be quiet, as he's sure you're sensitive to noise right now, but God he can't blame the archer for his overwhelming relief.

Lord knows Clint wasn't the only one to stress over their youngest Avenger.

"First words after a damn coma, and it's 'son of a bitch'! I told you he's a fighter!"

"Of course he is, he's a Stark after all."

All eyes turn to see the billionaire and assassin walk into the room. They look clean and pristine as always, but by the slight sheen of sweat on both of them, Steve knew they rushed here as soon as word spread that you were awake.

(Natasha) "Tooting your own horn a little much there?"

Natasha's smile betrays her words as she looks fondly from the senior Stark to the junior. Even the ironclad wall she has up 24/7 has a soft spot for the team's junior member.

(Especially for the junior member, but you didn't hear that from Steve.)

(Tony) "It's both of our horns, excuse you."

Tony turns his attention to you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You sure took a hit back there, champ."

"Mmm... 'm feel like a... Nn... A damn Make A W'sh kid...", (Mm, am feeling like a damn Make A Wish kid...) your eyes, though blown out from still being drugged up, wandered across each Avenger. You frowned, then smirked- well, as best as you could, anyways.

"Where's th' Hul'k? T'or?" (Where's the Hulk? Thor? (As a joke, since usually the whole gang visits, but they're missing))

"Relax junior, you're not that special. We can only afford so many Avengers to visit you."

Despite his harsh words, Tony places a kiss right on your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, lashes delicately batting as Tony leans away.

(Big block of nothing, there were supposed to be more text here, more dialogue or something. Same setting!)

(Tony) "So. We need to talk about what happened back there. Y'know. The brand-smackin' new A.I. that's in your suit- she's been awfully quiet. Oh, and the- lord, the thing's a work of art- the- what is it? Nanite suit? That's in a collar- a collar? I mean, I'm not one to judge questionable fashion statements, but-"

(Steve, or someone else) "Tony."

(Tony) "Right- but, we are going to talk about all that, okay?"

"L'ter, ple's? Am tir'd..." (Later, please? Am tired.)

"An' b'sides, chok'r's fun..." (And besides, chokers are fun.)

(Line break, basically, you remember you have a certain Winter Soldier that's been sitting at home without any word from you.)

’Oh fuck.’

(Big line break, basically, you get discharged from the hospital, and now you visit the safehouse Barnes is in to check up on him.)

It was eerily quiet when you opened the door to the safe house. You limped into the door, thankful that the ride on the way back, there were no paparazzi to see you leave at all. (Really, Happy should get a raise.) Lord knows how much of a rile that'll get out of the news media.

'Avengers' Golden Boy: Fatally Injured?' or something dumb like that.

You'd love to roll your eyes, but the tension that's coiling up in your gut surpasses the want as you slowly step into the house. It's warm, more so than the slow brewing chill that's been tempering outside. James never liked the cold, but even so, the house was warmer than you remembered. His shoes are still near the doorway, in the exact place that you remembered it to be, so he definitely hasn't gone anywhere.

(Though, the alerts that were on your phone from DAHLIA definitely show that he wanted to.)

For a brief moment, you were concerned that there wasn't enough food; but even then, DAHLIA would still be up, so she could place an online order to refill the fridge at a moment's notice, so it's not like James (even with his super-soldiered appetite) would starve himself here.

You quietly slipped out of your shoes, slowly as to not incur another cramp in your back, and stepped into the hallway barefooted. You glance into each room you pass by, but not a single sign of the soldier was anywhere to be found.

You stopped when you stood in front of one specific lounge room; yours and James' favorite lounge room.

Lurking into the room, you glanced around.

The room looked exactly like how it did days before when you were still conscious. There are a few mugs strewn about. Most empty, conjoined in one area of the table (James' area), but there's one that's filled with your favorite drink. A drink that you don't remember making for yourself.

And it's placed right in front of your favorite chair, too. Something squeezes at your heartstrings as you couldn't help but smile fondly.

It's gone cold, you absently note as you dip a finger into it. Wiping your finger on your pants, you grabbed it and the rest of the empty cups, making a note to place them into the dishwasher when you make it into the kitchen.

"James?"

You called out, but only your voice echoed back. The cups quietly rattled with each step, and it's not long before you make it into the kitchen. It, too, looks the same, but there's a thin layer of dust only a clean freak would notice. The sink is empty and clear of any beads of water. Unused for a little bit, you concluded.

Yeesh.

You placed all of the cups into the dishwasher, which was also dry and empty as well. Sighing, you turned on the machine and jumped out of your skin when you felt a pair of built arms wrap themselves around you tightly.

It only takes a split second for you to realize that, no, this is not some ax murderer that's about to choke the life out of you, it's just James.

James who, apparently, is holding you flush against his chest, fingers curling themselves against your bandaged abdomen. You held back a wince of pain, careful not to make your breathing waver, as James nuzzle his whole head against the crook of your neck.

(Honestly, for someone named the Winter Soldier, he sure is warm because whew, boy-)

"Ja-"

"I thought you were gone."

His name is caught in your throat as James' voice- gritty, deep, unused- rumbles into your skin. You freeze, unsure of what to say to that as you shuddered, suddenly breathless as he mouths at your neck. Your ears turn bright red as he takes that moment to speak up, not once letting up on his fingers ghosting a trail on each muscle on your abdomen.

"You were gone. One second you were in my arms, and the next... The next, DAHLIA's tellin' me you're in a damn coma."

You winced, not sure how to respond to both what he said or the growl that accompanied it. You looked up at the camera that was in a nearby corner and threw it a withering glance, feeling slightly betrayed by DAHLIA for telling James that.

Thankfully (or probably not), James isn't really looking for a response as he continues on.

"Моя звездная пыль (My stardust)," Russian slips out, bringing a chill up your spine as bits of Winter spills out from James' fingertips, "The witch got to you, didn't she?"

Goosebumps raised on your skin, and to your silence, James snarled. You can barely feel his teeth graze on your nape, and you really don't know if you should feel embarrassed or something else.

And wow, okay, maybe you should tell James to ease up on the "hug", because holy shit, his grip's getting tighter and it's starting to actually hurt.

(Ah, he might tear the stitches.)

"HYDRA сукa...! Я убью ее...!" (HYDRA bitch...! I'll kill her...!)

You huffed, still red in the face as he hasn't even nudged away from letting you go. You patted his forearm, signaling for him to loosen up his grip, and to his credit, he does. Barely, but it was still something.

"I dunno what ya' just said in Russian, but I know what Hydra сукa means. No cussing in Russian, only in English."

He mumbles something incoherent into your shoulder, rubbing circles into your stomach with a tantalizingly slow speed. You coughed; in literally any other situation this would be one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, but considering that James was more Winter than James right now, and your stomach is literally burning in pain from the rubbing, you opted to ignore the fact that you really liked that James was this close and spoke up.

"Not to alarm you or anything, but uh, if you keep rubbing my stomach like that," your breath hitched, the pain starting to become a little too much, "I'm gonna pass out from the pain," you said, with clenched teeth.

(End of what I had written down. Anyways, not sure where I was gonna go from here.)

Ch. 17-20 are relatively short in terms of what I had written down.

Ch. 17 (Reconditioning) has 3 things typed down:

integrating the twins, thoughts of integrating bucky

supreme distrust between you and the twins

meanwhile maybe thoughts from twins abt you? you're around their age

3rd bullet introduces the idea that they might be love interests. Maybe. Shrugs. That chapter would be heavier on the character developments of the twins, both as their own persons and their relationship with you, specifically. They don't like you because you're Tony's son, still some bitter feelings there, and you don't like them because... Well... there's just a lot of bad feelings. They helped kill J.A.R.V.I.S. in your original timeline. Wanda basically fucked off with Vision. She antagonized Tony. (And there is a hypocrisy there since I would've written you to have done the same thing there. (Name) isn't perfect.)

You just didn't get along with Pietro since, back when he wasn't dead, you were immature and not yet accustomed to dealing with people who're purposefully frustrating/ teasing/ mocking/ etc. Nothing really personal with him, it's Wanda that you had beef with. But you'll get over it one day.

Ch. 18 (Longstanding) is shorter.

you and james have a talk, and after a year or two being solitary, you agree that he should be in the avengers

he joins the avengers

That's it, that's the chapter.

Ch. 19 (Accountability) deals with newer Accords (not a Sokovian one! Just from the proposed need for accountability).

It goes better around this time, as basically all of the Avengers agree to it, with their own caveats of course. Steve especially, but of course, he's willing to work with the governments about it this time around. Also, Peter Parker gets introduced, in accordance with the "underaged enhanced/ superheroes" clause, or some bull like that.

Ch. 20 (Wakanda) is basically the intro to CA:CW but like, civilized. No bombing since Zemo still has his family. Introduces Wakanda, and T'Challa as a potential love interest. If you're interested in IronPanther, I highly recommend reading the IronPanther Collection by Okyverlo on AO3. It's great and got me a lot of interest in T'Challa as a love interest.

As for official chapters with the plot, that's about it. I wasn't sure what to do afterward.

There were some loose ideas I had about what would happen to (Name). Maybe the truth is revealed, that you're actually from the future, and Dr. Strange separates past and future you into two separate bodies. Future! you into your original future body, and past! you into the current body. Past! you still have the same memories and thoughts that future! you had, but with less angst. Future! you is noticeably more depressed and just a bummer. Lol.

And after that, 2023! you would go back to the future where you belonged, and Past! you would stay in the present since, duh, that's still Past! you's original timeline. It's a little confusing when I type it down haha.

I was thinking maybe 2023! you would pair up with Steve since you realized how burdensome it is to continue to resent someone. Now you understood what Tony meant.

And Past! you would definitely pair up with James, but maybe Steve too. A nice lil' polygamous relationship.

Now here's the other, non-official chapters.

2 What If's, and 3 Specials, in the order they're listed at the moment.

What If (2013 Counterpart) plays with an initial idea I had, where Past! (Name) was actually sent into the future into 2023! (Name)'s body during the prologue. Not sure where I was gonna go with this chapter, but I really wanted to mess with that possibility, and show just how immature and teenager-y Past! you were.

What If (Swapped Places) plays with the idea that you and Tony, in the original timeline, had swapped places. You were on Titan with Spiderman, Dr. Strange, and the GOTG, while Tony was on Earth with everyone else. That's all I had planned. Maybe you actually won and managed to get the gauntlet off of Thanos when you realized that Peter Quill was about to go crazy over his ex's death, and you knocked him down in time.

Special (Find My Body, Only At The Oak Tree), deals with you and your depression over the reality that you might have to relive the blip again, and aside from the Avengers, you really don't have anyone else and nothing's worth really living for at this point. I actually have a lot written for this one. Not sure if I wanted this to be canon.

Trigger warning: suicidal tendencies.

(Below is the general idea I had for the plot.)

(names) birthdays across the years so far

we see slow mental deterioration of (name) as he aches

we see as we reach closer and closer to the deadline, (name) dreads even thinking about thanos and wants to die before even looking at him, a symbol of their failure

lowkey highkey suicidal

___

The first time you celebrated your 17th birthday was in 2014.

The second time you celebrated your 17th birthday was also in 2014... Obviously.

The first time you celebrated your 17th birthday, the whole tower was flooded with people who you knew and people who you couldn't care to know. It was filled with what little was left of your friend group outside of the Avengers; it was also filled with the rich, the pompous, the irritating of New York.

You got into a yelling match with your dad that night, over something you couldn't even bother to remember, and stormed off into your room, fuming as the party still went on without their birthday boy present.

(It's always like that as if you're replaceable. Surely, you must be; the Avengers can and will, if need be, exist without you.)

The second time you celebrated your 17th birthday, you told your dad you wanted it to be small and personal. Only the Avengers were there, as a few days ago did you spend a pre-birthday celebration with some of your high school 'friends' (which only mainly consisted of playing Smash Bros Brawl in your room and eating an ungodly amount of junk food as you fake laughed along with their shitty jokes.) (Steve promptly made you burn those calories off in training.).

(What Steve doesn't know is that you purposefully ate that much to train with him; otherwise, you had the whole day off the next day.

You didn't want to be alone.)

It was sweet as everyone gave their gifts to you (which you already knew what it was, but said nothing of it), and as everyone got drunk off of the expensive liquor or Asgardian mead, you quietly snuck out of the building and back into the safe house where James was waiting for you.

(He waits, but how much of it is because he has no other choice?

It is not like that, you keep reminding yourself.

Who is to say, other than you?

James never says anything of it, and you start to wonder if he feels as if he has no choice.

As if he feels like he's been made another prisoner, once again.

At what point, what is separating the distinction between you and HYDRA, in his mind?

You're not too keen on finding out the answer anytime soon.)

The whole way there, you thought of nothing in particular.

You quietly celebrated with him too, shared a few slices of cake he made just for you before you quietly said goodnight to him. He kissed you on the cheek, said a simple goodnight, and slipped away into his own bedroom.

Meanwhile, you spent the rest of the night drinking too much alcohol, alone, in the dark of your room, staring at nothing in particular, thinking about nothing in particular.

The next morning, you jokingly wished you had just died last night as you're bent over the toilet emptying your stomach contents.

___

The first time you celebrated your 18th birthday, you spent it outside in another country with your friends.

The second time you celebrated your 18th birthday party, you rented out a bumper kart arena with the Avengers.

The first time you celebrated your 18th birthday, you tried desperately to hang onto the remaining friends you had outside of the Avengers, a chance to feel normal for once. You practically went hiking across Europe and into Asia over the week of your birthday, and by God did you visit so many places. From the Louvre to the casinos in New Deli, you trekked everywhere with your friends and acted as a cash pig for their endeavors under the guise of celebrating your birthday. Least to say, you always got 'accidentally' blackout drunk on multiple occasions, oblivious to their actions.

Later you found out and cut them off instantly without another word. They didn't seem to notice that you stopped talking to them.

It hurt.

Pointless of you to try to maintain that friendship.

So on your next 18th birthday, having long forgone those friendships ages ago, you suggested going bumper karting with the Avengers. Bruce operated as the 'coach' of sorts, but he seemed to have enjoyed it as well.

It was fun, obviously.

It went on for a few hours, as you all had made up mini-games to play along with as they got bored of chasing after each other aimlessly for half an hour. A few games had you pairing up with some of the Avengers; the other had them actually using their skills to try to maim each other.

(Wanda at one point lifted everyone into the air as Pietro zoomed through the rink; though, he did slip and slam into the wall. Everyone laughed, but it was interrupted as Wanda promptly dropped everyone out of shock.

Everyone was too busy in their own shock as well to notice your labored breathes, wild crazed eyes, or how you clawed viciously at your throat at the sight of Wanda's red wisps. Your fingers were tinted a sick vermilion.

Thankfully, the arena was relatively dim, so no one could tell what just happened.)

It was fun. Everyone didn't hold their shoves back, and when things riled up, it turned into who would break a bone first. No one did, but everyone was definitely sore afterward. Of course, the enhanced ones didn't limp as much, but it made your limp nothing out of the ordinary.

(You tried your most damn not to just collapse completely, both exhaustion and pain threatening to snap your spine into little bits and pieces.

You jokingly wished it did.)

Thankfully, during the whole ordeal, no one noticed how you didn't avoid obvious hits, instead opting to just get harshly jostled in your kart and neck snapped haphazardly to the side at the sudden jolt. Or how you 'accidentally' keep forgetting to put on your seat belt or keep your fingers inside the kart.

Or at least, if they noticed, no one said anything as you limped around the tower the next day, bruises marred everywhere on your skin, a sheen of sweat blanketed on your skin throughout the whole day.

___

The first time you celebrated your 19th birthday, you were too swamped with both college and SI to actually... Celebrate.

You didn't even realize it was your birthday. No one did, actually; it took one of your professors to comment on how your name was trending on Twitter to actually get you to realize what the day was.

But even that didn't change your schedule, and as you moved on with your day, so did Twitter and the Avengers.

You never got to celebrate your 19th birthday, too swamped with other things to care.

The second time you celebrated your 19th birthday, you had too much free time in the world.

It ended up being just like your 17th. The Avengers had a little get-together (they remembered this time; what made it so different?) and all of them got drunk wildly off their asses. Once again, you slipped away from the main lounge, and stalked silently, blank-faced, towards a balcony.

You adjusted your collar appropriately and stood there. You stared outside into the bustling busy streets of New York, the city that never sleeps.

(Strange, that it's named that when often times it's the quietest whenever you're there to see it.)

You spend maybe 10 minutes standing there, staring into the oblivion that is New York.

And then, you climbed onto the railings.

Standing there, there was no rush of adrenaline that coursed its way through your veins, nor was there any fear or dread.

Only an overwhelming and crippling exhaustion that made waves through your body. No longer are you in your 19-year-old body, but your 27th. No longer are you in your younger, former self; one that shone brightly above the others, aspiring as both a heroic figure and one that would help pave the way towards a better, peaceful world.

No, instead, your soul feels like it's settled deep into your bones, an aching tire that keeps rocking and rattling at your already fractured, beaten down body, laughing at how pathetic you look.

(You're so tired.

You just wanted to live normally.

You never can, you eventually come to realize on your first 24th birthday.

That thought, now fully realized, would come to permeate it's way deep into your bones.)

All you wanted to do was to just take one step forward, off of the railing that you're so delicately balanced upon, and dive into air headfirst.

Really, all it takes is just one step.

And truly, you've never felt more at peace as your body dropped from the railings, descended quickly towards the streets below you.

What should've been a quick few seconds of a dive felt like an eternity drowning in a bottomless pool. The lights of New York flashed and beamed at you, but it changed rapidly from one to another. Your throat closes, shuttering, and you want so desperately to start screaming.

Only, no one would hear them.

The winds would carry away your screams, rushing a sound of its own that would overpower yours.

You wonder, absently, was this similar to what Rhodey felt that day?

Well.

You'd never really find out, now, will you?

Too late to ask.

(There's no way to get back home.

You can never see Morgan again- the Morgan that called you her big Care Bear, the Morgan that cried and threw a temper tantrum because you forgot to give her a goodnight kiss.

You can never see mom and dad again- while they're still here, it's just not the same. You'll never get to see the same Pepper who was so relieved just to see you alive after the Battle of Wakanda, even if you were practically on your death bed. You'll never get to see the same Tony who you spent hours crying into the shoulder of after the Blip.

You can never see the same Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, anyone, ever again.

Years spent just trying to be better, to help the world, to mend and build any relationships you could, gone.

And even if they weren't?

There's just no way to get back home anymore. Not back to the person you used to be.)

The next day, you got an earful from your parents when photos of your falling body appear all over the internet. All the meanwhile, you're not really listening to them, just staring right back at them.

Odd.

('When did you start looking at me with contempt?', you'd ask one day.

Tony just stares at you, then out the window. In his hand, he's holding a cup of coffee; in yours, water. You've since stopped drinking anything remotely sugary, caffeinated, or alcoholic, though you've never told anyone why.

'When did you start mistaking concern with contempt.', he responded, though it was more of a statement rather than a question.

You stared at him, then followed his gaze out the window.

Neither of you says anything, even as the hours go by in the blink of an eye.)

(That's all I had written down so far. Not sure where I wanted to go with this afterwards.)

Special (Vapidity, Testament To Absence) deals with future DAHLIA realizing what it means to mourn someone.

The house is empty.

It is an irrelevant thought, DAHLIA notes.

Technically speaking, the house has been empty quite often than not; after all, you were a busy man with an equally busy schedule. Being the CEO of SI and a huge contributing factor to the world's rebuilding made it more or less impossible for you to stay at home for long. Though, she also doesn't linger long in the house, either. But she's still there regardless, even if she's also with you on the other side of the planet for diplomatic reasons.

She knows of the emptiness inside this house; it was never an unfamiliar concept.

But with this emptiness, she's never once associated loneliness with it either.

It's a bit better when Virginia occasionally comes around to the house to do some maintenance. She might even bring along little Morgan with her.

("You keep saying she's a pest, but I know I sure as hell ain't the one that keeps shifting the TV to the kids' channels when she's around," you comment, not even taking your eyes off of the pan. DAHLIA says nothing towards your accusations, instead opting to tell you that you're burning your eggs.

You aren't, but she says nothing amidst your panic.)

A few others occasionally visit, too, much to DAHLIA's internal disapproval.

Rogers used to visit every day ever since she first noted the emptiness. His behavior was also peculiar. He'd prowl around the house, pausing here and there at random parts of the house. He'd often just... Stand there, seemingly looking at nothing for a long period, before jolting back and continue what he was doing. She's thankful that he hasn't noted her silence when he's around.

Often Banner would come along too, and he'd be talking quietly with Rogers. As of recently, they've stopped visiting though. Probably because of the recent news (that (Name) might still be alive, just lost in time), DAHLIA almost bitterly notes.

James ("Just call him Rhodey- literally no one calls him James nowadays." you laugh, eyes crinkling with amusement) visits too. He doesn't linger for long, but he makes sure to check up on DAHLIA, help tend to the flowers... She'd even dare say she wishes he'd visit more often.

Peter also visits here and there as well. He often comes with Morgan and Virginia, but there have been a few occasions where he's come here by himself. He'd spend most of his time in the garden, your favorite place. And when he's alone, she'd given him privacy out of respect, but even at a long distance, she can hear him talking by himself. He'd come back eyes red and swollen, but he's always smiling afterward.

A few others have visited too, but not as often as the others. Though, none of that really helps negate the emptiness she feels as she wordlessly navigates through a routine she devoted herself to after your disappearance.

And the final chapter, Special (Chemically Compromised) is basically a fluff filler with (Name) chaperoning Peter's field trip, inspired by an Instagram post.

Written in bits and pieces, unfinished. Not sure if I wanted it to be romantic (the name implies it in a nerdy way) or just a fun, platonic, "dude you're literally embarrassing me" way.

(Peter) "I can't believe you're doing this...!"

(Name) "What? What's wrong with this?"

Pan to (Name) dressing like he's a Typical, Normal Civilian Man, but it's clearly (Name) Stark, son of Tony Stark, and an Avenger.

(Peter) "I don't need you to chaperone my field trip...! May could've done this-"

(Name) "No, she really couldn't, sweetheart. She's got a busy shift, and even told me that no one else's parents was free."

(Name) "Listen- this really could have gone worse if, say, Tony, knew. God knows Tony would've dropped everythin' and just embarrass ya- he did that shit to me every chance he got," Peter winces, almost forgetting that Tony was still your dad, and a chill ran up his spine as he imagined what it would have been like for you.

(Peter) "But still..."

(Name) "Don't worry, I'll just wear a cap and sunglasses."

(Peter) "That can't possibly work."

(Name) "You'd be surprised- Sam's standin' down there, right near that phone booth."

Peter's head snapped over to where you were pointing at, and indeed, right on the floors of the Manhattan streets, there was a relatively built black guy that's wearing a cap, sunglasses, and a brown leather jacket. Peter tilted his head.

He hasn't been around Sam all that much, but he still knows what the Avenger looked like. But even then, he wasn't sure if that man was actually Sam. He's built right, but Peter can't see much of his hair or eyes. Plus, he's kind of far away.

He squinted at the man, before glancing back at you, now unsure of himself.

(Peter) "That's really the Falcon?"

You stared at him, before snorting.

(Name) "Nah, I'm joshin' ya, that's just some random guy...", you glance at the man, sniffing, "... Probably."

That's... pretty much it. That's all I had for Restart, as far as writing goes.

Now here are some closing thoughts, just to wrap all of this up nice and tight, sort of.

I'm not really happy with how the initial chapters were paced and how they were written. My writing style has mildly changed, and if I had the motivation to, I'd love to rewrite them. But alas, I don't.

I think about this story often; or at least, variations of it. It's like when you daydream, and you restart it but to the left. But unfortunately, writing a plot without too many plot holes while remaining as canonically correct as possible, and making it interesting without being a complete word-by-word remake of the movies, is difficult.

I'm not sure if I would ever pick up this story again, especially since this whole chapter told you what I had in store anyways.

Thank you to those who took the time out of their day to write nice and encouraging comments about this story. It's unfortunate it had to end this way, but I'm glad it happened anyways. And hopefully, it's the same for you.

And remember: the one thing writers love to do is talk about their story! If you have any other comments, questions, or just general thoughts about the story, I'd love to discuss it further!

Anyways. If you're reading this now, thanks for sticking with Restart for as long as you did.

_____

Masterlist

_____

I know I had people on the tagged list, but it’s a bit hard to get them all as URL’s change, so I opted not to. Sorry!

#male reader #avengers x male reader #steve rogers x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #avengers #reader insert #avengers x reader #restart

99 notes · View notes

anambermusicbox · 3 years ago

Text

September 29 Day Countdown (26/29): 2016-2018 Radio Interviews on 动感101《小畅翻牌》

2016/12/20

(2:00) Interviewer, knowing Ukraine has renowned music schools, thought Zhou Shen went to Ukraine specifically to study music before she found out he actually was in dentistry and then switched to music; she asks why he went to Ukraine to study.

Zhou Shen: Simple! Because it’s cheap. (T/N: it’s extremely extremely cheap compared to studying abroad in other countries, and Zhou Shen’s family was quite poor)

(3:00) How did you win your parents over?

ZS: I didn’t. I told them, “Hey, I don’t think I can do this” and they were like “What?” I said, “I really can’t do this.” At first, they didn’t really understand what I was going through at the time. They said, even if I had to retake a year or two, they wanted me to keep going. They said, then take some time to improve in the language. I said, “I really can’t do this anymore,” they said no, and later I went against their wishes and applied to the music conservatory anyways.

(7:30) ZS talks about how he didn’t talk to his parents for months after switching schools, until finally his parents told him, “Then in the future, whatever you do is no longer our concern” and then hung up on him.

ZS: (8:10) They said, okay we’re not giving you money for school, you figure it out yourself. But parents are like this: they say things but don’t go through with it. So they gave me money for tuition but nothing to cover living expenses. (*laughs*) (Interviewer: They said, whether you eat or not is no longer our concern) Yup. (*laughs*) They said they’d give me money for living expenses only if I studied medicine or language. So I had to borrow money from a classmate for food. I held out for 2 months, starved for 2 months before they said, okay since you’re this persistent, even though we’re still against this- (Interviewer: They still don’t want their son to starve to death) Right, they didn’t want to lose a kid. (*laughs*)

Interviewer: (9:00) When did their attitude finally soften towards your decision?

ZS: After the Voice. (T/N: ZS didn’t tell his parents before he competed on the show; they found out along with the rest of the public when it aired) [...] They thought, ah okay he’ll be able to take care of himself now, he knows what he’s doing.

Interviewer: (9:50) Are they proud of you?

ZS: Oh yeah, they’re absolutely embarrassing. (*laughs*) After the episode aired, my parents- they run a small business, and customers who came by, my parents would be like, “Look :) who this is :)” and the customer would be like “…??…uuhh who is-“ “ITS HUAN YAN, OUR SON SANG IT!!!” (*laughs*) and then the customer is like “uuhhh ehhrmm….” I wanted to die from the embarrassment oh my gOD, it was so awkward. So awkward. Afterwards, I started avoiding being with them when they were with people. (*laughs*) They- they’re parents; they were happy, and then they started to worry. (*laughs*) This career... how long would I be able to do it for...

(11:50) ZS talks about how surprised he was by how popular Big Fish was; after only a few days, a lot of covers started appearing online. The singers for Big Fish and Begonia’s other OSTs were very big names, Eason Chan and Lala Hsu.

ZS: At first, they planned to have another very big name singer to sing Big Fish (T/N: it was supposed to be Faye Wong!), but because of reasons, their plan never came to fruition. The song’s lyricist, Yin Yue, she’s really too good to me. She kept insisting to the director, “Zhou Shen can sing this song, you should let him try,” but the director honestly didn’t care. The production company and the director, they wanted someone had enough influence to promote the film. (Interviewer: But congratulations to them, they ended up choosing the right person for the song! :D)

(19:30) ZS: “[After Masked Singer], my parents, they posted a WeChat moment they was quite touching—they said “Our son sang so well and seeing him work so hard—we want him to continue singing.” (Interviewer: Oh so they go online often?”) Yeah, only because I spent years teaching them.” (*laughs*)

(19:45) ZS: “Every time I come home, my parents play my songs non-stop. I asked them, aren’t you sick of listening to it? Later I asked my sister, and she told me they play my songs all the time everyday. I felt like, wah (Interviewer: “All these years of being a host, and my own parents are the most avid viewers of my program.”) Wow… auntie uncle, I’m very sorry… (T/N: LKJNASFDFA THIS MADE ME SPIT OUT MY FOOD I WAS EATING HAHAHA) they’re gonna hate me. [...] I think, being a parent is really such hard work.”

2016/12/17

(5:30) ZS talks about how he didn’t sing at all during in his middle school years. Interviewer asks whether he ever tried to conceal his being different from everyone else.

ZS: Actually, when you listen to me talk, I- all these years I’ve already gotten accustomed to making my voice lower, it’s a force of habit. I’ve forgotten what my regular voice is supposed to be like. If I relaxed my throat while speaking it would sound like this—thinner, higher. But now I can’t go back.

(7:50) Interviewer asks whether he’ll try out different styles of music:

ZS: I think right now, people don’t know me well yet. I want people to first know who Zhou Shen is, what kind of songs he sings, and then try other genres, and only then will people want to listen. If release a song, people will be like, who’s Zhou Shen and won’t try listening to it—and if they listen and it’s a genre I’m not good at? Wow, no one’s going to listen.

2018/02/03

(1:50) ZS: “Well for one thing, I really hate my voice. (Interviewer: Why?) A male with this kind of voice is really weird. (Interviewer: It’s unique! It’s memorable. Can you find other people with this kind of voice?) Yup. My dad. (*laughs*) One time, my manager called my dad and he- “Hello?” “Oh hello auntie-” I was like “wAIT WAIT WAIT that’s my dad” (*laughs*) (Interviewer: Can he sing too?) No way, he scares people to death when he sings, he can’t sing. (*laughs*)

(7:45) After Big Fish was released:

ZS: Everyone seemed to like it, it felt- Eh? This is great. After about two weeks though, comments started to appear like: “just found out a man sang this and I feel like vomiting, I deleted this song immediately.” And it wasn’t just this one, there were many comments like it. It was extremely upsetting. I felt like, one of those characters in a sad drama, the kind that gets abandoned and they’re crying like “what did I do to you to make you treat me like this? TT^TT”

Interviewer: It’s like, even if there’s a whole pile of positive comments, if there’s one negative, that’s the one you pay attention to. Even if there are 100 nice comments—

ZS: —if there’s one hurtful comment, that’s the one that sticks with you, exactly! Everyone has this tendency.

(7:20) ZS talks about his duet with Guo Qin again (see translation from another interview talking about it here), how he was just as nervous as he was in his own blind audition and how he would’ve blamed himself if she had lost: “She’s 17—super young, makes me so mad—and she was sitting so calmly; meanwhile, I was standing there, all my limbs trembling—like, who’s supposed to be helping who here?” (*laughs*)

(14:45) About how he’s grateful that he didn’t get popular overnight:

ZS: If I got popular overnight, I think it would’ve been over for me. Because my singing really did need improvement. Also, I think my album is really important in that in helped me get through a bottleneck period. At that time, I felt like, no matter how I sang it didn’t sound good. I felt like, can I even sing? But the process of recording this album helped me to see where I needed to improve.

So if I got popular overnight, it really would’ve been over for me, because my singing wouldn’t have improved. It would’ve stopped there. (Interviewer: And you would still believe that you’re really good.) Everyone around you is praising you like (*rapid clapping*) “You sing so well!! You sing so well!! Look at how everyone wants to hire you to sing, you sing super well!!” It’s over- it would really be over. […] I quite like progressing one step at a time.

(18:10) Zhou Shen talks about how, when he got eliminated on the Voice, he wasn’t crying because he lost, but because suddenly going from spending so much time together as a team and having such camaraderie to all but four eliminated was too heartbreaking.

ZS: (20:20) When I got eliminated, I was actually really happy. I don’t like competing, and I felt I didn’t have any pressure on me anymore. I felt bad for Li Wei because I knew there would definitely be a lot more pressure on him now, because now he has to represent our entire team in the future competition.

After our PK, he—because we both cried so hard—he said (*shrill crying voice*) “Zhou Shen I’ll carry your name and compete to the end!! TT^TT” (*Interviewer laughs*) and I replied, (*shrill crying voice*) “You shouldn’t give yourself so much pressure, don’t carry my name just sing TT^TT” (*laughs*)

You don’t understand how hard we were crying. After the PK, there had to be a 25-minute intermission because Na-jie had to cry too. So she’s there crying in the mentor area and I’m crying in the eliminated area and Li Wei’s crying in the advancement area. [...] During the blind auditions, every single person earned their place in the team one by one, and now all of them are being taken out one by one—it was quite brutal.

2018/02/10

(1:30) Zhou Shen talks about how he has a longer process to be accepted compared to other singers, because they first have to get over the fact that a man has this type of voice before they truly listen to him sing. Some people react like, WOW amazing!! while others are on the other end of the spectrum:

ZS: Once, I was at a restaurant and at that time, they were broadcasting the blind auditions of the Voice. The restaurant owner just happened to be watching it, and when I appeared, he was like “Eh? Who’s this- WAH-“ and immediately changed the channel. I was like ??? D’: ????? “…can I have some water?” (*laughs*) He changed the channel right in front of me, you know? He didn’t recognize me. It was- (*makes disgruntled noises*) It was really upsetting.

(2:20) ZS, about being on Masked Singer: “That was the first time I felt acknowledged by the sentence ‘wow this girl sings so well!’”

(20:30) In the three years since your debut, have you ever seen a fan who, because of your songs or your voice, their life changed?

ZS: Have I seen that personally? That would be impossible, but I have read about it in letters and comments. There was one comment, this person—they had depression, the kind that they were being prescribed medication for—but they started listening to my music and slowly started to become happier, their mental health improved. I was so astonished—music is really so powerful.

Another one was- to be honest, men with this type of voice are actually not uncommon. It’s really not just me. Once, I was at karaoke with an old schoolmate—middle school or high school, I forget—and he said, “because of you, Zhou Shen, because you sang in that competition [the Voice], I’m now brave enough to sing at karaoke. It feels like, even with this kind of voice, I can sing too.” That moment—I was so moved.

2018/05/19

(3:45) ZS talks about how Gao Xiaosong was really satisfied with how the album turned out, and how Gao Xiaosong is actually really thin.

Interviewer: Why do you always have to mention that? No one is asking about whether he’s fat or thin.

ZS, joking: How else do you think I got this album—I kept complimenting him as thin (T/N: HAHAHAHAHA)

#zhou shen #周深 #my translations #zs 29 #mine #puts this in the queue at 4 am 2 hours before the scheduled time.......#so much for fixing my sleep schedule OTL #so tired... i'll check for typos later asdfaADFAS #im just *chucks this at u*#this is why im only translating highlights LMAO #this interviewer is actually a host with shenshen as a guest on her show but im just using the same terminology to be consistent LOL #its definitely an interview anyways #check notes later for bilibili link!#edit: OKAY TYPOES SHOULD BE FIXED NOW HAHAHA THANKS EVERYONE

20 notes · View notes

sunlightdances · 4 years ago

Text

Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me (Soulmate!AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, feat. platonic Steve, platonic Tony and a brief cameo by Agents of SHIELD. Rating/warnings: T (for language), mentions of PTSD and anxiety, a little angst. Many of our characters being adorably dense. Words: 14,418 (literally why am I like this) Summary: Bucky Barnes’ soul mark appeared on his left arm when he was seventeen years old. His injury and HYDRA took it from him, but does the mark have to physically exist for the connection to take hold? Author’s Note: Post-CA:CW. Assume Tony helped Steve and Bucky get out of Siberia and finds out the truth about his parents from Steve. AU after that. This idea literally came to me when I was shampooing my hair and I wrote a good chunk of it immediately afterwards. This idea has been done before, but I hope you like my take on it! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, or canon elements from the movies, tv shows, or comics. All of that belongs to Marvel. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission. Reblogs are encouraged!

When Bucky Barnes is seventeen years old, a charcoal black swirl of ivy and leaves appears on his left arm.

He spent a lot of time panicking and then trying to find his soulmate, feeling disappointed almost every time he left a date with flushed cheeks and a charming smile only to remember that they didn’t have a mark, or had one that didn’t match his.

He forgot about it as soon as the war was on - bigger things to worry about then.

He enlisted because he wanted to make something of himself, but there was always the possibility burning in his mind that he might meet them. No matter what persona he tries to put on, he’s a romantic at heart. The singing under his breath, buying flowers for pretty girls, romance paperbacks in his back pocket type.

There’s no semblance of romance in war.

His days are never ending - walking, walking, brief bursts of combat. Shouting orders at his platoon, all of them trying to pretend they were feeling more courageous than they were. Still, he spares a few thoughts for his soulmate. When he takes a bullet to his shoulder in France, he hopes they can’t feel it.

He thought that was the worst it could get. He was wrong.

When he’s half conscious in the snow after falling from the train, praying for someone, anyone, to come looking for him, he feels guilt, and regret, and then doesn’t feel anything at all.

It happens in flashes - a medical exam table, a German accent, a shock to his entire body when all he does is repeat his name, rank, and serial number.

In a brief moment of lucidity, he lifts his left hand. He tries to see the mark, one more time, tries to orient himself with the one thing that’s remained constant for almost the last ten years of his life.

It isn’t there.

His arm, gone. The leafy scrawl with it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one, to someone, and then it all goes black.

The sun streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest room you’ve been assigned is the first thing that wakes you, followed shortly by a disembodied voice calling your name. You have a brief moment of panic, sitting upright in bed, until you remember where you are.

Avengers Tower.

“Miss?” The kind voice inquires again.

“Sorry. Yes, I’m here, sort of,” you reply, looking-- where do you look when you’re talking to an AI?

“Captain Rogers is requesting your presence in the third floor kitchen.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a half hour,” you reply.

“He said to tell you no matter your response that you have fifteen minutes.”

You scowl. “Awesome,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the side of the plush mattress. “Tell him I’ll get there when I get there, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

FRIDAY is silent, but you suspect the message has been delivered. Yawning, you walk to the en suite bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Hair? A rat’s nest. Skin? Could not look more dull. You really need to get more sleep, you think, but apparently that’s not going to start today.

Twenty minutes later, you step out of the glass elevator and into the brightly lit kitchen. There’s not many people milling about, and you discover why when you come across a clearly agitated Captain Steve Rogers at the large table, leg bouncing and chewing on the end of a pen.

“Morning,” you say when you get within earshot.

“You’re late.”

“You never told me we had an appointment,” you point out, swiping a muffin from the large plate in the middle of the table where he’s sitting, and slide into the seat across from him.

“I asked you to come here for a few days, didn’t I?” He looks up, revealing dark circles and day-old stubble. He’s got a pile of papers on the table in front of him, and a cup of half-drank coffee off to one side.

You hum in agreement, “And you’ve been very secretive about it all. Barely gave me time to pack a bag.” A wink, so he knows you’re (mostly) joking. “Not very gentlemanly, Captain.”

“Bucky’s arriving today.” He blurts, and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Steve--” You breathe, suddenly understanding his nervousness.

“I sent Sam to get him a week ago, if he even wanted to come back to New York.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “Figured it might do some good to have someone… non-partial around.”

“This is…” You shake your head, “Wow, Steve. This is good, right?”

He exhales. “It’s-- yeah. More than good.” He meets your eyes, “I need you to give him a physical, just a regular check up. Protocol.”

You’re already nodding. “I’ll get the lab set up, although are you sure you don’t want Dr. Cho--”

“I want it to be you,” Steve explains, “You’re-- well, I think he’d like you, that’s all.” You must be blushing because he quickly backtracks. “I just mean that you’re a friend! My friend. He’ll trust you because I do.”

“Jeepers, Steve,” you tease, “Getting my heart all aflutter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll have FRIDAY let you know when he’s settled? Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You nod. “I get it. Just let me know.” Impulsively, you get out of your chair and hug Steve from behind, sort of wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m really happy for you.”

He squeezes your hands, a long breath leaving him like he’s been holding it for awhile. “Thank you.”

It’s hours before you’re summoned, and you feel strangely nervous. You don’t really know what to expect. Sure, as trauma-nurse turned Avengers in-house care, you obviously know who Bucky Barnes is, and what he means to Steve Rogers. You were beginning to think you’d never meet him, though.

You follow voices until you get to your “office”, which is really just an open-air lab not dissimilar to the one Dr. Banner has for himself down the hall. Yours is less tech-savvy, though. You have office hours like any other doctor, and typically don’t live at the Tower unless a mission is wrapping up, or you’re on call.

You semi-retired after everything went down with SHIELD, but had been part of Steve’s team there, so you’re sort of contracting for the Avengers whenever things are scary enough that they need a full time physician.

Turning a corner, you see the back of Steve’s head as he sits in a chair across from the imposing figure that must be James Barnes.

You clear your throat and try to make your footsteps a little louder so you don’t interrupt them, but then remember they’re both super soldiers. They definitely have already heard you coming.

Steve greets you by name and introduces you to Bucky, who surprises you with a quick smile and a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his voice somehow gruff and gentle all at the same time.

“You too,” you say. “Steve’s filled me in on the basics, but this is just a physical so we have your information on file. Nothing invasive, no needles, and nothing gets touched unless you say so, okay?”

He looks like he wants to smirk at your wording, but you can tell he’s a little tense and nervous too. You’ve thought about what to say to him and how to do this exam. You know he’s spent most of his life doing things without his consent, including receiving whatever poor medical care he was given.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and hops up on the exam table when you ask him to.

The entire exam only takes about ten minutes, until the only thing you have left to ask about is the arm. You sneak a glance at Steve, who’s chewing on his bottom lip. He gives you a small nod, so you take a deep breath and turn back to Bucky.

“I have to ask you a few questions about this.” You tell him, gesturing towards his left arm.

He flinches, barely noticeable if you weren’t standing right in front of him. “What do you want to know?” He leans in, voice conspiratorial, and whispers, “This isn’t my real arm.”

You’re momentarily stunned, but a breathless laugh escapes. Okay. Maybe this isn’t going to be as awful as you worried it might be, for him or for you.

Later, you’re in the kitchen with Steve and Sam, a glass of wine in front of each of you as you pick at your dinner. The rest of the Avengers are on a small mission, Falcon and Cap staying behind to look after the newest member of their team.

They don’t say it, but they’re worried.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts, “Sergeant Barnes is experiencing some distress.”

The three of you stand, but Steve waves you off. “It’s a nightmare,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.” He takes a few steps and stops, not turning around. “FRIDAY will let you know if I need help.”

Sam’s face is tight with worry when he sits back down with you.

“What’s your take on this, Sam?” You ask, “Really. Honest assessment.”

“I think he needs help,” Sam says, and for a second you’re not sure if he means Steve, or Bucky. “He’s been through a lot. He’s a lot better physically, and some mentally, too. But there’s still-- it’s PTSD. He’s been a combat soldier for 70 years of his life, a POW. You can’t recover from that in a few months or even a few years.”

“I’ll try to help if I can,” you reassure him. “If he’ll let me.”

Sam stands up to leave, probably to check on Steve. He squeezes your shoulder as he walks behind you. “I know you will. Thanks, kid.”

You don’t respond, not even to dispute him acting like he’s so much older than you. Your brain is too busy trying to figure out what to do next.

The next few weeks go by in a similar fashion. You take up semi-permanent residence at the Tower.

Bucky sticks to his room a lot, though you see him sparring with Steve or hanging out with Sam in the common room a few times.

He doesn’t seek you out, and you don’t bother him except for subtly asking FRIDAY to let you know if he’s experiencing any distress that requires medical attention.

Now, you’re in the kitchen with Steve, eating at the large island and watching him warily. “Steve. You’re pacing.”

“I know I’m pacing.”

You set your fork down. “Why are you pacing?”

“I’m taking Bucky to Brooklyn today.”

You blink, eyes wide. “Whoa. That’s-- wow, that’s great! Was it your idea, or--”

“It was his, actually.” Steve stops pacing long enough to meet your eyes. “I’m a little worried it might be too much once we get there. Once he sees how much has changed…” He trails off. “I remember when I first went back. It was too much all at once.”

“Can I offer you some non-professional advice? As a friend?”

Steve still looks wary, but he nods.

“You gotta have a little faith in him, Steve. He’s been through a lot, yes. You’re still learning who he is right now. But he was in Wakanda for a year. Recovering only half of that time. He’s had time to catch up, to figure out how to be a person with agency. If he says he wants to do this, he probably does. You have to trust him.”

A movement from the doorway catches your attention and you flush when you see Bucky come into the kitchen slowly, looking a little sheepish. Damn these supersoldiers and their stealth. “Uh-- sorry to interrupt. Bad time?”

Steve smiles, though it’s a little shaky. “No, just talking to Doc here about coming with us to Brooklyn today.”

Your eyes widen as you whip around to face Steve, who sends you a pleading look quickly before Bucky sees him.

“Oh.” Bucky looks a little disappointed, but you don’t take it personally.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say, “I know you had plans with Steve,”

Bucky waves a hand, “No, it’s fine, really. Could probably use someone around to make sure we don’t kill each other.”

You and Steve both freeze, and Bucky looks back and forth between you. “That was a joke.”

You’re the first to smile, and you’re doing it mostly for Bucky’s benefit, but also in hopes that Steve will relax a little bit. You know it’s not healthy for him to be this worried all the time. You also know that Bucky will never truly be at ease if Steve doesn’t start treating him like his friend again.

“I guess if I’m going to get a tour, I couldn’t ask for better guides,” you say, heading out to grab a jacket and your wallet.

A half hour later, you’re getting off the subway and heading into one of Brooklyn’s old neighborhoods. Bucky appears outwardly calm, but you could see how tense he was when you were on the train, and the way his eyes darted around cooly, mapping out all the entrances and exits. It’s the same thing you see Sam and Steve do, maybe more subtly, when you go out with them.

They all do it, really. The Avengers are battle weary already, and you wish you could give that sense of calm back to them.

“I’m going to grab a coffee,” you tell Steve and Bucky as you mill about on the street. You get the idea that neither of them has thought this through very much - they don’t really know where to go first. “Do you want anything?”

“Two black coffees. Is that okay?” Steve says, looking at Bucky.

“Add a little sugar to Steve’s. He won’t complain but he’ll make a face every time he takes a drink.” Bucky says, and you snort.

“Good to know.”

Five minutes later, you’re interrupting what looks like a serious conversation between the two men with a cautious smile, and with Steve scrambling to grab the coffee carrier out of your hands before you have to juggle three cups.

“Where to?” You ask once they’re both happily sipping hot coffee, Bucky only looking mildly uncomfortable.

“I don’t really know,” Bucky admits. “Guessing our old building isn’t there anymore?”

Steve smiles. “It is, actually. We can go there first if you want.”

You follow behind them on the sidewalk as they reminisce about places they used to go, people they used to know. It’s not sad, more nostalgic, and you’re content to listen to them talk as you sip your coffee.

Bucky shoves Steve lightly as he starts to point out all the places he used to get beat up. “That alley,” Steve points, “and behind that butcher shop--”

“I think she gets it.”

You laugh, “Tony should make landmark signs. We can put them in all your favorite places,” you tease, and Steve glares.

“You’re hilarious.”

You pull on his arm when Bucky suddenly stops right in front of him, keeping Steve from plowing straight into his friend’s back. You feel the mood shift and know this must be the place.

Bucky rubs at his jaw thoughtfully. “Huh. Smaller than I remember.” His voice is a little less confident than it was this morning. You stare at the building with him, trying to picture what it might have looked like decades ago. “This place was a shithole when we lived here--”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims, but he’s laughing too, turning to face his friend almost for the first time all day. You’re giggling too, and Bucky shakes his head, his smile a little smaller, but still there.

“What? We were poor.” He shuffles his feet a little. “I loved it here. No better place than that apartment.” He inhales sharply before meeting Steve’s gaze, “Wait, no one-- we don’t know anyone who still--”

“No,” Steve says quietly, carefully. “No one we know still lives here. I checked when I first got out of the ice.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t-- I don’t want to know about them yet. Any of them.”

You assume he’s talking about his family, and whoever might still be alive. You feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation, so you busy yourself taking a few photos for your Instagram -- you’re not too shy to admit that this neighborhood is lovely. Old brick buildings and shops with lots of flowers blooming.

(And if you sneak a photo that has the back of Bucky and Steve standing there, shoulder to shoulder… well that’s nobody’s business)

In hindsight, you and Steve should have seen this night coming. The memories prove to be too much for Bucky, and the entire floor nearly shakes over your head when he has an episode in the middle of the night, spurred by nightmares and twisted memories of his family.

Footsteps speed by your doorway and you hear FRIDAY asking you to stay in your room, but you don’t listen. You’re too worried, despite the racing of your heart telling you that this is a bad idea.

You open the door just in time to see Steve sprinting down the hall towards the stairs. He must hear your door (or your heart, you think idly), because he turns to you. An authoritative, “No,” is all you get from him before he’s gone, apparently taking the stairs four at a time.

Not content to be left on the sidelines, you head downstairs to the lab, pausing just long enough to throw your hair into a bun and slip your glasses on, grabbing a sweatshirt off a hook by your door. You have no idea if you’ll be seeing Bucky tonight, but you want to be prepared just in case, even though you think Bruce and Dr. Cho are going to take the lead on his care while he’s here.

Forty-five minutes go by before you hear footsteps, and Steve and Bucky come trudging in. Steve has a black eye, and Bucky seems content to stare at his own feet.

“Steve--” You’re about to ask him to let you look at the bruising, but he holds up a hand to stop you. You’re suddenly filled with dread, wondering if Bucky is wholly himself, but you find it hard to believe Steve would have brought him down here at all if he wasn’t.

“I’m fine.” He smiles at you weakly, “Can you…” He trails off, looking at his best friend.

“I need something to help me sleep.” Bucky finishes, voice rough. “Preferably without dreams.”

You pause, “I can’t guarantee anything,” you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, “But I can try.”

“Thanks.” Steve sounds exhausted, but Bucky looks worse.

“Can I have a minute alone?” You ask Bucky, but the question is really for Steve. Bucky tenses, and you rush to clarify, “Just want to chat about how we can help you get better sleep. Figured you might be more comfortable without an audience, but Steve can stay if you want him to.”

The two men have a silent conversation before Steve nods, reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze before he leaves you and Bucky alone.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky relaxes enough to talk. You busy yourself taking his vitals even though you know you could just ask FRIDAY to give you the rundown. It gives you something manual to do, so you don’t have to just stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

You look up in surprise. “Me? No, I-- you--”

“I know it-- I woke you up.”

You shake your head. “I was awake anyway.”

Bucky cocks his head in question, so you keep talking.

“I have a hard time sleeping. Did Steve tell you much about me? What I did-- before?”

“He said you’re a nurse.”

You nod. “I was a trauma nurse at a hospital nearby. That’s how Steve and I met.” You hesitate before the next part, but you feel like he’ll handle it okay. “I was working the day SHIELD fell. When he was brought in, I was in the ER.”

Bucky meets your eyes, and you can see the guilt swimming there.

You smile, “Turns out a nurse isn’t super necessary for a super soldier.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I suppose not.”

“My job mostly turned into babysitting. He kept trying to leave before he was fully healed, and we really had no idea how long he was going to be there. None of the rules applied to him, and he was way more focused on getting out to look for you.”

Bucky looks down, gunmetal hand whirring slightly as he fiddles with it. “Sounds like Steve.”

“Anyway, after I managed to put up with Steve and Sam for a whole two weeks,” you wink at Bucky, “Steve offered me a job. Thought they could use a medic around. I’d been wanting to get out of the hospital anyway. Some days were… hard.” You try your best not to let the memories get the better of you. “Turns out Bruce is a great doctor but not when he’s-- the other guy.”

Bucky nods, seemingly finding his resolve. He takes a deep breath, “I thought I could handle today. I felt good when we were there. Like I could almost forget--” he waves his hand around vaguely. “You know.”

You nod slowly. “In my experience, recovery isn’t always a straight line.”

Bucky is quiet, but you take that as a signal to keep going.

“I definitely still have days where I can’t see the lights of an ambulance without my heart rate speeding up. I have nightmares, and sometimes when the team is gone on a mission, I’m so anxious thinking about what’s happening to them I can barely breathe.” You force yourself to keep talking, “And then there’s some days where I’m calm. I can handle it, and I feel fine.”

You look up at him so you can look directly into his eyes. He’s already looking at you, and for a second, you feel a zip of awareness hit you in your gut.

“I’ve got something for you. It’ll help you sleep, but it’s really strong.” Quieter, you add, “Don’t tell Steve, but Bruce and Tony developed this for him years ago. He won’t ever admit to having nights like you’ve had. This seemed to help him.” You reach over on the table for a pill bottle and press it into Bucky’s palm. “Read the directions. Don’t take more than one.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. “Thank you.”

After a brief awkward moment, he leaves the room, and you can hear his quiet footsteps down the hall until the ding of the elevator signals him going back upstairs.

A few moments later, Steve is in your line of vision, and he doesn’t say anything, just gives you this look and it completely breaks your heart.

Wordlessly, you hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers, and he takes it willingly, threading your fingers together. Pulling him close, you stand shoulder to shoulder with the super soldier, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you both pull your thoughts together.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” he says, voice low. “I just didn’t-- I hate seeing him in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I know, Steve.” You don’t have any answers, so you don’t try to give him one. “You need to try to rest.” You tell him instead.

“So do you,” he replies stubbornly.

“One day at a time, Steve.” You remind him.

“Yeah.” He sighs, wiping his free hand over his face. “Yeah, I know.”

When you get to your bedroom that night, you’re exhausted. It’s quiet above you, and you keep replaying the night’s events over and over.

Out of everything, one moment stands out to you - that potent moment of eye contact with Bucky Barnes. You can still feel the electricity crackling through you as you remember it.

That can’t be good.

“Any time, Cap,” Tony’s voice, out of breath, comes through the comms. You’re watching anxiously from your lab in the Tower, wondering again how you got roped into this.

“I’m busy,” Steve replies haughtily, and you hear the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. “On my way.”

The sound of fighting rings out, and you try to subtly eye the man next to you, his posture similar to yours - arms crossed, brow furrowed.

“Do they always argue this much on a mission?” Bucky wonders aloud, and you snort.

“I’ve only been involved in a few, but in my experience: yes.”

The mission is otherwise pretty smooth - Steve and Tony are more than capable of handling a few rogue Hydra thugs on their own, and you’re relieved when Tony lets you know over the comms that they’re headed back, objective complete.

You glance at Bucky next to you, who still stares at the screens.

“This must be a little overwhelming…” you start, not really sure how much you should press.

He shrugs. “Just different. The last time I planned any type of mission I was in olive drab and all I ever had to do was say yes, sir.”

You’re still surprised with how candid he’s being, willingly offering up details about his past, those he can remember, at least.

“Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers have docked.” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts your musing, and you nod at Bucky, who leaves the room to go meet them. He brushes past you, and you feel another zip of awareness when he does, shaking your head to get rid of the feeling.

He’s your patient. You absolutely cannot, will not allow yourself to feel anything other than a clinical attraction to the man. He deserves better than that, and you can’t afford to be distracted, not when he needs your help and is depending on you to get better.

Just earlier that day, you sat down with Steve and Tony for a quick briefing to better plan for the days ahead in terms of Bucky’s recovery and his place with the team.

Steve is tense, rightly so, and Tony is firm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark as he looks at the files in front of the three of you.

“You’re saying there’s no way to know if the trigger words are actually deactivated.” Tony asks, though it’s not really phrased as a question.

“I’m saying there might be other triggers. Not just the words, though Shuri insists those are moot. He’s got PTSD, Tony.”

“Yeah, well. Join the club.” Tony mutters, looking out the window. You can’t imagine how difficult this is for him. You know as well as everyone else does that Barnes was responsible for the Starks’ deaths. You’re surprised Tony okayed Bucky’s arrival here at all, though he does have a heart. He knows Bucky was brainwashed, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Steve doesn’t say anything. You get the idea he’s worried to say the wrong thing -- he admitted to you once that he’s obviously biased where Bucky’s concerned. He doesn’t know how to be Bucky’s ally and Tony’s friend at the same time.

“All this is, is a plan for if the worst happens.” You hold up your hand quickly, stopping Steve before he responds, “I’m not saying we’ll ever have to use this, but we have evacuation plans for everything else, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be prepared for him to relapse. Even if the Soldier is out of his head, there’s still a chance his memories will get the best of him and he’ll have an episode.” You say the last part quietly, meeting Steve’s concerned gaze.

“We don’t even know if he’s going to want to have anything to do with the Avengers,” he acknowledges. “After all this time… for all I know he wants to lay low.”

Tony nods. “If he does… we won’t have him on any field missions until we’re sure he can handle it. Until then he stays here, helps Hill with the comms and he can…” Tony gestures wildly, “I don’t know, be strategic backup or something.”

That option had proved to be more than okay with Bucky, though he acknowledged he didn’t really have any say in the matter. He just wanted to be useful.

In the weeks that follow, he fills in for Maria Hill when she’s called away for other Stark Industries work, and takes to running the team like he was born to do it.

“It’s the squad leader in me,” he tells you one day, a grin on his face. “Though the lot of you are a lot easier to deal with than Army brats.”

He even helps Steve train some new recruits when the opportunity presents itself. Overall, his recovery is on track to be even shorter than you expected. Sure, there are still moments where he loses himself in a memory or has to be shaken awake in the middle of the night when things get to be too much. But you know every single other person in the Tower struggles that way too.

You’re mostly enjoying getting to know James Barnes the person, and not The Winter Soldier, the enigma, even if it is getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach every time he enters a room you’re in.

You’re killing time in the lab when Tony saunters in, startling you with his Iron Man gear half-on.

“What are you doing?”

“Need a hand,” he says, drawing out the word as he waves at you, thruster firmly in place on his left hand.

“Terrible.” You mutter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just miscalculated the power of the new thruster and sort of… fused it to my hand.” He says the last part quickly, and you blink at him.

“I’m sorry. I heard that wrong.”

He grins cheerily. “Nothing wrong with your ears! Now--” He claps his hands together with a metallic clang, “-- You got anything for burns?”

Bucky wanders in sometime after you’ve finally gotten Tony to sit down. He watches warily, stopping before entering the room completely, a little curious. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he says quietly, “but what the fuck is going on?”

Even Tony smiles at that, Bucky’s blunt tone a sure sign he’s had a decent day, as far as moods go. “Experimentation gone wrong,” he says brightly. “Doc’ll get me sorted.”

You glare at him. “I’m not a surgeon. Stop giving me surgeons’ work to do.”

You’re gently trying to pull the round piece of metal from Tony’s palm without completely frying his nerves. Coincidentally, the entire thing is destroying your own nerves in the process.

“Need a hand?” Bucky asks, pulling up a stool.

Tony snorts. “That’s what I said.”

You’re very aware of the heat emanating from Bucky’s side as he watches you work. Normally you wouldn’t let someone this close while you’re essentially performing surgery, but you think idly that it might be a good idea to have a third party here in case Tony starts complaining that you’re trying to butcher him.

“What I need--” you say through grit teeth, “-- is for both of you to shut up and let me work.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky says with a smile.

Tony raises his eyebrows in delight at the exchange, but you ignore him.

“Hold still,” you murmur after a few minutes, and when you glance up, relieved that there’s quiet finally, you see a few beads of sweat on Tony’s brow. He’s frowning at his own hand, and you think he’s finally starting to grasp how serious this could have been. “Honestly--” You huff, “Now you’re getting squeamish?”

“I didn’t think about the part where you’d actually have to yank it off,” Tony says defensively.

“I’ve got as much of the metal out as I can, so hopefully I can just…” you mime ripping it off with your free hand.

His eyes widen. “No you will not.”

Bucky sits back, arms folded across his chest with an amused grin at the billionaire.

“There’s nothing for it, Tony. Like a bandaid.”

“Can’t be worse than when I had to give myself stitches in the middle of the woods in Belgium with some dental floss,” Bucky says off-handedly, and both you and Tony stare at him, mouths agape.

“This is the twenty-first century!” Tony protests, gritting his teeth, “This isn’t the fucking Battle of the Bulge, Grandpa!”

“And, three.” You say with finality, lifting the remnants of the Iron glove off Tony’s palm, having used his outrage at Bucky’s bad attempt at bedside manner as a distraction to do the hard part. “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” You say primly as he hands you a piece of gauze that had been waiting nearby.

“Devious.” Tony remarks as you wrap his palm. “What’s the damage?”

“You need to keep it clean or it’ll get infected. No more experimenting.”

You let Tony go with the promise - or threat - to tell Pepper about this, and then it’s just you and Bucky there as you clean up.

“Does that happen often?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, “More often than I’d like. He thinks he’s invincible.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth tilt up. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

You’re momentarily fascinated by how much younger he looks when he smiles, but you force yourself to look away and go back to cleaning up the tray you had supplies on. “Did you need anything?” You ask, remembering how he wandered in on his own nearly an hour ago.

He flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Just some company.” He admits.

It sends a thrill through you.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who has no idea who I am. Or who I’m supposed to be.” He says, the last part barely a whisper.

You feel so much for him at this moment. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and still, the man manages to crack jokes whenever he can, and is, on the outside, not completely overwhelmed with being in a new place, finally in his own head.

“I think I’ll head back to bed.” He says, a small smile on his face. “This was… interesting.” He grins. On his way past you to the door, he reaches out briefly and squeezes your free hand. You think he might not even realize he’s done it.

You almost drop the tools in your hand when you realize what’s happened -- the mark on your arm, the one you try so diligently to cover up, is burning.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur to yourself.

You avoid Bucky for weeks after that. You see him in a strictly professional capacity, and you feel like the biggest bitch on the planet for it, but you have no idea what to do with yourself.

After he left you in the lab that night, you inspected your well-hidden mark, trying to figure out why it was suddenly coming to life after years. It was a dull pink color, like you’d been rubbing at it, and even though you refused to accept it, you knew deep down what that meant.

You have no one to ask about it. No one at all.

Soul marks are rare, and they’re rarer still among the bunch you live with. Steve doesn’t have a mark, nor does Sam. You don’t feel like putting up with the shit you’ll get from Tony or Pepper if you try to ask them about theirs.

You’ve read enough about the bond to recognize it for what it is, but your brain is still stuck on one fact - Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a mark. Not that you’ve seen, and not that he’s mentioned.

It occurs to you then that the worst case could be true - you could be his, but he might not be yours. What a nightmare. As if he doesn’t have enough to deal with after quite literally coming back to life. Throwing an unreciprocated soulmate into the mix? No. You won’t do it.

So you avoid him.

You even go out of your way to liaison with the new SHIELD for two weeks, as part of a new partnership Steve and Tony were reluctantly part of with the recently-still-alive Phil Coulson.

“Are you sure you want to go? They have a doctor.” Steve asks as he carries your duffel to the dock as you await the arrival of SHIELD’s quinjet.

“They have a scientist,” you remind him. “They wouldn’t have asked for help if they really didn’t need it.”

Steve scowls, still a little perturbed that a man he considered a friend couldn’t even let them know he was alive, let alone that he was resurrecting SHIELD.

“We need to know what they’re working on, anyway.” You say. “Plus, it’s good networking.”

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Still. What if--” He stops himself, looking away as you reach the hangar. “What if we need you?”

“Then you’ll call, and I’ll have them fly me back.”

You hear what he’s really asking - what if Bucky needs you? You considered it. But you think you need the distance more than being around and avoiding him. He hasn’t needed you in any urgent way in weeks, anyway.

“Fine. But make sure Coulson knows he’s still on my shit list.”

“Steve Rogers!” You gasp. “He’ll be broken-hearted to hear that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you’re interrupted by incoming engines, and watch as the quinjet flies smoothly into the hangar.

You’re surprised at how young the team is. Not much younger than you, sure, but still. They’re watching Steve with something like awe in their eyes.

“Captain Rogers.” Coulson says, descending the ramp and holding out his hand tentatively. “It’s good to see you.” He’s sincere, that much is obvious.

“Coulson.” Steve’s tone is curt, but he shakes the man’s hand anyway.

After an awkward pause, Steve turns to you, introducing you.

“This is Agent May, Fitz, Simmons, and Daisy.” Coulson says, and you smile at each member in turn. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You grin at him. It seems impossible to be anything less than genial with Phil Coulson, though Steve is doing his best to prove otherwise, and Tony hasn’t even bothered to leave his office to greet the new arrivals.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece.” Phil tells Steve.

“The alternative isn’t an option.” Steve replies, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough. Bye, Steve. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

His expression softens, and you know he’s just being protective in that big-brotherly way of his.

As you’re boarding the jet, you see movement out of the corner of your eye, and see Bucky back in the shadows, leaning against the wall as he watches you leave. You bite your lip in frustration, knowing that leaving after ignoring him is a cowardly move. Still, it’s the only option you can think of while you try to sort this out.

After taking off, Phil turns to you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he.” There’s something like despair in his voice.

You sigh. “They thought you were dead.”

“Technically I was.”

He fills you in on the whole story as you fly to their base, and when you land, you take the first minute you can to get Jemma Simmons alone.

“I was hoping you could tell me more about soul marks. I know you’ve done some research--”

She smiles at you, putting you at ease. “What questions do you have?”

Bucky watches the jet take off, a hollow feeling in his chest. He can’t figure out what he did to drive you away so thoroughly.

Steve stands there with his arms crossed for a few minutes before turning back, shaking his head.

“You trust them?” Bucky asks, and Steve pauses.

“I do.” He sighs, then looks at his friend. “Are you worried?”

Bucky scoffs. “Am I worried that she ignored me for two weeks and then fucked off with a bunch of people I don’t know?”

Steve’s grin is slow, lazy. “Careful, Buck. Sounding awfully protective.”

Bucky scowls. “Shut up.”

One thing that has absolutely not changed since the 40s is Steve’s propensity to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, and lately that’s been evident in the way he’s been trying to needle out what exactly Bucky is feeling for the good doctor.

He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

She’s-- smart. She’s smart and she’s funny, and she’s beautiful, but it’s not like he would ever act on it. She’s his doctor. Probably the closest thing to a best friend Steve has. Bucky’s not going to fuck that up just because he’s noticed that she smells like vanilla and when the sun hits her face just right-- well. He’s not going to fuck it up.

Besides, he clearly made her uncomfortable when he told her it was nice to be around her. That she understood him, in some way that Steve didn’t. That clearly freaked her out.

He would laugh if it wasn’t happening to him. Scared a woman away so thoroughly that she literally got on a jet and took off.

He sighs and follows Steve back to the common area where a few of the others are lingering. They want a report on SHIELD, no doubt.

Bucky is going to do some digging of his own. SHIELD, for obvious reasons, has left the taste of ash in his mouth, and he’ll never forgive himself if it turns out that they’re some kind of HYDRA cell using a familiar face to get close to the Avengers again.

Not to mention his favorite doctor would be caught in the middle of it, and he can’t have that.

He feels… he feels good. It’s unfamiliar. But really, minor episodes and nightmares aside, he feels more like himself than he has in decades. There were brief moments when he was lucid enough in Hydra to remember who he was and where he was, but he thinks being brainwashed was… not a blessing, he’s not stupid enough to consider it that, but the alternative… having to be himself while he did those things… it would have killed him.

Now, he finally has choices.

His first choice was deciding to accept Steve’s help and friendship, and his second choice was to trust you.

He thinks that should mean something.

He thinks back to a moment from a few weeks back, shortly after the Brooklyn trip. You didn’t treat him like he was broken, and he appreciated it more than he could say. So much so that he invited you back to Brooklyn with him, to one of his favorite diners from when he was growing up.

He’s so happy to see it still exists that he can’t wait to have a meal there. Steve is busy, and you just-- the way you smile at him when he asks you to go, he knows he’s made the right call.

“James Barnes?” The older woman at the counter looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“That’s me,” he says, trying to smile. He has no idea how people are going to react to him wherever he goes.

“I’ll be damned,” she whispers. “My grandmother… she used to tell me stories about you and Captain Rogers.”

He smiles. “Good ones, I hope?”

“Only good ones. My grandmother was Ruth Kelley.”

The name fires some synapse in Bucky’s brain that hasn’t been used in years. Suddenly he’s nineteen, sharing a malt with Ruthie at the counter while she was on her lunch break, trying to pretend he’s not pulling out all the stops to make her laugh.

“You look just like her,” he stutters, and she does - the same eyes, the same kind smile.

“Thank you.” She whispers. “Anything you want, on the house today.”

Bucky tries to protest, but you stop him.

“Let her do this for you,” you say quietly.

Bucky nods and the two of you sit in a booth, his mind still working overtime trying to believe that all the pieces of his life could come full circle like this.

“An old flame?” You ask, lifting a mug of coffee to your lips, and Bucky finds himself entranced by the playful look on your face.

“Something like that.” He murmurs. “She grew up in the same building as Steve and I. Used to come bother her while she worked. That family was the best. They’d give us free slices of pie every so often…” He trails off. “Never saw her again before I shipped out.”

You’re quiet, a look on your face he can’t identify. “You must have meant a lot to her. If she told her granddaughter about you.”

He turns to watch Ruth’s granddaughter busy herself behind the counter, her movements so similar to Ruth’s that for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry too.

On the way back to the Tower, you loop your arm through his, so casually, the touch coming so easy for you, it throws Bucky for a loop. It’s not unwelcome - you’re warm through your jacket, and Bucky hasn’t realized how much he missed human contact until this moment.

He thinks it should be concerning, how quickly you’re inserting yourself in his life. He tells himself it’s purely professional, but he knows it’s a lie.

The annoyingly knowing looks he’s been getting from Steve and Sam seem to suggest that too, not to mention the not-so-subtle threatening from Tony.

He’s drawn to you, and it scares him a little, while at the same time it feels like it’s just… right. He tried to surreptitiously get a look at your left arm the first time he thought… but to no avail. He hadn’t seen a mark. Certainly not one like he remembers, not one that he hoped to see, as fleeting as the thought had been at the time. But he told himself it didn’t matter. His own parents weren’t soulmates, but they loved each other.

Peggy and Steve didn’t have marks either, but they loved each other til the end. It doesn’t matter. Although, truth be told, it won’t matter at all if you stop talking to him completely.

Trying to get his mind off you, he seeks out his friends, finding them in the common area. No sooner has he made himself comfortable on the couch next to Sam then there’s an alarm blaring somewhere, and all his senses fire to life.

Steve is on his feet immediately, as is Tony, tapping away at his tablet as he tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Steve?” Sam asks, body rigid.

“Suit up,” Steve says immediately. “Tony and I will do threat assessment.”

“Already done,” Tony chirps. “Fun - intruders!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s already moving, striding towards the doors to the command center and sliding a headset on his head - he feels more at home here than he thought he would.

“Check in when you’ve got comms,” he says distractedly, tapping away at the screen in front of him until he pulls up a couple cameras of the lower floors.

He spares a thought to be grateful that you’re not here right now, as he watches a team of men in black bust through the doors to the lab. “Lower two floors. I count eight, maybe ten operatives.”

“On it,” Steve says in his ear, and Bucky watches as his friend skips the elevator and instead launches himself down over the railing.

“Idiot.” He mutters.

“I can hear you.”

He smirks. “Tony, there’s a few more on the outside trying to get in,” he confirms, hearing the now-familiar sound of thrusters as Tony takes off from the launchpad outside the penthouse.

“More company incoming,” Tony replies, and Bucky can hear the sound of an engine through the comms.

Gunfire suddenly erupts almost directly outside the room Bucky’s in, the reinforced glass holding, but Bucky still throws his metal arm above his head and ducks out of instinct.

He knows this is Hydra. This was bound to happen, with Bucky living here. The Asset would never be allowed to live with everything he knows.

Bucky grimaces. “I’m going to need to get to the armory.”

Sam’s voice is next, “Negative, big guy. You’re going to stay right where you are, or else no one else has eyes on us.”

“Seconded.” Steve says firmly.

“I’m kind of a sitting duck up here.” Bucky protests. “This is seventy years of sniper training going to waste,” he adds, and Steve audibly sighs in his ear.

“Take an MG, that’s it.” He says, and Bucky snorts.

“You think I’d try to grab an alien gun? I’m not as stupid as you remember.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he heads out the door, eyes scanning this way and that for any potential threats. He hears the fight going on a few floors below, but so far he’s in the clear, and he heads towards the hangar where he can slip in a back entrance to the armory (hopefully) undetected.

“Two headed to you, Buck.” Steve says, sounding out of breath.

“Copy that.” Bucky says, steeling himself for the inevitable fight. He lets himself feel exhausted for approximately one second before he gets to work - his training taking over like he’s on autopilot.

He makes it to the armory door before he’s jumped from behind, though he heard them coming. He knows he can’t let them get inside. He uses their momentum to propel himself forward, flinging one man off his back and sending him careening into the opposite wall.

His other hand rears back out of instinct, delivering a sickening blow to the second man’s face.

Warily, he watches the first man struggle to his feet, a sneer on his face. “Longing.” He says, and Bucky sees red, though not for the reason he suspects the man hopes. “Rusted.”

Bucky pulls back with his metal arm, and delivers one solid punch. “Eat shit.”

Steve comes skidding around the corner a moment or two later, watching the scene in front of him. He clearly heard what the man was trying to do over comms - his face is a mixture of terror and concern.

“Bucky?”

“It’s still me, Steve.”

“Just checking.” He steps over the two men on the floor. “Didn’t need the MG after all?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Bucky reaches down, straightening the man’s jacket so he can see the insignia for himself. He sighs. “Not going for stealth these days.”

“They’re done fighting in the shadows, or whatever.” Steve replies with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll get them all to lockup - Tony’s got the rest on the roof.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is going to keep happening. As long as I’m here. You know that, right?”

Steve’s face hardens. “Then we’ll keep fighting them. They’re not going to take you again.” The fierceness in his voice makes Bucky want to weep. This is the Steve he remembers.

He helps get the Hydra agents rounded up with the rest of the team, and then retreats to his bedroom. He feels exhausted, even though he didn’t have to do much - even the fight itself wasn’t as awful as it could have been.

He’s just tired of being hunted. He just wants to-- he doesn’t know, really. Be free? It sounds so trite. But he’s got a chance at a better life now, and he’s not going to let anyone take that away from him. Not Hydra, not whoever they decide to send after him next.

That night he has another nightmare, but this time, it’s about you. The look on your face after you see him in action - it sends you even further away from him, and Bucky knows he’ll never get you back, not after this. Not after you’ve seen the Soldier.

When he startles awake, the shame burning in his chest is a living, breathing thing.

He realizes then what you mean to him, or what you could if given the chance.

It doesn’t scare him as much as it should.

Jemma Simmons is infinitely patient as she explains the research about soul marks to you. It helps that she has a soulmate of her own, one who has a reciprocating mark.

It doesn’t do a thing to quell your guilt about Bucky, though. You still feel like you’d be trapping him into something. He’s never had much of a choice about anything in his life before, and you don’t want to take this away from him, too.

Trying to distract yourself, you throw yourself into research and analysis with Fitz and Simmons. In the few days you’ve been with SHIELD, you’ve helped them learn more about Daisy’s power and biology, your experience working with Avengers helpful as they try to catalog what she can do and what her limits are.

You plan to head back to Avengers Tower by the end of the week, and head to bed that night feeling like the time away from everything was just what you needed, even if you do have two letters to Steve from Phil in your bag that you’re almost certainly not going to give him.

The man is desperate for his apology to be accepted by his hero.

You’re asleep nearly the minute your head hits the pillow.

Annoyingly, you dream of Bucky. It’s not the dream you’ve had before - holding hands at the diner, or making some grand declaration. This is… darker. More real. It scares you.

Someone is hauling Bucky out of the Tower, and Bucky is nearly incapacitated. Drugged or… worse. You feel a shudder run through you as you watch him smuggled out in the dead of night, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help.

You wake with a gasp, and when you pull up your left sleeve, the mark on your arm is an angry red.

Panic slides through you like ice in your veins, and you’re reaching for your phone before you can begin to make sense of anything.

“Hey. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I need you to check on Bucky.” You tell Steve, your tone urgent.

“What?”

“Just do it, Steve.”

“What’s going on?”

“Steve.”

You hear movement on his end, and listen intently as he leaves his apartment and heads across the hall. “It’s been quiet all night,” he assures you. “We had a run-in today, but other than that…” He trails off, and that’s what sets your heart pounding. “FRIDAY, what time did Bucky leave his apartment?” Steve asks the AI, and you feel your heart plummet.

You don’t hear her reply.

“Steve, listen to me. I think he’s been taken.”

“How the hell did you--”

“I can’t explain it. I need you to come get me. I don’t want to worry anyone here, but I can help.”

“I’ll be wheels up in ten.”

A click, and then the line goes dead.

It feels like hours before you hear a knock on the door in the base, and Phil Coulson is there, looking as worried as you are, though you’re sure he’s picking up on the anxiety coming from Steve, and from having an Avenger in his secret base.

“Steve!”

“He’s gone.” Steve says rapidly, “We had a… brief infiltration today--”

“A what?!”

“Don’t worry about it now. Point is - I think they were a distraction. They needed to figure out how to get in and how to get to Bucky.”

“I can find him.” You grab your bag, trying to push past him and Coulson both to get to the door.

“Wait a minute, slow down, how did you even know he was gone? I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have time for this right now, Steve. Who knows what they’ve done to him or are planning to do.”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is sharp, drawing you back into focus. “I need you to slow down. Explain this to me like I’m an idiot.”

You glare, but force your breathing to slow. “Something’s wrong. I just-- I can feel it, Steve.”

“How?”

“I think I’m-- his,” you choke out. “I-- he doesn’t have a mark, I know that, but I have one. I’ve had one my whole life, and I’ve never felt--”

Steve exhales hard. “Jesus Christ.” Hands on his hips, he looks back at you. “So… you can sense him? Is that it?”

You nod. “Sort of. I noticed it when we first met. An awareness, really. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought I was being overprotective while he was recovering.”

Steve’s expression clears. “The night he had an episode after we went to Brooklyn. You knew something was wrong before I heard him.”

“Steve, I-- I don’t want him to know. We just need to find him. Everything else… it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that I can help you find him, and we can help him.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is sure, full of conviction. “Okay. We get him back, and we worry about the rest later.”

“Where are the others?” You ask as you, Steve, and Phil walk as quickly as possible towards the quinjet.

“Tony’s on standby. No point in bringing the full team until we know what we’re up against. I don’t even know where to start looking.” He exhales hard. “What do they even want with him? Without the triggers, there’s no point--”

“Hydra’s been trying to pop up all over the world,” Coulson says. “They’ve taken over several old SHIELD bases, some that we didn’t even know about. They could be trying to use the Asset to bring out whoever’s still in hiding.”

“But he’s not the Soldier anymore.” You say, fierce.

“They don’t know that.” Coulson points out.

At this point, other members of his team have gathered, and you try to keep it together before you have to explain yourself in front of everyone. You’d rather suss this out with Steve, first.

“We’re ready to help if you need it, Captain.” Coulson says, shoulders straight.

Steve watches him carefully, hands on his hips. “We don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Any chance Sergeant Barnes would try to send a signal?” Daisy asks, her voice quiet as she interrupts. “If you know what to look for, we could try to hack into any outgoing Hydra communication channels we know about.”

Steve’s expression clears. “Yeah, he might. If he’s not--”

“He’s not compromised, Steve. I can feel it.” You tell him quietly. Steve stares at you, trying to decide if he can trust this. You don’t blame him - you have no idea if this is going to work either.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Steve says finally.

“You got it, boss.” Daisy says, with a lazy salute, and you watch, amused as her gaze snaps to Coulson. “No offense, Director.”

“None taken. I’m outranked.” He says agreeably.

You sigh in relief at finally having some help. You can’t let anything happen to Bucky. For Steve’s sake, and for your own.

Bucky opens his eyes slowly - his eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. Immediately he’s on edge. He has a hazy vision of someone breaking down his door, a cloth in his face and him trying to fight them off before he passed out.

Shit, he thinks, Steve’s going to be so pissed. He takes a minute to assess the situation. A dingy, dark room. He’s shackled. Not the most original way he’s ever been held against his will, but whatever.

He spares a thought for you. Do you even know he’s gone? You’re with SHIELD. Steve’s probably trying like hell to keep this from you, so he doesn’t worry you. Bucky feels himself getting angrier the longer he thinks about it - he finally thinks he might be able to work up the nerve to ask you out, or to at least tell you he thinks you’re-- well, it doesn’t matter.

None of it will matter unless he gets out of here.

He feels a little woozy. He wonders what they used to knock him out, because he knows it would take nearly five times a normal amount of anything that would render a normal person unconscious. It makes him a little nervous, but again, it mostly pisses him off.

He tests his left arm - and can’t move. A brief flash of panic runs through him, but he grits his teeth and tells himself to calm down. There’s something in the room - an EMP maybe? Something that’s taken his arm out of commission.

He tests the shackles, and his right arm pulls free.

“Huh.” Suspicious.

The door opens, and in comes one of the two men who greeted him near the armory at the Tower.

“Oh, hello.” Bucky greets.

“Soldat.” The other man says, and Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“What was it I told you earlier? Oh, right. Eat shit.”

“So the rumors are true? The trigger words no longer work. That’s alright, there are other ways to make you comply.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m done taking orders. So you’re wasting your time.”

Bucky does, under it all, wonder what the play is here. He’s basically not held down any more, and they had to know the restraints wouldn’t hold him. So what’s the point? He doesn’t know enough about the Avengers to be a threat to their security, and he’s ninety percent sure that the brainwashing won’t work.

He’s banking on it.

In the back of his mind, there’s a buzzing that lets him know he’s still not completely with it. He also has a gut feeling that Steve is already assembling, or whatever it is he calls it when the Avengers get a mission, so he just has to stall enough to catch this goon off guard and get the hell out of here.

“Well, go on then. Tell me about your nefarious plans.”

That earns him a punch on the jaw, and while it doesn’t hurt really, it pisses him off.

“Alright. I’m tired of this. Tell me what you want, or I’m going to leave, and if I have to kill you to do it, well, that’s just too bad.”

His smile is just a touch too wild to be sane, Bucky thinks, right before he presses something in his right hand. Not an EMP, then, Bucky has a second to think before it feels as if his entire brain is being electrocuted, and then he blacks out.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Tony asks Steve the second he lands in the hangar at SHIELD HQ. “Hello,” he says distractedly to the small crowd that’s gathered.

“Bucky’s in trouble.”

“Barnes has been in trouble his entire life.”

“Tony.” You growl, a warning if he’s ever heard one. “We have to help him.”

Tony sighs. “This place is pretty cool, if a little low tech,” he says finally, looking around, his gaze landing on Phil Coulson. “Phil. You’re not dead.”

“Neither are you. Heard it was pretty close for the both of us.”

Tony turns back to you and Steve. “Why am I here but Wilson isn’t?”

“Sam’s already doing recon.” Steve says, his expression hard. “I need you to help with the hacking.”

“Hey!” Daisy protests, not looking up from her laptop. “I don’t need help--”

“I know you,” Tony says. “You hacked SHIELD. They called me about that. I think you owe me an apology.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... anyway. We were able to narrow it down to these two previously unknown SHIELD bases. They’ve been silent for months, but recently had a string of outgoing communications, one of which can be tracked to a location in New York not far from the Tower.”

“He’s around the fucking block and I flew all the way here?”

Steve glares at Tony. “That doesn’t mean it’s where they’ve taken him. Just that they’re operating there.”

“They’ve probably had eyes on him ever since he came back to New York,” you say quietly.

“Christ.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “Alright, get Wilson over there and see what he can shake out. Doc, do you have a plan if Barnes is… compromised?”

You’re quiet. Steve’s quiet. No one really knows what to do if that’s the case. You’re not sure if it’s even possible, not after all the work Shuri did with Bucky’s recovery in Wakanda, but there’s still the possibility… no. You won’t let yourself think about it.

“We could use the containment module.” Agent May says quietly, one of the first things she’s said since you’ve been with SHIELD. “It’s meant to hold the strongest inhumans.”

Tony gets out of the suit eventually and you all start pouring over audio files from the last few days to try to find Bucky.

Eventually, Steve turns to you. “He’s alright?” He asks, softly, worriedly.

You sigh, but at the pained look on his face, you have no other choice. You concentrate as hard as you can, feeling your connection with Bucky like a tether. You’d know if he was gone. Even if it was just his mind.

“I think so.”

Tony gapes. “Does someone want to fill me in, here?”

“They have a connection.” Steve says, flat.

You watch as Tony connects the dots. “Oh, sweet Christ. That explains a lot.”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the monitor in front of him, muttering. “Making heart eyes at each other across my lab--”

“It could be that only she has the mark. But it shouldn’t diminish the bond,” Simmons says quietly across the table, her eyes not leaving the papers in front of her.

“You told SHIELD before you told me?” Tony asks, incredulous. “I’m wounded.”

“Are they always like this?” Fitz asks Coulson, not so quietly. You can relate - there’s something about seeing that your heroes are just regular people.

“Got him.” Daisy says suddenly, voice hard. “There.” She points at the map.

“Let’s go,” Coulson directs, “we’re wheels up in five.”

“You’re staying here.” Steve tells you, and you immediately stop in your tracks.

“I’m going with you. Are you--”

“This is a rescue mission.”

“And I’m a doctor!” And I’m his soulmate, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Argue later, on the jet now!” May says sharply, throwing a bulletproof vest in your direction. You catch it before you get knocked over with the weight, and slip it on as quick as you can.

On the jet, you watch as Steve Rogers slowly disappears and Captain America takes over, giving orders and preparing for the possibility that the person they’re going to find might no longer be his best friend.

“You’re going to stay on board while we clear the place, got it?”

You scowl, but don’t argue with him, knowing it won’t do you any good. He goes around handing out comms, and everyone checks that they’re working, giving him a thumbs up. Daisy Johnson looks absolutely delighted to be on a mission with Captain America and Iron Man.

It seems like it’s only minutes before you land. Sam is waiting for you when you get there, and squeezes your shoulder as he passes you to confer quietly with Steve and Tony.

“Alright, we’re going to split up into teams.”

While Steve is talking, you’re barely listening, too focused on trying to concentrate on your newly-discovered bond with Bucky to figure out if he’s alright.

“Don’t get any ideas, Doc.” Tony says to you on his way out the door, tapping the comms device in his ears for emphasis as he goes.

You sigh - you hate being sidelined, even if you know Steve is right - you can’t provide the kind of help that they might need.

“Be careful,” you tell the three of them, plus the SHIELD team.

They go down the ramp quickly, leaving you alone with Simmons and Fitz.

Bucky hasn’t really been thankful for his advanced hearing in the short time he’s been fully in control of his faculties, but even in the short time he’s been back with Steve, he’d recognize the sound of a quinjet landing anywhere.

He feels like he’s been knocked over the head with a hammer. His energy has been totally zapped, and he knows he needs to fight, needs to figure out how to get the hell out of here, he just can’t summon the will to get up.

There’s a commotion in the hallway near the room he’s being kept, and when the door finally bursts open, his face falls when he sees Tony Stark.

“Did you disable the power?” Bucky asks immediately, not giving Tony a chance to make what he’s sure was meant to be a dramatic entrance.

“What? No. Why are you on the ground?” Tony asks, irritated, taking a few steps towards Bucky before a now-familiar buzzing fills his ears. Bucky watches, un-amused, as the lights flicker, and Tony freezes, his suit shorting out.

It’s not the same bone-crackling energy that had rendered him virtually useless earlier, but Bucky still grits his teeth at the feeling of it ripping up whatever sensors are left in his metal arm.

“Oh, god dammit.” Tony curses. “Steve is here. He’ll figure it out.”

“They’ve got a device like an EMP. Shorts out everything electrical.” He winces, “Makes me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

“That’ll mean Wilson down for the count too,” Tony mutters.

Overhead, the lights flicker once more and then they go out entirely. The walls seem to shake with the force of an explosion, and Bucky and Tony barely have a chance to exchange worried glances before they’re plunged into darkness.

Inside the quinjet, it feels like an earthquake.

Jemma doesn’t look up. “That’ll be Daisy,” she says casually.

Fitz is frowning. “That didn’t feel like a quake.” He stands, heading over to one of the monitors where he tries to get in touch with the rest of the team. “Daisy? Coulson?”

You try too, pressing your finger against the comms device in your ear. “Steve?”

You get no response, not from him, and not from anyone else. You start to feel dread prickling up your spine, and you surge to your feet, not able to just sit there anymore.

“I have to go help them.”

Simmons looks up at you, “You don’t have any way to defend yourself! If they’re not responding--”

“What, we’re going to just leave them in there?”

Fitz looks like he’s weighing his options. He moves quickly, digging into his backpack. He pulls out his sidearm, thrusting it at you. “You know how to use this?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He shoulders his backpack, and you tuck the gun into your waistband.

“Fitz!” Simmons protests. “The Captain said to stay here—“

“Tell him it was my idea,” you say. “He can lecture me after we save his life.” You take off down the ramp before either of them can say anything else, but you’re relieved when you hear their footsteps following.

Inside, you’re immediately on edge at the lack of guards. You’ve got your borrowed gun at the ready, Fitz and Simmons silently behind you. “First floor is clear,” you whisper. On a whim, you press your finger to your ears again, just on an off chance. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Daisy!” Simmons exclaims before racing towards a figure slumped against a far wall. “Daisy? Can you hear me?”

Daisy groans, opening her eyes slowly. “Shit. Simmons?”

“What happened? We thought it was you--”

“It was me, but then there was this-- I don’t know. It felt like it was scrambling my brain. Took the power out. I tried to quake a few of the guards, but it knocked me out.”

“It only knocked out the powered people?”

“It shorted out my gloves,” Daisy says, getting to her feet. “It’s like it reversed the energy I was exerting and put it back at me.”

You blanche. “Steve and Bucky.”

Fitz echoes your worry. “Falcon and Iron Man have powered suits. Might have had the same effect on them, too.”

All you can think of is what Bucky might have felt - his arm literally is fused to his nerves - and you’re suddenly angrier than you’ve ever been. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths. You have no idea if Bucky’s realized your connection yet, but even if he hasn’t he’s got to be feeling some residual panic. You force yourself to calm down.

“There.” Fitz says suddenly, pointing towards the one room in the building with a light on. You can hear voices inside. “It’s Coulson.”

You walk up to the room slowly, gun drawn, the three SHIELD agents at your back. Peering around the corner, you can hear what almost sounds like a casual conversation between Coulson and some Hydra lunatic.

“-- what exactly is the grand plan? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s four Avengers here.”

The man scoffs. “A lot of good they are, aren’t they!” He laughs, “Captain Rogers here doesn’t look like he’s much up for anything right now.”

You take a deep breath when you see Steve slumped against the doorway. Slowly, you reach down, checking his pulse. Still alive, you reassure yourself.

“So you’ve got a device that can take out inhumans and the enhanced. What comes next?”

“Don’t forget it disables any man-made technology that aids the enhanced. Gives us a much more level playing field.”

“This is boring,” Coulson says, dry. “There’s no grand plan? You kidnapped Bucky Barnes to… what? To get Steve Rogers here? To get SHIELD here? You had to know someone would come.”

“The more Avengers we can take out at once, the better. And once we build this machine to its full potential, we can take out entire countries' worth of inhumans and the enhanced.”

You’ve heard enough. “New plan.” You say firmly, stepping around the corner, gun raised. Your eyes narrow. “Where’s Sergeant Barnes?”

The man looks unruffled. “I assume he’s in the cell where we left him, considering he’s only got one fully functioning arm.”

You glance over your shoulder at Fitz and Simmons. “Figure out a way to power that down.” Daisy stays out of sight, but you appreciate knowing you’ve got at least one superhero at your back. Gun still pointed at the Hydra agent, they hurry around him, analyzing the panels and buttons in front of them.

“I wondered if you’d come too,” the man says. He holds out a hand. “Alex Harrison. We haven’t met yet. Well, not officially.” He smirks, “Seen you around though, with the Asset.”

“He has a name.” You growl.

“Two minutes,” Fitz says, and you’re aware of Coulson reaching for his waistband, too. Behind you, Steve starts to rouse, and you fight off the panic at him immediately springing into action.

“Even if you destroy this machine, the plans won’t be stopped.”

“You talk too much,” Coulson says, lunging forward and hitting Harrison hard with the butt of his gun, sending him collapsing to the ground.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Had to find out about their evil plan.”

“What-- what are you doing here?” Steve asks groggily.

“Hate to break this up, but we need to find the others.” Daisy says. She looks at you, “Can you tell where he is?”

You concentrate on the bond.

“I’ve got him.”

Bucky thinks if he could avoid spending any extended period of time with Tony Stark again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“All I’m saying is… have you noticed her?”

He’s been needling Bucky about you for the last half hour, and Bucky’s about had it. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get the hell out of here?”

Tony glares. “Well, considering I can’t move…”

The door to the cell suddenly bursts open, and both Bucky and Tony flinch.

“Took you long enough!” Tony crows at the unfamiliar woman, holding her hand up not unlike Bucky’s seen Tony do.

“Bucky!”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice. You’re there, in front of him, real and alive, hair escaping your ponytail in tendrils, clad in a bulletproof vest and a pair of jeans that he thinks he’ll be dreaming about for days to come.

Also, a gun.

He’s never pondered the attractiveness of firearms until now.

“This seems backwards,” Bucky says. “I should be the one attempting a daring rescue for you.”

“He’s not good at being grateful,” Tony mutters.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the woman says, interrupting. “I’m Daisy. I’m with SHIELD. It’s an honor to meet you.” She grabs his good arm, hoisting him to his feet.

“Brought the calvary, then?” Bucky asks you, over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daisy snorts. “Actually, yes, but don’t let Agent May hear you say that.”

“We have to go quickly.” You say, moving to Bucky’s side. “Are you hurt anywhere else? What did they--” your voice is getting increasingly panicked, and Bucky stops you.

“I’m okay.” He says softly. “Let’s go.”

Getting both himself and Tony oriented is a struggle as they fight off the effects of the EMP, but out in the corridor, he finds the rest of the team including Wilson and Steve congregating. He fights not to notice the way you stay close to his side, close enough to touch.

“How did you find me?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve glances at you. “It’s a long story.”

Outside, on the quinjet, you busy yourself checking everyone for injuries and any signs of trauma from the Hydra device. You’re in your element, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off you.

He realizes how close he came to being done for. If not for the quickness of the team - however they found him - and for the fact that the trigger words don’t work anymore, he would have been lights out without ever telling you that he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

They land quickly, promising the SHIELD agents a chance to rest up at Stark Tower before they head back to their base.

You head to the infirmary with Bucky, whose arm is still shorted out.

“Let’s see if we can’t get you back up and running, okay, Sergeant?” Your smile is gentle.

“Yes ma’am.”

He watches you work, watches the way your forehead creases as you concentrate and the way you have tiny flecks of light in your eyes.

He wonders if you’ve got someone. You’ve never mentioned it, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining all these little moments the two of you have had together. There’s the matter of the mark. He hasn’t seen if you have one. He’s put off thinking about his own - or the lack thereof - for… decades.

He decides he doesn’t care. Not when you’re smiling at him like that, and indulging his bad jokes, and making him feel like he’s a normal person, not someone to be afraid of.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He blurts.

You look startled. “Uh-- no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to go out?” He takes a minute to relish in the surprised look on your face. “With me?”

A myriad of emotions flash across your face. One he doesn’t expect to see is sadness. It makes a lead weight settle in his stomach.

“Bucky…”

He’s afraid of what you’re going to say. He finds himself rushing to reassure you. “It’s not-- it doesn’t have to be anything serious. I just-- I want to spend time with you. Just us.”

You’re so still. It doesn’t track with anything he knows about you - the way you’re always moving, always taking care of everyone else.

“You want to go out with me?” You manage. “Like, a date?”

He smiles. “Yeah, like a date.”

“You want to go out on a date with me?” You ask him again, and he laughs, unable to believe that he has to explain why he thinks you’re so extraordinary.

“I’ve felt a connection with you since the minute we met. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. And the way you burst in there to rescue me, all guns and glory…” a wry smile twists his mouth. “How was I supposed to not want you?”

“Oh, Bucky.” You say, watery through your tears. But you’re smiling now, which is a far sight better than when he thought you were horrified by the prospect of being with him romantically.

He continues, feeling a burst of confidence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so I’m sorry if I’m out of practice. I just-- I feel like I know you. I need you to know that even if-- if we’re not soulmates, even if you don’t believe in that shit, I still want you. I don’t see that changing any time soon.” Bucky’s voice is filled with conviction, and he watches as tears pool in your eyes and start to spill over. “Oh, honey, no.” He reaches for you, but stops halfway. “Don’t cry. I’ll-- what do you need? If you need me to fuck off and never be seen again, I know a guy who can make that happen,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

A choked sob leaves your mouth, but now you’re smiling, so Bucky takes it as a good sign, though he’s still terrified you’re going to turn tail and leave him standing here. “What is it? Why are you-- please don’t cry.”

You don’t say anything, but it happens almost in slow motion. You lift up your left arm and slowly push up the sleeve, and start to take off your watch. Underneath, in faded black ink, is a vine of ivy, trailing around your delicate wrist, small leaves dotting your veins.

His entire world stops. He’s speechless. He has absolutely no idea what to say. His brain is just screaming, you belong to her, you belong to her over and over again.

“I knew I was yours, but I thought that you didn’t belong to me.” You’re saying. “I-- I didn’t want to trap you, I--.”

“Why would you think that?” His voice cracks.

You look confused. “You don’t have a mark, Buck, I’m your doctor, I saw your arm--”

“My left arm.” His voice is hoarse.

“What?”

“My mark was on my left arm. It showed up in 1934, before the war, before… everything.”

The air whooshes from the room.

“What did it look like?” You ask timidly.

He smiles, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell me?” He takes your hand, slowly, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you.

“If this is a joke--”

“I would never joke about this.” He says, hoarse. “I got my mark when I was seventeen years old, and all I thought about for years was finding my match.” Feeling braver, he reaches forward, cupping your face in his palm. “They took that from me,” he says. “Kind of fitting the one to rescue me from Hydra was also the one to bring my mark back to me, right?”

You laugh, a little choked through your tears, and he leans down, tracing the pattern he knows so well with his fingertips on his good hand. “There’s a pale pink flower,” he whispers, looking you dead in the eyes. “Right about here.” His thumb presses lightly at the crook of your elbow, where you know a flower sits.

“It’s how I found you.” You tell him, and the pieces start to click into place. “I dreamed about you, but I think it was more of a vision.”

“You were the one to realize I’d been taken?” He asks, feeling his heart squeeze. “Jesus.”

“Called Steve in the middle of the night. Demanded he listen to me and he came to get me from SHIELD.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “In a good way,” he adds. Then, quieter, “I’ve dreamed of you too.” He whispers.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes. “What do we do now?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Don’t know. I haven’t done this before.” HIs eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh… you-- shut up.”

He grins - he has a feeling riling you up is going to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Let me get your arm up and running, and then we’ll talk.” You eye him carefully. “I might have to get Tony for the hardwiring.”

Bucky lets his head drop back as he groans. “Anyone but him.”

You cackle delightedly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He brightens at the use of the endearment. He feels - it’s a dream. Seventy years of waiting, and somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew you were different the minute he met you.

He knows you have a lot to talk about - a lot to decide, a lot to work through. He feels almost invincible, though, especially after thinking for so long that he would never find his match if he didn’t have his mark anymore. He still can’t fathom how he got so lucky for it to be you.

You feel like you’re walking on clouds for the rest of the day. After some good-natured ribbing from the team, and from SHIELD - you promised to stay in touch with them, if only to convince Steve and Tony to come around and start working with them again; you quite like Phil Coulson - they mostly leave you and Bucky alone.

You hole up in his apartment for nearly the entire day, talking about everything you can think of. Your childhood, his childhood, even the rough parts that make his voice catch and harden… you sit right there and hold his hand through it.

You can almost feel your bond like a living, breathing thing now. It’s electric when the two of you touch, something that you’d always noticed but tried not to put any weight on.

Now, it seems so obvious.

He kisses you goodnight. It sends a flare of heat through you and nearly makes you dizzy, and you want him to do it again as soon as it ends.

He reminds you that you’ve got a lifetime to sort out what this all means.

A lifetime with Bucky Barnes sounds like a dream.

You can’t wait.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #this is the longest bucky fic i've ever written???#maybe even the longest fic i've ever posted to this blog #WHEW

253 notes · View notes

the196thbattalion · 5 years ago

Text

star wars human! high school! au

i’ve seen so many headcanons circling throughout the star wars tumblr about high school au’s, so i wanted to share my bit with all of you :D

anakin skywalker

five words: REBEL CHILD ON A MOTORCYCLE.

he doesn’t like riding the school bus because it makes him feel extremely claustrophobic, so he scrapped and scavenged up parts to make his own customized motorcycle, which he lovingly dubbed artoo.

the blue and silver detailing was the joint effort of ahsoka and obi-wan, because anakin doesn’t know how to paint.

if he can catch up to the bus, he’ll ride alongside it and flip off the students on it before revving on ahead of them. (the freshmen think it’s the funniest thing in the universe)

probably one of the most well-known juniors in the entirety of temple high school (mostly because of his shenanigans but partly because he’s dating padme fuckiNG AMIDALA, PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE DAMN SCHOOL)

he always wears this worn-down leather jacket his mom gave to him before she passed away, and refuses to take it off, even though it’s somehow “a violation of the dress code and should be outlawed.”

his hair alone has seduced eight different students (boys and girls)

sometimes during study hall, ahsoka or padme will get a hold of his hair and style it into little braids or make a super rad ponytail.

he really likes iced coffee with milk and sugar. he puts in the milk to make it nice and light (it’s aesthetically pleasing, obi-wan!), and then like eight tablespoons of sugar to make it actually taste good.

his favorite class is mechanics, taught by kit fisto.

anakin spent months on a mechanical arm project to replace his clunky plastic prosthetic, and he was so freaking happy when it was finished; he almost cried. (he did cry and ahsoka got it on video)

obi-wan kenobi

a mixture of the soft™, pretty™, hippie™, grunge™, vsco™ and nerd™ tropes.

he really likes peppermint tea with lots of honey but takes his coffee black.

he has had too much tea.

someone needs to stop him.

almost all of his classes are ap courses, and if cody hadn’t been watching when obi-wan was making his schedule, all of them would be.

him, cody and padme have ap english with mace windu, and cody knows how much his classes stress him out, so he lets obi-wan sleep during class and sends him the notes

the only ap class obi-wan doesn’t take is mechanics, and he shares that class with anakin.

anakin and obi-wan are super close with each other. kenobi was there when ahsoka was adopted, and anakin was there when kenobi got his cat. (they were like 5 okay)

“NAME IT C3PO OBI-WAN, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK-” “what kind of name is that, and why would i - anAKIN PUT HIM DOWN!?”.

mr. fisto constantly has to split them up for disrupting the class, but it’s almost like they can communicate telepathically, and the teachers have a running bet

mace windu literally bet $50 on these fucking nerds so you know it’s for realsies

in reality, they’ve just gotten super creative with passing notes.

kind of off topic, but he has these brown harry potter glasses that he uses (kinda for reading???? but mostly so he can do that anime pushing up glasses thing)

cody thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

whenever cody is feeling stressed, obi-wan just does the thing™ and BOOM! happiness.

people think he’s a goodie two shoes, and honestly, it’s really easy to think that. if the iconics are trying to do something stupid, he’s usually the voice of reason.

but parties?

…

you know what, just ask anakin for the video footage.

ahsoka tano

this hs!au ahsoka tano turned me bisexual confirmed ✔

okay before i go into her style, which is mainly what made me drool over my computer, can i just put skatergirl!ahsoka out there?

spray painting of the rebellion symbol all over the bottom of her board and on items in a couple of the places where she skates the most (like the back of an abandoned car yard)

her instagram is filled with these super cool vhs-tape recorded skate videos (u know)

lots crackhead 3am visits (starring anakin, rex, kenobi and barris) to a gas station to get slushies and grind the shit out of the curb connecting the store to the parking lot

trying to teach anakin how to skateboard but he just can’t figure it out? uh yes

“try to balance skyguy!” “HOW DO I MOVE? DO I SCOOT? SNIPS THIS ISN’T FUNNY AND I WANT TO GET OFF – GUYS, STOP LAUGHING!”

okay okay okay i’m done

for now

anyway, her style???? is so???? fucking????? cool!!!!!

her genetics gave her a 80% of having vitiligo, so it really wasn’t a surprise when patches of her skin got lighter, but it still freaked her out a little bit.

basically, went like this: “DAD, I’M TURNING WHITE!” “???? oh my gosh ‘soka, no.”

she has long braided dreadlocks she dyed a super bright orange with various colored beads woven into them with the help of anakin and padme. she usually styles them into little space buns atop her head.

her entire clothing wardrobe consists of fishnets, neon bomber jackets, at least 11 bisexual beanies™, handmade patchy jeans, white tank tops, and light-up platform shoes.

she doesn’t give two flying fucks about the dress code, and – IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST BUSY HALLWAY - punched principal sidious over whether or not she “could wear shorts that short” (anakin may or may not have cheered when she broke his nose).

the fetts (chuck have mercy)

*cracks le knuckles* i’ve put it off long enough

we have: fox (24), wolffe (19), cody (17), rex (17), echo (16), fives (16), boil (15), waxer (14), hardcase (13), jesse (12), longshot (8), kix (6), tup (3), gree (2) and boba (9mo)

wolffe is off at college - fox already graduated and moved out, that cheeky little fucking shit - but both still keep in good contact with the fam, and it’s a constant clamor between eleven of the siblings of who gets to talk to them first

fox majored in government/politics, bly is majoring in space/astronomy, and wolffe is majoring in police/law enforcement shit (i don’t know how college works, so sue me)

cody and rex are juniors, and despite their similar looks, the amount of schoolwork each of them completes drastically varies

cody is the honor roll student, valedictorian, whatever you want to call it

rex kinda just either does the work really well or 9/10 times gets distracted by anakin or ahsoka sending him some nice spicy memes

cody tried to tutor rex but it ended up almost landing tup in the hospital

“that’s really simple, actually. if you – vod? rex, are you okay? what are you oH NO TUP DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH-”

fetts on the varsity football team is like a right of passage in the family

right now, only the juniors of the fett family are on the team, but the coach has eyes on fives and echo for next years team

SPEAKING OF

echo, fives and boil are the infamous sophomore trio that pulled the milk bucket prank on the gym teacher, pong krell.

they had to help the janitor (99) clean up afterwards, but they genuinely enjoyed 99’s company, because he’s rad as shit and knows all the secret school passageways.

to be honest, not one person (except maybe sidious) was complaining

that motherfucker makes everyone run like eight laps during gym class

even mr. windu gives them a small smile in the hallways after that

boil says he was blackmailed into it

waxer is a freshman (the poor dude, i’m so sorry), and he always looks out for the nervous freshies

if someone is having a bad day, he’ll give them a lollipop (he carries around a whole bag), a place to sit during lunch, and a shoulder to cry on

all you need to do to find waxer is to locate this long ass line of children

the school counselor, plo koon, sometimes brings his niece numa into school during the day because he can’t find a babysitter, and waxer. fucking. loves. her. PERIOD.

w+n pull these tiny little pranks on teachers, and the staff pretends not to notice, but numa always giggles and gives them away.

boil has a soft spot for numa too, and sneaks her rice krispies.

bonus shit i want to add in but can’t figure out where to put it (or i’m just gonna add it on and shit)

plo koon adopted anakin after his mother died (him and anakin’s mother were good friends), and found ahsoka on the side of the street, shivering like a maniac.

he doesn’t know where ahsoka came from, but he loves her so gOD DAMN MUCH.

he’s the school counselor, and still keeps in touch with a lot of students even after the graduated (he thinks that majoring in law enforcement/police is a bit dangerous for wolffe but he still supports his unofficial but basically son 100%)

yoda is the super old but radically rad english teacher.

his entire point of existence in my mind fic is to troll the shit out of palpatine.

a recent conversation starring yoda and palps: “did you give the students the mountain of extra work i assigned them?” “for the students, that was?” i’m sorry. my bad, that is.” “this is the seventh time, yoda.”

okay but for real

mace windu violently roots for the school football team.

“BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, CODY! YOU TOO...OTHER CODY!”

“THAT’S A HOLDING! THAT’S A HOLDING!”

“REF IF YOU DON’T COUNT THAT TOUCHDOWN THEN I SWEAR TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT YOUR SORRY PINSTRIPED ASS!”

806 notes · View notes

apparitionism · 4 years ago

Text

Why

I want to wish a very happy Gift Exchange Day to @mysensitiveside ! This gift, a short and sweet AU, will keep on giving for a while, in that I wasn’t able to fling the whole thing across the finish line for you today. (No surprise, I’m sure, given my posting pace over the past... um... some time.) A second part will appear sooner rather than later, however, and I hope that the whole thing will be to your liking. Thanks of course go to @kla1991 for the organization of the whole @bering-and-wells-exchange extravaganza... and I do just want to say that, as for my own reasons (reasons as such being quite relevant to this story), I still love Myka and Helena, and everybody in this bar, very much.

Why

“Why are you here?” Myka Bering asked of the dog she discovered in the hallway, gazing up at her, when she opened the door of her apartment one Saturday morning.

The dog blinked.

“Aren’t you Sam’s dog?”

The dog blinked again.

Things happen for a reason.

Myka had always been sure of that. So much so that it had shaped her idea of heaven: surely, the experience of paradise was nothing more, less, or other than finally being in possession of all the reasons.

When she was small, her “WHY?” refrain hadn’t distinguished her from her peers, but while most other children eventually gave up the incessant repetitions of that question, she never did. She discovered early on, however, that knowing whom to ask made an enormous difference in the quality of the answers she received: her mother’s exasperated “Because” was endlessly frustrating, as was her father’s equally unsatisfying “It’s magic.”

Which was why she became a research chemist, her choice of career happening for just that reason: it was always going to be a science of some sort, for the “why” questions—which she tended to ask internally now—had answers, if she put enough effort into finding them.

So it struck her as strange, that morning, to find herself asking “why” of a neighbor’s dog, out loud. The quality of any answer she got wasn’t likely to be high.

She had never seen the dog this dirty before. He... was it a he? maybe? she thought she’d heard “boy” at some point... had always seemed a little disheveled, his coat fluffed but lopsided, like he always slept on it wrong and nobody bothered with a comb. But never like this. Never with actual dirt.

She picked up the dog—he weighed less than she expected; she hadn’t realized how much of him was fur—and with some trepidation went to knock on Sam’s door.

No answer.

Myka took the dog back to her apartment. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. He blinked.

She had no idea what dogs ate, other than dog food, and she had no dog food.

She discovered that dogs ate several slices of cheese, a ham sandwich, a peanut butter sandwich, and a corn tortilla. Then dogs took a nap, no doubt exhausted from all the eating.

After numerous fruitless attempts at Sam’s door throughout the day, Myka called Mr. Nielsen, the super. “Sam moved out,” she was told. “Couple weeks ago. No forwarding address.”

“But I have his dog.”

“That’s nice of you,” Mr. Nielsen said.

“You don’t understand. I didn’t intend to have his dog.”

“Then maybe it isn’t nice. It’s not my problem either way.” He hung up.

Myka hadn’t liked Sam. He had asked her out, and she had said no, because he made her nervous. Anyone asking her out made her nervous, but this felt... different. She sensed she’d been right to turn him down, for he got visibly offended, in a way that made her even more nervous, such that she avoided him as much as possible afterward. He didn’t seem like a good person. But to move away and leave his dog behind?

She considered taking the dog to the animal shelter. What was she going to do with a dog? “What am I going to do with a dog?” she asked the dog in question. He blinked.

“I guess it’s you and me, dog,” she said after that Saturday turned into a weekend, the weekend into a week, one week into two.

And he looked at her as if to ask not “why?” but “what took you so long?”

She bought a leash. A bed. Actual dog food. So many products. “I’ve never shopped this much for myself,” she told him. She couldn’t decipher his blink in response to that information. Was it “But of course you should buy more for me” or “You should buy more for yourself”?

As it happened, he was a responsibility in ways she had not expected to enjoy. She had to leave work at midday, every day, to go home and walk him. She had that thing to do, and she did it. Her lab neighbor Abigail teased her about the dog being just an excuse to escape the lab, an excuse who probably didn’t even exist. “He’s real,” Myka protested. “I even had to come up with a name for him.”

Abigail laughed. “Sure you did.”

“Leukotriene.”

Pause. “Okay, now I’m convinced. Mostly. But I still want photo evidence.”

It hadn’t occurred to Myka to take a picture of the newly named Leukotriene, but she did so that night. She included a ruler in the photo for scale, lest Abigail mistake him for a Pomeranian, which was the breed—as far as Myka could tell, given her limited dog knowledge—he most resembled. The next day, “That’s him,” she said.

“Your dog.”

“I guess so.”

“He’s really... pretty.”

At home that night, she told him, “Abigail thinks you’re pretty.” He did the blink. “Yes,” she affirmed, “I do too.”

She shortened his name to “Leuko.” He didn’t seem to hate it. Then again, he wasn’t very vocal, positively or negatively.

She took him on walks, increasingly long ones, on the winding trails of the city’s largest park. She had never been a walker, but Leuko was... well, no: he was a trotter. A delighted, peppy trotter. Myka tried to match his bright energy, but she didn’t ever feel the same shine. It made her unaccountably happy, though, to see him that happy.

When she bathed him, he suffered it (no bright energy there), but she had a sense that he knew how impressive he looked when he was clean. His fluffy tan coat expanded into even greater glossy magnificence, an invitation to sink fingers in, and it rewarded the venture.

The best part, though, was when she would sit on the sofa, reading a journal or, less frequently, a novel, and he would lie against her, sighing as she rested her hand against his soft, warm body.

It was easy to forget that Sam had ever existed. Easy to sink into the belief that she and Leuko had always been a team. That this new texture of her life—this sneaky, responsibility-laden velvet—was a reality that had simply been held in abeyance until the right time. And now was that time.

One Saturday, as they walked in a nearly empty park, enjoying an early cold snap, Myka heard from a great distance an exclamation: “Monty!” She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but suddenly her leash hand was empty, and Leuko was tearing across an open field, toward a solitary female figure, barking, making noise like he’d finally learned, or just remembered, that he had a voice.

Myka took off after him, drawing near at the moment he leapt—yes, leapt—into the woman’s arms.

She was striking, with dark eyes that rhymed with Leuko’s... in fact, she rhymed entirely with him, with his beauty. She looked up from him to Myka, those dark eyes widening, seemingly shocked to find another person present. “This is my dog,” she said, a little halting, as if she were trying the words out. Or as if she were coaxing them back into her mouth from far away.

Myka’s breath seized. “No,” she said, forcing the word out. “He’s my dog.”

“He is not. He’s mine. You can see it.”

Myka could see it. It drove ice in her heart to see it, to see him so ecstatic to see someone else, but it was there to be seen. It was there to be heard, too: Myka would never, she was sure, forget that declarative bark.

“He was lost for so long. How did you come to have him?” the woman asked, and Myka, trying to hide that heart-ice, explained about Sam. The woman said, shortly and with pain, “So that’s what happened.” She didn’t offer anything more, and while Myka wasn’t the most sensitive of souls, she could tell that this was not the sort of thing a stranger could ask any question about, not why or wherefore or anything at all.

A stranger. She was a stranger to both of them now, this woman and her dog, a stranger in their way, on the path in front of them—on a path she never should have been on in the first place. And if there was one thing Myka knew how to do, it was get out of the way.

She tried, mightily, to tell herself that that was what she should do: just step away. Let them carry on down the path. You didn’t have a dog before, and you were fine.

Leuko—Monty—looked at her from his perch in the woman’s arms. He blinked.

In response to that, Myka found herself babbling, “Can I... I mean, would you maybe let me... walk him sometime? Because he and I. I mean, or maybe just me. I. I’ll miss... it all.”

“I’m disinclined to let him out of my sight,” the woman said, with seeming care.

Myka didn’t have to ask why. “I don’t mean alone,” she said. “Just to see him.”

The woman looked at the dog in her arms. Did he blink? Whatever he showed her, it was enough. “All right,” she said. “Next week?” At Myka’s nod, she continued, “I should introduce myself. I’m Helena Wells.”

Myka understood even that was a matter of trust. “I’m Myka Bering,” she said, “and let me give you my number so you—”

“I’d rather not,” Helena Wells said, with the same care.

Not overmuch trust. “I can bring you what I bought for him,” Myka said, and maybe it was a flail to show that Helena Wells did not need to doubt her intentions. “If you want.”

“Thank you, but I still have all his things. Always holding out hope.” She said that with a quirk of her lip that Myka envied. Hope—what was it?

But of course Helena Wells had held out hope. Even after Myka’s own short time with Leuko—Monty—she would have done the same thing. Had he suddenly been gone, had she not known why.

The next Saturday morning, Myka spent some time pondering a very strange question: what do you wear to walk your ex-dog with someone who probably wants to forget that you exist?

The relief Myka felt when Helena and Leuko—Monty—appeared... it nearly felled her. There he is, she thought, and he’s all right. Not that she had expected anything different, but it was a relief. After a week she had not understood as a ratcheting up of anxiety, she at last felt relief.

They walked, side by side, Leuko—no, Monty—leading the way, shining even more brightly than Myka had known he could. “I didn’t intend to have your dog,” Myka started. “I didn’t mean to keep him... I mean, to keep him from you. The super can testify to the timeline, and I—”

“It’s all right,” Helena said. “I see that.”

“But I’m trying to tell you why this happened.”

“It doesn’t matter why. He’s here, and I told you, it’s all right.”

“Of course it matters! You’d care if I did try to steal him.”

“But you didn’t,” Helena said, and her words were gentle. “You cared for him. You didn’t have to.”

That left Myka strangely perplexed, because now, in retrospect, what else could have happened? “Of course I did.”

And Leuko—no, Monty—looked up at her, and he did the blink, and Myka knew what it meant: “Of course you did.”

Meeting, walking. They fell into a regular Saturday-walk schedule. As the weeks progressed, Myka’s anxiety gave way to, made room for, anticipation. Leuko—Monty—never barked when he saw Myka, but he did pull on the leash as she approached and gave her a nuzzle when she knelt to greet him.

“Why did you name him Monty?” Myka asked, one Saturday.

That made Helena smile. “I didn’t. His breeder did.”

“His breeder?”

“He’s a Mittelspitz.”

“He’s... a medium? A medium spitz?” Well, that explained his looking like a Pomeranian.

“Precisely.”

Myka felt dim. “But what does that have to do with being called Monty?”

“Nothing, as far as I know. The breeder named his litter after the stars of A Place in the Sun; he’s Montgomery Clift. His sister is Shelley Winters, and his brother is Elizabeth Taylor.”

“His brother? Why?” Myka really did try to limit the asking of that question out loud, but this seemed extra-justified.

“He’s even more beautiful than Monty.”

Did Monty the Mittelspitz turn his head and harrumph at such blasphemy? Myka surely was imagining that. He must have just seen a squirrel. “Poor Shelley Winters, though,” Myka said.

Helena laughed... and Myka felt that she should name that laugh “Elizabeth Taylor” as well. Helena said, “No, no, she’s pretty too. A remarkably lovely litter, and in fact Shelley was the only one who was show quality. If beauty were all it took, Liz would have ruled the circuit.” Another harrumph. “Don’t pout, darling,” Helena said to the dog, then to Myka, “Why did you name him Leuko?”

“After a peptide,” Myka admitted. “Well, a group of peptides.”

“A peptide.”

That was an implicit “why,” and Myka was strangely comforted. “I’m a chemist,” she said.

“A chemist.” Helena furrowed her brow. “How funny that I didn’t know that. How have we not got around to professions?”

Myka wanted to say, “Because when we get close to anything about our real lives, one or both of us backs away.” They still had no contact outside the park, and even as they shared and deepened this strange long-walk familiarity, Myka did not know where the line was. Had it shifted? If not, would it ever? She tried, very cautiously, “I don’t know. Will you... will you tell me yours?”

“I teach writing.”

For some reason, Myka couldn’t hold back her next question, even though it was not justified: “Why?”

“I have knowledge and expertise to impart. Due to having studied writing. And having made a living in the past as a writer myself.”

“That’s a good reason,” Myka said, and she thought, That’s more than you’ve said about yourself in weeks of walks. Was something different about this day?

“Thank you. Though I may not need your imprimatur, I’m pleased to have it.”

Was she... teasing? “I like good reasons,” Myka tried to explain.

“Good reasons. Recognizing them is not inapplicable to the craft of writing.” Helena said this with a funny little bow of her head.

Myka’s facial capillaries flooded with blood.

She knew why, but she hid the answer in her heart, for she remembered all too well Helena’s desolate “So that’s what happened.”

On one of their earlier walks, they had run into Abigail. “How’s little Leukotriene?” she asked. “Or I guess he’s not so little. That’s weird; I thought he was a Pom.”

Myka resisted the impulse to remind her of the ruler in the photo.

The next day, “Who’s your girlfriend?” Abigail asked.

It was the first time Myka really registered that she had continued her habit of going home in the middle of the day. To no purpose at all, she went home, stood in her kitchen, ate a sandwich that no one else wanted any of, and then went back to the lab. It was not a responsibility anymore, and it did nothing for her. She resolved to stop.

“Not my girlfriend,” Myka said, but she was appalled at herself: for a rash moment, she had wanted to let Abigail believe otherwise.

“Walking your dog with her?”

“Not my dog.” On that point, of course, Myka wished she could let herself believe otherwise.

“Pretty sure the dog matched that picture you showed me.”

“He’s her dog.”

“You were trying to pass your girlfriend’s dog off as yours?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. And he was my dog... for a minute.”

Walking in the park every week was not a responsibility. It was a reward.

And as Myka enjoyed her reward, each week, she studied Helena’s face, listened to her words. She tried to tell herself she was merely continuing to assess Helena’s relationship with Leuko. No: Monty. And she was doing that... but she was doing so much more.

How much could Myka continue to hide in her heart? And for how long?

As if in answer, the Saturday following their “professions” discussion, Helena (and Leuko—no, Monty) failed to appear. Myka, desolate at the absence of them both, walked by herself. It was terrible.

The park was empty of them the following week as well. Still, Myka walked, taking the isolation as her punishment for having misunderstood lines and crossing them, for having been so foolish as to let any part of her secret heart show on her face.

The aftermath of that second lonely walk left Myka restless, anxious. Should she try to find Helena and ask her why she had so abruptly decided against... whatever they were doing? Could she then beg her to reconsider walking a dog together to no purpose? “I’ll stop wanting anything more than that,” Myka thought to tell her. “I promise.”

But of course trying to find her was out of the question; if Helena didn’t want even to walk with Myka, she surely didn’t want to be stalked by her.

So Myka did the only thing she could do: the next Saturday, she returned again to the park. And she hoped.

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Why #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #bering and wells gift exchange #bering and wells exchange #mysensitiveside

51 notes · View notes