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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Hello! Don’t know if you’re accepting prompts but just saw a clip of gerrit and amy cole playing catch- she’s pregnant and still bringing the heat! Thought of emma and killian in the CMIYC verse :) hope the muse inspires you, pretty please and thank you :)

I saw that video @galadriel26! Too cute! If anyone wants to watch it, I’ll link it | Here |

And if anyone is interested in reading this on ao3, that’s | Here |

-/-

September 2022

Emma hates him.

She really, really does, and she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about that anytime soon. He doesn’t deserve it, and she’s going to stick to that thought process for the foreseeable future.

Because that’s definitely rational, and she is a beacon for being rational at all times.

Or not.

Definitely not. But at least part of the time.

“Take the train home,” Ruby says as she hands her the largest cup of lemonade Emma has ever seen. She’s going to have to pee approximately eighteen times after she drinks it. “I’ll ride with you so you’re not alone.”

“We don’t take anything close to the same route, and I don’t care about riding alone.”

“I don’t care that we’re not on the same route.” Ruby taps her shoulder into Emma’s as Emma takes a sip of her drink. God, this is delicious. She could probably live off of lemonade right now if she didn’t think about how many calories she consumed with a cup this size. And the peeing. So much peeing. “We could get Graham to come get us. He can give us a police escort.”

“That’s excessive.”

“You look miserable. Excessive might be in order.”

Emma hums and leans back in the stadium seat, propping her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. She needs to wash her sneakers. They have seen better days, and she loves these too much to do anything but preserve them forever. She definitely should have bought more than one pair when she got these.

Killian would have killed her.

As if he doesn’t have a million shoes of his own.

She’s definitely buying at least two more pairs of these shoes when she gets home. She deserves them.

“I’m not miserable,” Emma promises before taking another sip, “but I’m tired. I have been here since eight this morning, and Killian is out on the field running around in circles.”

“That’s called jogging.”

Emma rolls her eyes and tilts her head to lean it on Ruby’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I will soon because I’m about to leave for the day. I just wanted to make sure my nephew was going to be okay.”

“Oh, so what about the woman who is wearing extremely elastic shorts to house your nephew? Because if you don’t ask about me, I swear I’m going to pop off on you.”

Ruby chuckles and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “People ignoring you and only mentioning your stomach today?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And my boobs. I had actual, real people reference my boobs and how much bigger they are because I work with a bunch of assholes who can only focus on a woman for her boobs.”

“Your boobs are absolutely gigantic, and you’re only seven months.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. If she didn’t want this lemonade so badly, she’d pour it on Ruby for that comment. “If you ever have a kid, I’m going to remind you that you think being seven months pregnant in the summer in New York is an easy thing.”

“I only meant that your boobs are going to get even bigger along with your ankles.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, gently hitting Ruby. “I should have never told you I have to wear compression socks while working.”

“That was a mistake.”

“My ankles are normal size.”

“If you say so.” Ruby nods down toward the field. “It looks like your baby daddy is winding down. You going to be okay if I leave you to him? Or are you going to murder him for making you wait here? I’ll support you in that, but there’s only so much I can legally do to get you out of that situation.”

“Nah, I like him too much to murder him.”

“I’ve heard he’s really good at sex, too.”

“Rubes, you’re ridiculous.” Emma pulls herself away from Ruby, standing from the seats and wiping away the sweat that’s pooled at the back of her thighs before grabbing the hair elastic off her wrist and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re also not lying if I have to be totally honest with you.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

Her eyes rolls, and when Ruby stands, Emma leans over to hug her. She doesn’t actually know what she would do without Ruby and her penchant for asking totally inappropriate questions.

“Go home and let me go try to drag the crazy man off the field, okay?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to win the World Series again to impress you.”

“That would be ridiculous.”

“But it’s definitely true. You might be married to the most romantic man alive.”

“I’m going to tell Graham you said that.”

“Please do. He could step up his game.”

“I’ll slip it into the next conversation, but try as much as you might, there’s not much of a chance of Graham winning the World Series. But I’ll send him a text with a very blunt hint.”

“Perfect.” Ruby places her hands on Emma’s stomach, and Emma has to bite her tongue. She only lets Killian do that because people touching her stomach is freaking weird and should not be a socially accepting just because she has a human growing inside of her. “Baby boy Jones, your mom is going to murder your dad for making her stay here all day, and she’s going to murder me for touching her stomach, so I want you to know that I am the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”

“Goodbye, Rubes,” Emma sighs. She takes another sip to keep from laughing. “I’ll let you know if we’re still here in the morning.”

“You might as well wait. You’ll just be super early for work tomorrow.”

“At this rate, we both will be.”

Ruby turns and walks away toward the exit while Emma makes her way down the stands until she’s at the gate that will let her out onto the field. The sun is nearly finished setting, the overhead lights turned on and beaming down onto the field, and the heat from the day is finally melting away so that it’s not excessively sweltering.

She cannot wait for winter. It’ll be cold and comfortable and she won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll probably be freaking out because she has no idea how to be a mother, but at least her ankles won’t be slightly swollen anymore.

Hopefully.

It’ll all be worth it. Supposedly.

No, definitely.

She’s just miserably hot today and wants to be home on the couch with Netflix on so that she can get up and do this all over again.

They’re going to the ALDS, and she’s so damn excited. They’ve been rebuilding the team for years now, getting back to the top of the game, and this is the first time in a long time that Emma’s felt it in her gut that they’ve got a chance. 2019 feels like decades ago, but it’s only been three years since their lives were insane.

Well, insane in slightly different ways.

At least there are no deadbeat dads working with ex-boyfriends to ruin their lives. She couldn’t go through that again. She needs some kind of calm to be able to get through the next few weeks and keep from getting too stressed.

Pregnancy was obviously a great idea.

“Hey, twenty-nine, they called off practice a few hours ago.”

Killian keeps jogging, but he slows his pace until he’s in a walk and heading straight toward her. He has absolutely soaked through his t-shirt and his shorts, and he is definitely going to smell horrible on the car ride home if he doesn’t shower here.

“I’m getting extra credit, love.”

“You’ve already aced the test. Let’s go.”

Killian pushes his hair off his forehead before reaching back to tug at the back of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. Emma’s stomach swirls, and she swallows the lump in her throat.

Damn, she is luckier than she has any right to be.

Maybe sitting on the couch and watching Netflix isn’t what she actually wants to do right now.

“You see something you like there, Swan?”

“I feel like you took your shirt off because you know my hormones are crazy and that I’m still a little extra horny…on occasion.”

“I took my shirt off because I’m covered in sweat. Something like what you suggested would simply be a perk.”

Emma laughs and meets Killian halfway when he kisses her. “You are incredibly sweaty.”

“If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I’ll shower here.”

“I’m expecting it.”

“Good.” His lips run across her jaw before he pulls back. “You want to do me a favor and do some pitching practice with me?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I notice you didn’t say that as a question.”

“Because it wasn’t.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, and she recognizes it. He’s about to try to charm her pants off, probably quite literally, but she’s not going to let him. She’s going to ignore him and keep on drinking her lemonade.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll cook dinner if you practice with me.”

“You’re already cooking dinner, so you’re really slacking on the convincing.”

“Damn. But to be honest, I was counting on not wearing a shirt to be all the convincing you need.”

Emma shakes her head and takes one last sip of her lemonade before putting it down on the ground. “You have to rub my feet when we get home, and you better promise that you’re not going to nail me with a ball.”

“So many dirty jokes I could make there.”

His brows waggle, and she reaches over to shove him before walking to the pile of equipment behind home plate. She finds a glove that she doesn’t hate, grabs a ball, and meets Killian on the side of the field where he’s waiting for her. They’ve done this countless times out here, in stadiums across the country, and on the rooftop of their house. Though, that last one has led to a broken window at the brownstone across the street, and that was not a pleasant conversation.

She misses one catch and disaster happens.

“I got another jersey today,” Killian tells her as she gently tosses the ball his way.

“For a newborn or for an older kid?”

“I’m thinking toddler. It was cute. They’d gotten it customized with my name and number.”

He pelts the ball back. Okay, so they’re not going super slow today.

“You get it from a fan?”

“Yep. A group of women.”

Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head as she smiles. That does not surprise her in the slightest.

“We’re going to have enough onesies and jerseys to dress this kid until he’s a teenager because of groups of women who love you.”

“What can I say? My pretty face attracts a lot of women.”

“How pretty would it be if I gave you a black eye?”

“I think I would still be at least in the top two of the most stunning men on the team.”

She hears the thwack of her ball in Killian’s glove. “You are never lacking in confidence, are you?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

All the time, she thinks.

He lacks it all the time, but he hides it until the darkness of night when it’s just the two of them. The demons have been coming out to play lately with the pressure of the season mounting, that possibility of greatness at the tip of his fingers, and with her due date getting closer as they’re all wrapped up in baseball.

The two of them wanted this more than anything, but their own parents screwed them over so badly that Emma gets the demons. She has them, too.

Not when they’re out here, though, and there’s nothing and no one in the world but the two of them.

“Did I tell you Ruth is coming to town next week?”

“Is she staying with us?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, of course, love. I’ll wash the sheets in the guest room and get some groceries delivered. She still on a pasta kick?”

“She definitely is. You should see the texts she ends me. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at that much pasta.”

“I have, but it wasn’t the good kind of pasta.”

“All pasta is good pasta.”

His ball hits her glove a little harder than she was expecting. Damn, Jones. “That, darling, is not true in the slightest. For instance, wheat pasta and then that pasta you burned.”

“That was one time,” Emma groans as she shakes out her hand while adjusting her stance. “I swear I can cook. I haven’t died of starvation yet.”

“It helps when cereal is available.”

Emma throws the ball as hard as she can at Killian, but he doesn’t even flinch when he catches it. She can throw a fantastic ball, too, so he definitely should have flinched.

Sweat is now dripping down her back, the humidity in the air seeping into her clothes and her skin, and maybe she should take her shirt off as well so she doesn’t get covered. Killian might have had the right idea there.

She is not taking her shirt off in the middle of Yankee Stadium no matter how badly she wants to. That would somehow not go well for her and someone would see, and she’d have even more shit to put up with. Emma’s definitely punching the next person to tell her that she looks like she’s going to pop any minute now.

She’s not.

But why the hell do people think that’s okay to say to a pregnant woman? She swears some people forget that pregnant women are still people all on their own.

“Twenty-nine, I love you, but if you keep making fun of me while killing my arm, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. And the bad one, not the one in the living room.”

“Does your arm really hurt?”

“I may be a little sore from working out this morning. I’m mostly miserably hot even though I thought it was getting cooler out here. Can we move somewhere that never gets this hot?”

Killian nods and starts walking toward her. He takes his glove off and once he reaches her, he pushes the hair that’s curled on her face back up into her ponytail. “We can go someplace with air-conditioning right now. I feel like that’s an okay compromise.”

“After you shower, right?”

“What? I don’t smell great right now?”

“I already told you that you smelled awful.”

Killian hums as the corners of his lips turn up, and she doesn’t have enough time to run before he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until she’s covered in sweat and the awful smell of someone who desperately needs to shower. It’s a million times worse than when he leaves his sweaty clothes in the hamper instead of putting them in the washing machine.

“Stop,” Emma groans as she pushes him away. “Killian, stop. I’m going to smell awful.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughs as she stops trying to pull back. She’s already screwed. This is disgusting. “You’re a child.”

He shrugs and smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle. “I’m in my thirties, and I play baseball for a living. I’ve never had a reason not to be.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Killian releases her from his embrace before stepping away. “C’mon, Swan. There’s no one in the clubhouse. We can go shower. I’ve got clothes for you.”

“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was say.”

“I have been trying for that this entire time.”

Emma shakes her head and chuckles. “You’ve got an early game tomorrow, and you actually have to play. Let’s go shower and then go home. I’m exhausted, and I was promised a foot rub.”

-/-

“What the hell?”

Emma shifts in bed and twists her neck to look at Killian. “What?”

The mattress dips and suddenly Emma feels Killian’s pressing into her back as his arm loops over her stomach. “Look at this.”

She looks down at his phone and at the video that’s playing. It’s the two of them from last night when they were throwing the ball back and forth.

What the hell?

“How did someone get this?”

“I don’t know. There must have been someone still in the stands that saw us and then they sent it in to SportsCenter.”

“Usually I’d be bothered by something like this, but I look like a hell of a lot better pitcher than you here. Look at that accuracy. And according to the caption, I’m a catch.”

“It also says it’s unfair to me because we’re playing two on one.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs as she leans back into Killian’s embrace. “Have you already looked at the comments?”

“Against my better judgment, I did. There were quite a few about my lack of a shirt and how they could understand how you got pregnant.”

“I feel like a hell of a lot of people have no idea how sex works then.”

Killian snickers into the back of her neck and drops his hand to her stomach. “You do have great accuracy, love.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Rob?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, Rob. He’s undoubtedly the best pitcher on the team.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep practicing with me until I get that title.”

“We’re going to be practicing for a long damn time then.”

Killian pulls her back against him and buries his nose in her neck. His scruff is prickly against her skin, but the burn of it is pleasant as his lips run across the cords in her neck before settling just below her ear.

“Are you and the kid going to gang up on me or are we going to let him like me for a little while?”

“I think we’ll let him like you until he’s five, and then he’s my partner in crime.”

“That is the most reasonable plan you’ve ever had.”

She huffs and places her hand over Killian’s on her stomach. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe. Though, I’m definitely going to be the one to teach Jace how to throw a ball. You suck.”

“Aren’t you the one who broke the Taylor’s window?”

“I said teach him how to throw. That was a catching problem on my part. We’ll have to let Scarlet teach him all about that.”

“The thought of Scarlet teaching my kid anything is terrifying.”

“Please. You trust Will with your life.”

Killian nods into her neck again and places a soft kiss there. “I trust him with you, yeah. Do you want some breakfast? We need to get ready for work soon.”

“Do we still have that fruit bowl?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll have that. Just give me five more minutes and then we can get up and get ready.”

“Five more minutes tends to mean about an hour.”

“No,” Emma sighs. “Five minutes. I mean it.”

“Fine, Swan, we can have five more minutes.”

-/-

@mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy

#galadriel26 #catch me if you can #catch me if you can prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

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gabrieloi-blog1 · 4 years

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years

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Feeling’s Mutual

Summary: When Bucky Barnes agreed to join The Avengers he didn’t know what to expect. There was kindness and support, more than he could have hoped for, and understanding. There was also misunderstanding. Dr Veronica Edwards is a hurdle Bucky can’t seem to get past. Why she doesn’t like him, he has no clue but it’s obvious to him that she really doesn’t. When routine testing on the new prosthetic arm puts him in Dr Edwards med-suite he finds himself angry at the lengths his new team will go to in order to keep him on a leash. After that, Bucky decides that maybe he doesn’t like her much either.

Word Count: 4284

Warnings: Self-loathing and a smattering of PTSD with some mild language thrown in.

A/N: This is part one of my Muscle memory series..POV Bucky Barnes, first person. Set between CA:CW and A:IW, with some of the later story mixed in. I do what I want, okaaayyyy.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

Dr Veronica Edwards’ smooth voice surprised me. She was standing in for Dr Harvey while he was off sick with a stomach virus. I wasn’t expecting to see any of the ladies here this morning, so I hadn’t bothered with anything more vigorous than a quick wash and a cursory brush of my teeth. You know how you regret not doing something just when it’s too late? Yeah, this was one of those.

Being dapper had been part of my persona, from back before Hydra, before trigger codes and before the war; a man should always make an effort when ladies are present. I supposed that was all out the window now my reputation had changed and I wasn’t James Buchannan Barnes, ladies man, any more. I was Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier.

I winced as the shadow of a memory flickered in my minds eye like a film reel running too fast, showing snippets of the film in between its skips and jumps on the projector; a murder here, a massacre there, they all flowed together in a tapestry that was as blurry as it was busy. The reel skipped off completely and I refocused on her face.

Dr Edwards smiled warmly, moist-looking nude lips curling upward gently making the peachy complexion of her cheeks seem radiant and her green eyes sparkle with kindness. I knew that was just her bed-side manner, so to speak, to be kind and considerate to all of the people she assisted, but honestly it made me feel a little uneasy. In my extensive experience, niceness was either a weakness, a grave miscalculation or a form of manipulation, and I trusted none of it. But I was trying to change that with the help of Steve and the folks here at Avengers Central.

Striding further into the room, looking thoroughly classy in my black jersey sweatpants and crumpled white t-shirt, I squared my shoulders and tried to push the uneasy feeling aside. I regretted wearing the two-day-old clothes, but the Doc didn’t seem to care how scruffy I was.

Dr Edwards was always pleasant, courteous and respectful. She was also confident and empowered, and it made me feel pretty vulnerable. She knew who she was, and what she wanted. That kind of strength was rare and it made me feel, uhhh, inadequate.

“Shirt off please.” She held eye contact for a moment longer than was comfortable. “Take a seat when you’re ready.” She gestured to the blue, leather-cushioned examination table to her right.

Hopping up, as instructed, I stripped my shirt off to reveal musculature that I was proud of (super-soldier serum aside - I’d worked hard to stay in shape), and the scarred juncture where my flesh ended and the arm began. I bunched the shirt up at my side and shook out both arms, getting ready for the exam.

Dr Edwards, had conducted my monthly exam only three times in the past. Each time she had neither been impressed nor distracted by my semi-naked glory. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why she made me uneasy. In the past, women had always thrown themselves at my feet, without my asking them, they’d been there flirting and giggling and vying for attention.

Not Veronica, she was in her own category, she didn’t even bite at the little flirtatious jibes I sometimes made towards the ladies on the team. With the exception of Nat, Wanda, and Pepper, all of the female SHIELD agents and Stark Industries staff were either terrified of or swooned after me. Well, me, Steve and Thor. It was hard to compete with the two big blonde guys but Nat said I still had it. Whatever it was.

Shame my sex drive wasn’t the same as it had been before, well, before hydra.

“How are you finding the latest modification?” Dr Edwards said, holding her hand out casually asking for permission to examine the arm.

I lifted the tech arm, laying the wrist into her palm lightly. I could feel so much more through the articulated metal casing than I could before, it almost felt like she was really touching my skin. Her hands were cool, smooth and soft, and her fingers were delicate as she deftly turned the metal hand over in hers until our palms were touching.

“It’s fine.” I said gruffly, the feel of her skin on the metal was distracting and oddly intimate.

“It’s taking you a while to get used to the enhanced tactile responses I take it?”

I’d worn a leather glove over the metal hand since Shuri had come up with this new upgrade. It was like sensory overload, overwhelming me with intense feeling that my brain could hardly cope with.

I simply nodded, for want of a better response. She was so intuitive. I’d hardly spoken with her but it was like she could see right inside me and pick out the parts that she needed to know. How could anyone defend against that? Maybe she had a telepathic power. Steve would know. I decided I’d ask him later when we both hit the gym.

“It’s ok to be overwhelmed. I can turn the sensitivity down for you today if you’d prefer, or you can continue wearing the glove and just ease yourself in slowly?”

In truth, I didn’t really like to be tinkered with. And I only went along with this monthly exam because Steve had made it mandatory in order to make everyone feel safer, and for my own good, apparently. That’s what he’d said anyway. I couldn’t argue with his reasoning really. I had a past that was impossible to escape and a reputation for murder and brutality that went with it.

“I’ll just do it myself.” I’d succeeded on my own for so long, so I should be able to overcome a few issues with feeling things.

“No problem.” Veronica said, plugging a ribbon cable into the port just inside my metal armpit. “Right then, show me your range of motion. Start with fingers, then wrist, elbow, and shoulder. I’m looking for improved flexibility in the rotator cuff from last time when we fixed the pinching at the shoulder.”

I wiggled all the parts she asked me to with no discomfort at all. The tech felt the smoothest it had ever been, almost like it was a real arm but I would always see it as foreign, never think of it as mine. It was something I wore, like shoes, necessary and functional. I knew I’d feel off-balance without it, and fighting would be difficult.

With the arm Bucky Barnes was a fully functioning member of The Avengers. Without it he was a pity case, or at least that’s how it felt.

“Step up to the testing machine, please Sergeant Barnes.” She didn’t look up from her tablet, but she stepped confidently to the control panel with the ease of someone who had memorised the space and knew exactly what was where.

I had never seen that machine before. It looked a little like a mini hydraulic crusher. Eying it suspiciously, I slid off the exam bench and approached, shirt forgotten on the table. The diagnostic cable was still plugged in under the arm and although I couldn’t feel the physical connection, I could feel the flow of power as data passed from the arm to the tablet in Dr Edwards’ hands.

“This is new.” I licked my lips, slightly nervous.

New things made me uneasy. New things were variables, variables were risks, risks were dangerous.

“It’s a custom-made tensile strength machine, made just for you.” She smiled brightly as if I should be flattered that they’d come up with a new way to scrutinize me. “Only instead of testing the strength of the metal your arm is made from, it measures the crushing ability and the strength of your arm in a way we can compare easily with other things for example the tensile strength of structural steel is around five hundred mega pascals. Human skin is around twenty mega pascals. Vibranium, well, vibranium is significantly higher at fifty giga pascals but that doesn’t reflect the force you can apply with your arm, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t. Not really, but I wasn’t about to ask her to elaborate. She was smarter than most of the techs working at Stark Industries, I’d heard the iron-skin-suit call her brilliant but until now I’d never seen her as anything more than a junior tech.

“You made it?” I asked with a frown.

“Helped design it yes.” She held my gaze almost as if she sensed my disapproval.

Trust a woman to come up with new ways to test and torture me. As if I hadn’t had enough of that my whole super-soldier life.

“What do I have to do?”

Veronica ran through the protocols and procedures, and I got the feeling she dumbed it down a little when she described it as ‘weight training for your enhanced limb’.

Slotting the arm into the device, I patiently waited for her to check and double-check the alignment and safety measures. The commands of pull and squeeze seemed simple enough to follow.

“Are you ready to start the test, Sergeant Barnes?”

I nodded with another frown. She was going to start thinking I hated her, and probably start calling me ‘him’ instead of just my military title. It wasn’t lost on me that Veronica was one of very few people who never called me by my preferred name ‘Bucky’, she was always so formal.

“Ok, and pull for me.”

I compressed the arm in a bicep curl, feeling the machine’s tension counteracting my efforts. It was like pulling an oar through water to begin with.

“And again.” She commanded. “Keep repeating until you meet maximum resistance.”

“How will I know when that is?” I curled again, feeling the weight against the arm increase.

“You and the machine will reach an impasse. You won’t be able to pull any more.”

I mumbled a nondescript acknowledgement and continue to work the arm. At first it was easy, I curled quickly but after a few minutes I found it much tougher. The machine ramped up the difficulty quickly after my initial efforts and then I was grunting, sweating, and straining against the mechanism.

“Good. Good!” She praised and I felt a little hotter in the face with either a blush or sweat, it was hard to tell right then. “Keep going, you’re doing great.”

After a few more curls the machine locked up and I couldn’t move it any further. I strained and yanked at it, grinding the mechanism until the arm was locked up too. I glanced at Veronica, panting and flustered from my exertion. She disengaged the machine and, with a hiss, the hydraulics powered down. She took notes quickly before setting up the next task.

With the arm still fixed in the device, I couldn’t move anywhere. It was like that time that Steve caught me in some factory machinery and forced me to remember who I was. I was eternally grateful to him for never giving up on me but the feeling of helplessness wasn’t something I enjoyed a replay of.

Sweating, and with regret, I wished I could reach my shirt to blot my face. I hadn’t realised the exam was going to be so physical, and goddamn if I hadn’t been clenching just about every muscle in my whole body whilst fighting against the damn thing. Even my crack felt sweaty.

“Is there anything I can get you before we start the next stage?” Her voice was soft with concern. It was unnerving how well she read me. “Do you need to rest?”

“I’m good.” I said, pride making a fool of me.

“Ok, well let me dry you off a bit. The port is still connected and should be dry when open.”

I blushed hard at that. She was telling me that I was too sweaty. Gross. I frowned, embarrassed, and shied away from her touch when she brought a wad of paper towels to my brow. It had been the very thing I had wanted but not from her.

Her hands were still quite cool but she felt colder against my heated skin. Too close, she leant over me to smooth the moisture from my body. Swiping the tissues over my face, neck, shoulders and chest, Dr Edwards watched me curiously. She had to know she was tormenting me. How could she not notice my flared nostrils and ragged breathing? This kind of physical contact wasn’t something I felt comfortable with.

Tense and scowling, I held my breath, tolerating the contact as much as I could. She continued with her ministrations until she was satisfied with the dryness of my skin. It had been too personal in contrast to the formality of her pervious interactions with me. Never more than polite yet professional conversation, zero contact outside of the examination room or combat training, limited off-duty interaction. It made me feel confused and uneasy. There was something about her that put me on edge, made me listless.

“The second part of the test is to gage the pressure you can generate with your hand.” She said, creating space between us that I welcomed. “I’ll do come calibrations after that if needed and we can have a chat about your needs.”

“My needs?”

My heart thudded once, twice, three times before I got it under control. Why did I have to talk about myself with her? Dr Harvey was unassuming and easy to ignore. I didn’t mind talking to him because… Why? Because I didn’t feel… Feel what? Because he wasn’t… Wasn’t what? Because she made me feel… Oh for Christ sakes, WHAT?

She made me feel threatened, made me feel nervous. Veronica made me feel like she didn’t really like me all that much. The coldness she gave me when she was friendly with everyone else, first names, laughing, joking, and the ease of casual contact.

“Come again?” I sought clarification.

Oh, Buck, why did you have to make it sound like that. Like what? Like that?

The way she eyed me then, I didn’t know if it was hatred or something more predatory.

“I don’t follow.”

“Some people prefer to have prostheses that do what they tell them. Unless you have a penchant for crushing instead of caressing.”

I’m sure my mouth was flapping in the non-existent breeze. Agape and floundering, I had nothing to say. Stuck in the idea that flirting and bitterness were one and the same thing to her, or maybe it was too subtle a difference for me to separate the two, I blushed crimson. Then it struck me that maybe she was goading me about my past. It was no secret that The Winter Soldier had crushed more than a few windpipes in his time.

“Fine.” I said, swallowing dryly. “I’m ready to carry on.”

“Very well.” And just like that, her stone-faced stoicism was back, with polite professionalism draped over the top. “Please let your hand relax and fall open. Good.”

A device with five finger shaped recesses arranged around a silvery ball lowered and rested in the palm the metal hand. I could feel the metal on metal contact creating a strange thrumming vibration through the arm. It felt like when I had handled Steve’s shield; a tell-tale sign that vibranium had been used to make this device.

“I’m going to ask you to hold an object, and I would like you to use your muscle memory to create the pressure with your prosthesis. The machine will respond, mimic the item and measure the results. It sounds harder than it is. Ready?”

I nodded, just wanting to get this over and done with. The sooner this was over, the sooner we could have our ‘chat’ about my needs, and the sooner I could hit the gym with Steve. The punching bag was definitely going to get ruined today.

“An apple.”

The device in the not-my hand seemed to have the same resistance against my grip as would a firm green apple. I held it, turning it in the not-my fingers.

“Good. See, you got it.”

Dr Edwards’s praise was both frustrating and pleasant. I didn’t like the feeling of wanting to please her, but at the same time it was nice to hear her soften towards me, even slightly.

“An egg.”

The machine adjusted slightly and I could feel the fragility of it against the prosthetic fingers.

“A feather.”

I pinched my thumb and forefinger, holding the imaginary feather in between.

“The hand of a loved one.”

Well, shit, if that didn’t throw me for six. The way the machine moved around my hand gave me chills. It slid between my fingers, and almost felt real for a second before I managed to distinguish the materials from real skin. I hardly touched skin with the prosthetic anymore, except my own.

“A mouse.”

The machine wriggled against my palm. I held it loosely in the cage of my fingers, just firm enough that it couldn’t escape.

“Excellent.”

The test carried on like that for several more minutes before Dr Edwards removed the mimicking device and switched to something that looked like a hand dynamometer.

“Ok Sergeant, I’m going to ask you to squeeze as hard as you can. This will create a maximum pressure output for me to work with. What I’m going to do afterwards is set some values into the prosthesis’ programming that will allow you to quickly achieve an exact pressure to accomplish a task.”

“Like what? Break a bone?” I scoffed, and before I even looked at her face I knew that was exactly what she had meant.

“Not just that. But also how not to break a bone.” She had the sense to look a little abashed.

Dr Edwards had read my file, of course she had, they all had. She knew when she agreed to run these tests that she were going to be programming instant kills into me or programming me to stop just short. My money was on the latter.

“And you couldn’t just tell me that this was what it was all about? Nerfing me so I don’t lash out and kill someone.” Irritation seethed up my spine and settled as heat in my face. “I get it, I really do. But I’m a person, not a tool. Would it kill ya to include me in decisions about, well, me?”

“James…”

“Don’t.” I shut her down. “Get the test finished. I’m done after that.”

When she said my name, my heart almost stopped. Gone was her formal, guarded façade. In its place was concern and a look of such sadness that I just didn’t know what to do with myself. How do you deal with a switch like that? And fuck me if I wasn’t simultaneously happy as a school boy on the first day of the summer holidays and irritated enough to rip that damn machine apart and storm out of the med wing. Steve was gonna get a tongue lashing from me before the day was done.

Her face was pale and remorseful as she started the machine off on its cycle. I squeezed that damn thing as if I was squeezing the life out of the sonofabitch who turned me into a killing machine, squeezed like I was crushing all of the hatred I felt for myself, squeezed like my life depended on it. Who knew, maybe one day it would.

Dr Edwards sent the data to my prosthesis and closed me up. She was silent but continued to search my face for something, hope maybe, I dunno. She wasn’t going to find anything. I was about ready to shut down and stay the fuck away from everyone and everything until I got a chance to have things out with Steve.

I got up to leave, scooping my crumpled white tee off the exam table as I went.

“Good day, Sergeant.”

I closed my eyes as her coldness returned. Stood in the doorway shirtless and feeling used, I paused, not looking back.

“Dr Edwards.” I nodded curtly, showing my face in profile only, before striding off in search of something to beat on. She didn’t need to receive my frustration, she wasn’t the only person, or even the main person, to oversee everything ‘Bucky’. Rogers and Stark, each had equal hands in this.

“We didn’t think about it that way, Buck, I’m sorry.” Steve said.

He held the Everlast bag still for me as I slogged into it.

“That’s the thing about being a weapon most of your life.” I said smacking the bag hard enough to make the stuffing start to crumble out of the seams. “Everyone sees you as inhuman, even yourself.”

“That’s not how I see you, man. You’re my best friend. I want what’s best for you.”

“And what’s best for me, Steve? Programming? A kill-switch? Cyanide implant? You’re acting just like HYDRA.”

“Whoa! No-one said kill switch or cyanide.”

I pummelled the bag until the seam split completely and the broken filling plumed out onto the floor. Stepping back, I saw Steve was genuinely upset.

“Sorry punk. I didn’t really mean that.” I held my hand out. “I’m just pissed off.”

He tagged me and smiled dryly. All was forgiven.

“I’ll get them to lay off on the hardcore controls. To be honest I didn’t even see that mandate in the requisition forms so I’ll look at that again. Just please tell me you didn’t terrorise Vee. She’s one of the best we have and she’s cool.”

“Dr Edwards?”

“Yeah Veronica. You didn’t scare her, did you?”

“Nah, I was angry but not that angry.” Had I scared her though? “I doubt she’d take much notice of anything I said anyway, she doesn’t like me…”

“Whatever, dude.” He said dismissively.

“…And she’s not the sort to rely on the opinions of others to fashion her idea of her own self-worth.”

“Wow.” Steve half laughed, blinking his shock away. “You know her well.”

“We hardly speak. She’s always so formal. With you it’s Steve this and Steve that, or Cap, yeah she calls you Cap. And you’re like ‘oh Vee you have to see this movie’ or ‘Vee can you come explain this report to me’.” I nattered like a bitchy college girl slating her BFF. “With me it’s Sergeant Barnes, or just Sergeant.”

Steve laughed. “Are you jealous, Buck? Have you found a woman who you can’t charm?”

“Haven’t tried. You know when you can tell that someone hates your guts? Besides, my charming days are over.” I waggled the metal arm.

“Some people are gonna find that hot.” A sultry voice interrupted. “Can you make it vibrate?”

Natasha flashed a flirtatiously shocked ‘oooh sir!’ face which had me busting out laughing and Steve groaning.

“Don’t worry Barnes. You’ve still got it.” She licked her finger and touched her chest, making a ‘tsssss’ sound before she mouthed the word ‘hot’ and sauntered away to the locker room.

“She really knows how to play on my insecurities.” I said deadpan, making Steve crack up.

By the time we both stopped laughing, I actually felt better. The kind of camaraderie we shared was one of the things that kept me going, through all of this. Nat was one of my closest friends and even though she loved to mess with me she also knew when not to push. That stunt she had pulled, maybe an hour earlier, might not have gone down so well. Her timing was impeccable, unlike mine.

After cleaning up and winding down I met Steve back in the kitchen where he was making a protein smoothie.

“Want one?”

I nodded, sitting at the counter. I wasn’t gonna turn down a free smoothie. Life was full of little gifts, like food you didn’t have to make yourself and, apparently, people who wouldn’t drop a damn topic.

“Seriously though, you need to get over this thing where you automatically assume people don’t like you, man. Maybe try to open up a little. Have a little fun.”

“Yeah, ok, Marilyn Hickey. Sure, a little bit of good old Christian fun sounds like just the ticket.” I slapped my thigh and winked.

“Fuck off, Buck!” He blitzed the smoothie maker, trying to drown out my retort, no doubt.

“Ooooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I said, chuckling. “I miss Nick, where is he when you need him, huh?”

“Stop deflecting.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, buddy.”

“Not what, who.” He slid the smoothie-filled glass over to me. “Talk to her.”

“Drop it, Steve. I don’t care if she doesn’t like me. I’m getting along just fine without an extra person up in my business.”

I downed the thick pinkish goop in the glass, it didn’t taste half bad but it wasn’t a steak.

“And to be honest, all this extra stuff with the arm and the testing just makes it easier for me not to like her right back.”

The noise of a door closing loudly made me jump. Steve was out of his seat and rushing out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with a grim look on his face.

“You’re an asshat.” He said picking up his glass and walking away.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together and figure out that Dr Edwards had overheard me talking about her, but did it really make a difference? So what if we both didn’t like each other.

It is what it is.

#Bucky Barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x OFC #bucky barnes recovering #muscle memory #frenemies to lovers #slow burn #mcu fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky is bae #denial of feelings #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky pov #my writing #cloudy's writing

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mariammuzaffarblog-blog · 5 years

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charlottecarterbcu · 4 years

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Iris Publishers_Journal of Textile Science & Fashion Technology (JTSFT)

An Empirical Analysis of Potential Cyclist Injuries and Cycling Outfit Comfort

Authored by YW Teyeme

Abstract

This study investigated the relationship between pain/injury and training characteristics in cyclists. In addition, ergonomic wear comfort of their garments was investigated. A total of 94 complete questionnaire responses were analyzed. The result indicated that lower back pain was the most prevalent injury causing the highest rates of functional damage and medical attention. The injury level of cyclists was affected by the cluster with elite cyclists reporting pain while cycling. Many cyclists were not very satisfied with the comfort level of their current outfit, 39% of respondents were experienced with different discomfort sensations. The most frequent causes of discomfort were thermal and moisture discomfort sensation related to fabric characteristics. Moreover, design and fit of the garment were considered as cause of discomfort next to thermal discomfort sensation. Therefore, it could be concluded that garments that have good ventilation or breathability and very good fit values were preferred by cyclists. Design, limited choice (availability), appearance/look and quality were the main reason for their brand selection preferences.

Keywords: Cycling; Injury; Pain; Training characteristics; Cycling outfit; Comfort

Introduction

Cycling has become one of the world’s most popular sports in recent years. But its increasing popularity has also resulted in a growing number of injuries. Cycling is an endurance activity often requiring long bout with a spinal forward flexion posture. Because of its prolonged repetitive nature of the activity, riding a bike becomes a challenging activity. Moreover, cyclists are known to be vulnerable to low back pain.

Cycling is an endurance sport often requiring long bouts with a prolonged spinal forward flexion posture. Because of its prolonged repetitive nature of the activity riding a bike is a challenging activity. Therefore, cyclists are known to be vulnerable to low back pain. This is generally not very severe but can be the source of great frustration to the cyclist and the medical practitioner who is consulted to solve the clinical problem [1-3]. A study with professional road cyclists to register overuse injury indicated 86% of cyclists registered had an experience with overuse injuries. From the reported injuries; 45% were in the lower back, 23% in the knee and 11% in the neck. Only 23% of these injuries led to absence from training or competition [2].

Anecdotal evidences and studies of recreational cyclists also indicate anterior knee pain and lower back pain as common problems. Literature shows that knee injuries are most likely to cause time-loss from cycling, while lower back pain leads to the highest rates of functional impairment and medical attention [4,5]. Pain in the lower back and upper buttocks area is common in competitive cyclists. The combination of the severe forward leaning posture and the intense exertion of the muscles of the upper leg and gluteal puts constant squeezing pressure on the muscles and nerves in this area. Once inflammation develops it can be extremely difficult to get rid of for cyclists who train and/or compete daily. Not only is this condition painful, but it can also negatively affect performance as the body tries to protect the painful area by decreasing muscle activation. Even those who are tough enough to “pedal through the pain” may find that they are no longer able to race as fast or as far [6,7].

Cycling is a very popular sport all over the world. In each season cyclists use a variety of clothes. While each season’s kit has different comfort requirements, hot summer (and cold winter) riding can be the most demanding. Most of the time they wear jerseys and cycling shorts, with different types of accessories [8,9]. The cycling jersey is usually worn with a tight fit in order to reduce air resistance. Jerseys are made from a material designed to wick moisture from the skin, keeping the cyclist cool and comfortable. Nevertheless, cycling sports jersey that is worn by bikers is different from other sportswear. It is well known for its prints and artistic style lines. But the style lines and prints only serve to promote the sponsors.

Cycling shorts are short & skin-tight legwear designed to improve comfort and efficiency while cycling. It can compress the legs, which can help combat muscular fatigue with greater performance. It reduces wind resistance increasing aerodynamic efficiency, protects the skin against the repetitive friction with the bicycle seat, draws sweat away from the skin to prevent chafing and cools the rider down through the process of evaporation [10].

Cycling can be performed in many different weather conditions; thus, the expectations that people have from athletic apparel has increased. Athletic apparel must prevent excessive heat loss in cold weather and enable the release of sweat from the surface of the skin in hot weather [4]. Thermal resistance, air permeability, water vapor permeability and liquid water permeability have been suggested as critical properties for the thermal comfort of the clothes [3,11].

The right clothing offers comfort, protection and performance. Different clothing is designed to suit different disciplines. Cycling sport is different from other sports. It has many features such as high energy consumption, high sweat rate and higher limb exercise and activity range than upper body. Being a high-strength outdoor sport, cyclists’ motions generate much heat during cycling. Furthermore, as cycling sport is a long duration sport, cycling clothes should be not only functional but also must be comfortable while exercising for a long period (up to several hours). According to the characteristics of the cycling sports, cycling jerseys should adapt to the body movements in order to stretch and make the human body activity easy under the condition of satisfy the premise of clothing aesthetic effect. Furthermore, it should have other features such as an efficient mechanism to handle perspiration, a high moisture absorbency, heat preservation, windproof performance, resistance to sunlight and excellent washing performance [12].

Summer jerseys use synthetic fabrics, whilst winter jerseys sometimes feature wool such as merino. Cyclists look for jersey materials that provide good breathability and wicking to draw sweat away from the skin [13]. Experienced cyclists commonly wear matching compression shorts and jerseys while riding or racing [14]. This type of clothing is designed to optimize aerodynamics and comfort. City and commuter cyclists will need clothing that offers all-weather protection and visibility; road cyclists may look for an aerodynamic fit and specialist garment [9,15].

The objective of this study was to assess whether a relationship exists between self-reported pain and cycling behavior (training volume, experience, the incidence of injuries, the prevalence of complaints, etc.) in the ability groups. Besides this, the study also aims to identify the potential injuries in cyclist and to establish the prevalence, both anatomical and discipline specific distribution, and severity of injury in elite/pro, recreational, amateur and junior cyclists.

Unlike previous studies, this paper not only identifies potential injuries but also looks into the satisfaction of the cyclists with the comfort of their current outfit. This can be used later to aid the development of a well fitted, comfortable cycling outfit that helps prevent prevalent injuries while satisfying the comfort desires of the wearer.

Methods

Participants

All level of cyclists was invited and divided in four cycling clusters; Junior: Men and women under 18 years old and cycling for competition; Elite: professional cyclists contracted by a team; Amateur: cyclists who do competition but are not professional or junior; and Others: recreational cyclists. For the purpose of this study, a total of 94 cyclists were recruited as any individual who cycled frequently.

Survey

A survey was developed and used to collect demographic information, training characteristics and comfort related information on the existing cycling outfits. Questions related to the aim of this paper were selected and are discussed in this paper.

Data collection

The online survey was distributed to cyclist club members via the Flanders cycling club’s website in Belgium and via personal email. Voluntary return of the completed survey constituted participant consent. In many cases the questionnaire provided participants with a number of possible responses and participants were asked to choose the response that described their situation best.

Statistical analysis

The responses were collected, and data was analyzed using Statistical Package for the Social Sciences (SPSS) statistics software (SPSS V.21, IBM Corporation, New York, USA). The questionnaires returned by 94 subjects were included and statistical analysis was performed including descriptive methods and Chi-squared tests (χ2). The level of statistical significance for χ2 analysis was set at p = 0.05. To deduce whether the responses indicate a relationship between the variables (significant differences in expected frequencies), the p-values were examined. If the p-value of a parameter was greater than 0.05 (p > 0.05), not statistically significant relationship among the variables could be established, and it was not investigated further.

Results and Discussions

The survey contained two parts, one specifically asking about potential injuries of cyclist and one about problems with their current outfit. The response rate from each cluster is as follows: 50 recreational cyclists, 22 elite, 16 amateur and 6 juniors’ cyclists (Table 1).

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