#i always thought master shake and roger would be friends or get along

[rogers-attic]

ok just a few days ago i found out that both master shake and roger are voiced by the same guy in the german dubs I WAS NOT FUCKING OKAY AND AM WAS GOING INSANE

these old tweets i made NOW FUCKING MEAN SMTH

and another fun fact is that both athf and american dad already have orange german characters in the original english version

[pregnant-piggy]

The Crow’s Nest

The Crows x reader

words: 12.1k

warnings: underage drinking, fire, character death, guns

A/N: am I slowly indoctrinating you with my pirate obsession? perhaps... ;) this is based on a dream I had while reading the first book and it wouldn’t leave me until I had written it. Let me know what you think of it! <3

translations (part real languages, part fictional):

Teufel -- devil

Fortell meg -- tell me

Jer elsker pe -- I love you

Faen -- fuck, damn

Goede morgen -- good morning

The grey waves hit against the hull of The Teufel, rocking the ship back and forth in the restless water. The howling wind creeped around every corner, finding even the warmest spots to cool the air and sparing no one from its breeze. The old sails fluttered in the force of the wind and loud slaps could be heard whenever the canvas hit against the mast. Little raindrops were falling from the sky, creating a layer of damp on everything in the open. 

Thunder sounded far away in the sky, back in the open sea, but The Teufel was going the other way. Kerch was approaching steadily and if the winds didn’t turn suddenly, the ship would reach land before the sun had fully set. 

The coastline of Ketterdam, the city The Teufel would arrive at, was peculiar with its high buildings and built-up streets. The lights of the city lit up the sky like an orange halo in the darkening heavens. 

You leaned with two arms on the railing of the ship, watching the city approach over the water. Behind you the strongest members of the crew were working on the sails, steering the schooner into the right direction. You listened to the shouts and orders with half an ear, imagining what the city of Ketterdam would be like and where you would go after the ship had moored. Unlike many of the older ones in the crew you had never been to Kerch before. In the last two years The Teufel hadn’t gotten close to the island, finding enough profit near the coasts of Novyi Zem. Three weeks ago, however, the captain had ordered to turn the sails and head South, much to your delight. 

Your entire life you had heard stories about Kerch. When you were very little, you had asked your grandmother over and over again to tell you about her trips to Ketterdam. Though you had been too young to understand most of what her stories meant, you had adored how your grandma was able to take you to a different world with her words only. It was a gift that you most admired and one that she had passed on to you. 

Your parents passed away in a futile attempt to protect the town against the brutality of the land’s council. You had been just seven years old and the surviving neighbours hadn’t known what to do with you, so you had been sent to a boarding school in the countryside. Far away from the danger of the city they’d said, but you had known it was just to get rid of you. You had grown up in a strict environment, in a house full of stern teachers and meek children. But even there you hadn’t forgotten about your grandmother’s stories. Although the students thought you were odd, they would all gather around you in the sleeping hall after midnight when the teachers were to bed and you would tell them a story the same way your grandma had told them to you. 

The older you had gotten the more trouble you’d seemed to cause. Obeying the rules had soon proven not to be something for you, at least not when you thought the rules were useless. With every year you’d grown older, you had found more ways to plant mischief. The punishments had gotten harder every time but you had refused to bend to their rules. Eventually they had been the one to give up and they had kicked you out of the school. At the age of fourteen you had been a homeless orphan only good for trouble. 

For weeks you had travelled on your own and you had ended up at the harbour, where you had stumbled upon The Teufel. At first the captain had refused to take you on; he had no use for a child. It had been your talent to speak Kerch, Ravkan and a little bit of Fjerdan that had gotten you on board the ship that would become your new home. 

For the past two years you had travelled along with the crew, learning to live on the ocean. Not a moment you had regretted your decision. The crew had accepted you as part of their family. The captain, Nerseh, had taken you on as his own daughter, learning you the tricks of maintaining a crew. Mayranoush, the quartermaster, was a strict woman who had at first scared you because she had seemed to be so much like your teachers at the boarding school. After a while you had gotten used to her, however, and it was from her that you had learnt how to shoot and how to read people’s faces like an open book. From the sailing master you learned how to read maps and the gunners had tried to teach you how to aim, but you had never mastered that skill. Stefan had taught you how to fight with a sword, Marina taught you the ropes and Hai learned you basic first aid and other cures that were necessary in combat. 

In two years you had learned enough to make yourself useful on the ship and you had grown from just their translator to a valuable member of the crew. The Teufel was your home and you could not think of a better place for you. 

“Are you excited?” Stefan stood next to you and followed your gaze to the skyline of Ketterdam. 

You tore your eyes from the city and looked at the big blond man with his bright blue eyes. When you first stepped on the ship he was the first one of the crew to approach you and you had been surprised by the Fjerdan’s conviviality. Your teachers had always taught you that the people from Fjerda were cold and distant. But ten minutes spent in Stefan’s company proved all of that wrong. He had guided you in your first weeks and now he was your best friend, and your first friend. 

“I am,” you nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about this place since I was a toddler. I can’t wait to see what it's like.” 

Stefan smiled at you and leaned down on the railing next to you, his arm against yours. A warm feeling washed over you and sparkles shot through your upper body. The wind had died down to a light breeze and your hair wavered behind your neck as the wind blew directly into your face. A scent of smoke, burned sugar and oil filled your nose and you closed your eyes, taking in the smell and registering the different scents. This was the essence that your grandmother had talked about and now you were experiencing it yourself. 

When you opened your eyes you noticed that Stefan was watching you intently. You smiled and raised one arm from the railing so you could turn to him. He wanted to say something to you, you could see it in his face. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” he stammered, his pale cheeks blossoming red immediately. 

“Fortell meg, Fjerdan,” you ordered Stefan to tell you and, though you didn’t think it was possible, his cheeks got even redder. 

The big, blushing man looked away from you and cleared his throat. His gaze was pointed at his feet and then he turned it to the horizon. The wind was playing with the blond curls of his hair, that looked golden in the light of the setting sun. He cleared his throat again and then he mumbled something. 

“I can’t hear you, doofus,” you laughed and nudged your shoulder against Stefan’s arm. “A little louder, please.” 

Stefan sighed and turned his head to look at you. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on your upper arm. The feeling of his warm hand on your bare arm made your heart flutter. Your lips parted and you sucked in a little breath. 

“Jer elsker pe,” Stefan whispered. I love you. 

Your heart stopped. The pulse in your chest disappeared for a moment and when your heart beat again, it did twice as hard. Stefan was no Heartrender but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat too. 

“Stefan, I—” you started, taking Stefan’s other hand in yours. 

However before you could go on, Captain Nerseh appeared from his hut and started shouting over the main deck. “Stefan! I need you up front!” Nerseh said and he walked to the forecastle deck, ordering the rest of the crew on his way. Stefan was still standing in front of you, your hands holding his but his face turned to the captain. This one turned around. “Now, please!” 

The Fjerdan let go of you and hurried away, leaving you on your own. You held onto the railing for support as you felt your weight shift to your legs. All the excitement you had felt just mere minutes ago had now completely vanished and you looked around panicky. Not even a lifetime on sea could have prepared you for that. 

-=-=-

The Jolly Roger was changed for a neutral flag with the colours of Novyi Zem and The Teufel navigated into the Fifth Harbour of Ketterdam. Once the anchor had been lowered and the ship lay still, a small party was sent out to get stock while the others were free to go wherever they wanted. 

Stefan was sent with the quartermaster, Mayranoush, and Hai for food and ammunition and he was off the schooner before you could follow him. You watched him leave the Harbour, standing on the main deck. His blonde hair shone in the last rays of sunshine and he was visible for a long time, until his figure disappeared in the bigger crowd. Gone before you could talk to him. 

“I want y'all back at twelve bells,” Captain Nerseh said and he waved the rest of the crew off. 

Hesitantly you walked off The Teufel onto the docks. The first few steps were wobbly and uneven, as it had been a few weeks since you had last walked on land, but after shaking your feet and legs, you got used to walking again. Those familiar tingles, that you always got when walking on shore after so long on sea, shot through your legs and you were filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. 

Here on land the scent was even stronger, luring you into the streets. You glanced back at The Teufel over your shoulder and shrugged off the uneasy feeling you got at the thought of leaving your home behind in the harbour. Pulling up your boots a little, you turned away and stepped into the city, finally experiencing what you had dreamed of for so long. 

The streets of Ketterdam were unlike any other place you had ever been. Big crowds of tourists and inhabitants were moving as one through the small streets of the Lid. Men, women and children all walked through each other, barely taking notice of the persons passing them. The lights coming through the shop windows casted yellow and white shapes on the cobblestoned ground, with which the shadows of the people danced. 

You followed the crowd into the buzzing parts of town, falling in step with the other tourists. Many years ago your grandmother had told you that the Lid was filled with gambling houses and it was the place where the most tourists stuck around. And indeed, as you walked on the crowd gradually got thinner with people leaving right and left to fall into the temptation of the colourful buildings decorated with bright lights. Faint music combined with the loud chatter of people in all languages hung in the salty air, like a blanket that was thrown over this part of the city. 

However, all that you could think of was Stefan’s face and his words. Jer elsker pe. In a haze you walked through the busy streets, hearing Stefan’s voice over and over in your head. His touch was imprinted on your skin, the place where his hand had been was burning hot on your arm. 

You had known, that was the worst part. For a few weeks you had known. You had sensed it whenever he was looking at you or when he was touching you. The look on his face was different from before. There had been a softness on the Fjerdan’s face that hadn’t been there before. A weakness. It was an undeliberate thought, but it made its way in your mind anyway. If the past ten years of your life had taught you one thing it was that you had to hide your weaknesses. From enemies and friends. 

It had been a particular hot night at the boarding school and you hadn’t been able to sleep. That day a new girl had arrived at the school and she’d sat down next to you at breakfast. Many of the others had scowled at her but she had ignored them and instead introduced herself as Lotty. It was the first time that someone had voluntarily come to you and the rest of the day you had spent getting Lotty familiar with the school and its surroundings. 

You’d heard the girl stirring next to you and padded over to her. Upon seeing your face, a smile had spread on Lotty’s face and you had whispered: “Want to get out of here?”

Very cautiously you and Lotty had left the sleeping hall and on your toes you had run through the empty corridors of the school building. All the teachers had been asleep already and the big clock in the hall had showed that it was two hours after midnight. 

The front door had opened with a small squeak and the dark night air had welcomed you and Lotty outside. The gardens of the boarding school surrounded the entire building with grass, flowers and low bushes. A sweet, humid scent had hung in the air, the result of the sun that had shone on the flowers all day. 

You and Lotty had sat down in the middle of a flower bed and you had told her about everything. For the first time in your life you’d felt like you had a friend and you had trusted her with some of the secrets you knew about the school’s building. For hours you two had sat outside, until the sun had started to rise and the petals of the flowers had started to collect the morning humidity. As you had gotten up, you’d put your hand on the ground to push yourself up and you felt something crawl under your palm. You had squealed and stumbled back quickly, staring in disgust at the place where you had put your hand. There on the ground a thick spider had quickly crawled away under the flowers. 

Lotty’d started to laugh and you had scolded her. Spiders had always scared you and no matter how much you’d tried to get over it, whenever you saw one you couldn’t help but shudder. 

Back at the sleeping hall you had fallen into a restless sleep for the last few hours, dreaming of a thousand legs and jaws. When you’d woken up, Lotty hadn’t been there and at breakfast she had sat with the other children, not with you. 

The next morning you had woken up with something crawling up your arm and the sound of laughter. 

And now Stefan had shown you his weakness. Though you would never use it against him like Lotty had done to you, there was something that bothered you now you knew his weakness. What if unintentionally you would cause him trouble or danger?

“Watch where you’re going!” a man sneered and he roughly pushed past you. 

You shook your head out of your thoughts and looked around. The bright gambling dens had been replaced by small, tall and crooked houses made by all different sorts of bricks and wooden beams for support. The streets were still busy but this was a different crowd. People with comical masks and cloaks moved in little groups, quickly and rushed, as if they were afraid someone would stop them. A few people wore gaudy suits and moved proudly over the streets, their hands in their pockets. The others wore more ragged clothes in dark colours and they walked with their heads down to the ground. 

You were in the Barrel, undoubtedly. The gambling houses were still there, but more scattered. Still they weren’t much different from the ones on the Lid; a lot of dramatic lightning and flashing colours, all so that the most people would come in. 

The East Stave was on your left. You had refused ever to step foot near the brothels on the West Stave. The horrid stories that your grandmother had told you had already been enough to keep you away and the rumours you had heard from the crew on The Teufel had only added to that. 

Your legs were getting tired from walking so much and the unnerving thoughts were still whirling through your head. On The Teufel you would have searched for Stefan and gotten drunk with him hidden somewhere on the deck, but Stefan wasn’t here and The Teufel was far back in the harbour. So instead you searched for the least ostentatious building and eventually settled on a gambling club called the Crow Club. 

A silver crow hung over the entrance of the club and you looked up to it as you walked under it, entering the building. You stepped into a big hall that was parted in two by a lowered floor in the back. The black lacquered walls had no windows and all sense of night and day was lost as soon as you stepped inside. The little clock around your neck told you it was little after ten bells. That meant that you had one hour and a half before you had to go back. 

You sat on one of the crimson stools at the bar and ordered a drink from the man behind it. He eyed you for a moment and you noticed he was contemplating whether to give someone your age a drink, but he seemed to decide that profit is profit and poured you a drink. You watched him while he worked for a moment. He was not as old as you had thought him to be. The only wrinkles in his face were near the corners of his mouth and the cracks next to his eyes. His skin was dark bronze and his hair pitch black, almost like the walls around him. And what he lacked in height he seemed to be making up in strength, as his arms were muscular and he looked strong enough to throw a man twice his size out of the place. 

The drink burned in your throat, but you threw it all in anyway. For a moment your gullet was on fire and the next moment it was gone. The years among a group of adult pirates had learned you how to take your drinks. 

You asked the bartender for another and you didn’t miss the surprise on his face, but turned the other way, looking at the parlor around you. Most of the tables in the lower part of the room were occupied by a variety of people. In the left corner of the room sat a couple, their feet entangled under the table, but their eyes fanatically looking at the other. 

At a table closer to you sat a woman in a bright red dress with feathers in her hair. From your place you could see the cards in her hand and if you stretched your neck a little you could also see the cards of her neighbour. The table was playing Ridderspel, a simple card game played with the lower numbers of the cards. It was a game to make little money quickly and one of the most played card games in gambling houses everywhere. 

The woman had two sevens, an eight and a four of the crow-marked cards in her hand and she pushed forward four little red chips when the dealer asked to place the bets. Her neighbour pushed forward two grey chips and the man opposite of her one grey and one red one. The dealer collected the chips and stacked them in the middle of the table. 

On The Teufel you had played many games of Ridderspel with the crew. However, after a while they had banned you from playing games for money. It hadn’t taken long for you to see connections between the faces of people and their cards. You could see a pattern in the order they played their cards and knew after showing the first card of the game who would win.

It had started with Ridderspel. One dark night under the light of a lantern you had been playing the game with Stefan and two others of the crew, Vinay and Cilka, when you had noticed that whenever Cilka got her cards the lightest frown would form on her face if she didn’t get good cards. It was invisible to anyone else, but you saw how her eyebrows would twitch shortly. You knew that everyone had their tells, some more obvious than others, but after that night you had searched the others’ signs. Vinay’s shoulders would slump a little if he had bad cards and Stefan’s eyes would flicker shortly over the table if his cards were good. 

After you had learned their signs, you’d noticed that there was a pattern in the way they played their cards. If they had bad cards, they played the highest first, hoping to at least get a little out of the game. If they had good cards, they would hold their highest cards for the end, but they wouldn’t play their lowest card first either. It was a complicated strategy, a difficult trick on your mind, but after months of examining the game, both playing and from afar, you found the pattern. From there on it wasn’t difficult to find the patterns in other games and soon you were banned from playing games on the entire ship. 

However, whenever you were on land and there was a gambling house in the city, the crew would often ask you if you could just play some games so they could get some money. You knew that with you playing at the table the game wasn’t fair anymore, but you would do it night after night if that meant you could do something for your crew. 

Now, you knew that the woman in red had a good chance of winning the game. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and kept staring at her cards. So much for a bluffing face. The dealer asked to play the first card and the woman threw one of her sevens on the table. Not the highest and not the lowest. Her neighbours answered by throwing an eight and a five. 

The next round was played and now the woman played her four, receiving another eight and a seven. She is playing out her opponents. If they wanted to win, they would have to change the course, but you feared it was already too late for them. The woman threw her eight on the table and the others a seven and a five. The last card was played and at her seven, the woman got a six and a four. 

As the dealer started to count the points you turned away; you didn’t need to count the points to know that the woman in the red dress had won the game. 

“Another one, please,” you said to the barman in Kerch and he nodded at you. Curiosity could be read off his face even by those who didn’t have your talent of understanding facial expressions. 

When he gave you your glass his eyes lingered on your clothes and you realised how idiotic you must look in this environment. Though the people in the hall weren’t all wearing evening dresses or three-piece suits, you knew that someone in a black jacket and leather boots to their knees would stand out. Consciously you stroke a hand over the braids in your hair and looked at the bartender. 

“Don’t worry,” he said as he noticed your looks. “Many tourists come dressed up.” 

You tilted your head to the side and hesitated telling him the truth. Figuring there wouldn’t come much trouble from doing so, you sat up and shook your head. “These are my normal clothes.” 

The barkeeper cocked an eyebrow and then went on with cleaning the glasses. You stared at the brown liquid in your glass before you knocked it back and softly placed your glass back on the bar. The movement caught the attention of the man behind the bar and he lifted the bottle, silently asking if you wanted another one. 

“Sure,” you answered and pushed your glass forward. 

The way the man filled the glass reminded you of how Stefan used to fill your glass. While you preferred to drink straight from the bottle, he would always insist on taking glasses from the galley. 

“We can at least pretend we’re fancy,” he’d say, as you were hidden in the shadows of the back of the ship. 

A faint smile played on your lips as you thought back of Stefan, but your inside burned as you heard his last words back in your head. Jer elsker pe. The truth was that you weren’t quite sure if you loved Stefan back. He had always been close to you and you appreciated him being such a good friend to you, but you didn’t love him the way he loved you. At least, that’s what you thought. You had never really experienced love before, so how could you know what it felt like? 

“Maybe you should slow on those,” the bartender said as you placed yet another empty glass on the bar. 

“No,” you rasped, fighting the burn in your throat. “I’ve had worse.” 

“I can stop giving you, y’know?” the man said as you lifted your glass again for another. 

“And not get paid? You wouldn’t.” 

The barkeeper laughed and poured you another glass. This time you didn’t immediately drink it all, but you turned around on your stool and looked at the biggest table on the floor. It was an oval-shaped table, lined with the same crimson of the seat you were sitting on, and around it sat seven people. Dice lay in the middle of the table, surrounded by grey, black and red chips and a stack of cards. 

Even in the noise of the other tables and people walking between them, the conversations at the big table were clear. 

“You’re bluffing!” the man on the right shouted. He was big in all aspects someone could be big. The hems of his trousers were too high up his legs and the sleeves of his jacket were too short. The golden buttons of his blouse were about to burst and his hat kept sliding off his head because it didn’t fit well. His appearance was only mimicked more by his dark red cheeks and the little drops of sweat that were rolling down his face. 

“Am not,” the lanky, dark brown man on the other side of the table said. He had a wicked grin on his handsome face and seemed to be in his element. His feet were lying on the edge of the table and he held his cards loosely in his hand, like they were to fall any moment. 

“How could you—? You don’t— No one—” the big man started and the colour drained from his face. You had missed what the beginning of the conversation was, but surely it was not something the big man wanted to come out. 

“Maybe you should try to keep such information to yourself,” the tall guy said. “Now, are you in or out?” 

The surrounding men at the table nervously shifted in their seats as they looked at the big man. He patted his head with a silk handkerchief and stared at his cards for a moment. A new set of sweat seemed to pour over his forehead and eventually he threw his cards open on the table. ‘I’m out.’ 

The man got up from the table and he hurried away, followed by the other five men. They walked past you in a queue outside and when they were all gone, the guy at the table smiled pleased.

“He was bluffing,” you noted, after taking a quick glance at the cards that were lying open on the table. 

“What?” the barman asked, who had watched the play with you, and you were reminded that you were not alone. 

A warm rush spread in your cheeks and you turned your head to the bartender. “That guy was bluffing to scare the man away.” 

The man squeezed his eyes at you and said a little too late: “Why’d you think that?” 

“Look at the cards on the table,” you said and peered back at the big table. “That man on the left had two of the highest and the person two seats from him had another. I can’t see the cards on this side of the table, but whatever they are, this guy can never have enough to win.” 

The barman looked at you for a few seconds. “How do you know?” 

You looked out over the hall, scanning the games on other tables. “You learn things,” you shrugged and then nodded to a little table closer by. “See that guy? How he is glancing between his cards and the dealer’s hands?” The barkeeper leaned forward over the bar and looked at where you were pointing. “He has good cards and is trying not to let anyone notice it.” 

The man leaned back from the bar and filled your glass without you even asking. He rested one hand on the bar and looked at you. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Well, you have to do something on a ship,” you said, swirling the drink. “Eventually staring at the stars all night gets a bit boring.” 

The barman snorted laughingly. “You’re from a ship?” Then he looked at your outfit again and he nodded. “Now that makes a lot more sense,” he mumbled. “When did you arrive?” 

“About an hour ago,” you answered and pulled the clock from your blouse. 

Meanwhile, the handsome guy from the big table walked to the bar and he greeted the bartender as he sat down one seat away from you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and stopped at the guns on his hips. The clock lowered without you realising and you gave up on trying to hide your stare. 

The two pearl-handled guns shone in the light from above and you shook your head in disbelief. Zemini-made revolvers were rare, and you would know. You had heard stories about them from your mates on The Teufel, but none of them had ever even had one in their hands. Only Nerseh in his younger years had owned one, but he had lost it in a battle. The Zemini guns were feared among your crew and there were two of them right next to you now. 

“See anything you like, darling?” the guy asked and your eyes shot from his revolvers to his face. He had that same mischievous smile on his lips and there was a glimmer in his eyes as he raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Those are pretty rare guns,” you said, ignoring the guy’s suggestive tone. 

He took one of the revolvers from the holster and let it twirl in his fingers. Though you didn’t want to, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the ease with which the boy handled his guns. You had gotten quite familiar with your own guns, but you had yet to learn that. 

The boy must have seen your googling eyes because he smiled a bit more real now and said: “I know, Zemini-made. You don’t find that very oft—” 

“Faen!” you interrupted in Fjerdan, using the word that you had heard Stefan say so often. You had looked at your watch and realised that it was much later than you had thought it was. It was already a quarter till midnight and it would take you at least twenty minutes to get back to the harbour. You jumped from your seat, threw some coins on the bar and straightened your coat, mumbling: “Stupid windowless walls…” 

Without sparing another look at the two guys you left behind you stormed out of the Crow Club into the street. Rain was pouring down from the sky and you shivered at the sudden cold. For a second you looked around and scanned your surroundings and then you hurried off in the direction you had come from. 

People passed you in a blur of colours and shadows as you ran over the streets, desperately trying to find a way back to the harbour. The captain wouldn’t appreciate you being late and it would most likely cause you a night scrubbing the deck on a night you actually had been free. But perhaps Stefan would accompany you. 

Your mind automatically seemed to find a way to think of your best friend. The situation in the gambling hall had taken your mind off him for a minute but now your logical senses were numbed by the alcohol the Fjerdan was back again. Stefan could’ve easily found his way back. The boy could find a route almost everywhere, even in a place you had never been before. He would just follow the direction of the sun or look at the leaves on a tree and know where you were. 

But Stefan wasn’t there to guide you back. He was probably already back at The Teufel, waiting impatiently on you. 

Every alley looked the same and all the gambling houses had the same flashy lights. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or just running in circles. Somewhere above in the sky you heard the twelve bells that told you you had to be back already. With the feeling you had passed the house on the corner of the street three times before, you ran on, ignoring the protesting people if you ran into them. You almost fell over your own feet and nearly stumbled into a girl dressed all in dark clothes. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pushing away from her softly but when you turned around to her she was nowhere to be seen on the street. You were too much in a hurry to worry about that and ran on, sighing in relief when you saw the fluorescent lights from the Lid. 

The Lid was filled with more people than the Barrel you ran from and it was harder to manage a way through. You pushed and threw yourself between people, growing a little nauseous from the smell of so many bodies together combined with the smells that came from the kitchens around. As you hurried through the tourists, your breath was high in your throat and you could feel your heart beating in your head. Heavy breaths fell over your lips but you refused to take a moment to rest. 

The glittery lanes were soon exchanged for the dark open space of the harbour. The cobblestones echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ran. People shot you weird looks as you raced past them. 

The closer you came to where The Teufel lay, the busier it became, but instead of searching for a reason you just hoped that you could still make it past them. However, the crowd became too big for you to run as fast as you had and you slowed your pace slightly. You zigzagged between people and pushed them aside, getting various insults thrown at your head. As you came closer to the inner circle of the crowd, you realised that they weren’t just randomly standing there; they were standing around The Teufel. 

You stopped running completely and approached the busiest part of the crowd at walking pace. Now you weren’t focusing on your own thoughts you heard that the people were all muttering and talking with each other—and that the people closer to the water were screaming and shouting. 

The few people that stood in between you and your destination you pushed aside softly and the closer you got the more you felt a strange heat on your face. When the woman in front of you stepped aside, your jaw dropped. 

There, in the water, right where it had been when you left earlier this night, lay The Teufel completely in flames. Not a single part of the main deck had been spared, flames were reaching high up in the sky, eating the masts like a monstrous creature. Thick dark grey clouds hung above the ship in the dark blue night sky. The flames curled around the hull of The Teufel, like a devil claiming its prey. Wooden walls collapsed, iron melted and ropes caught fire, sending the flames up to destroy the crow’s nest. 

Among the chaos on the shore and the sound of the fire, all you could think about was one thing. My family. The shouting and cackling couldn’t drown out the screams of terror that came from the belly of the ship. Cries for help, prayers to all gods and saints. Your crew was in there. Your people were inside of a burning ship. Your friends and family. They were all trapped. 

It could have been you. If you hadn’t lost track of time, you would’ve been there with them. You would have arrived before the twelve bells, gone inside with the others and would be trapped in there now. It could have been you, but instead it was your crew. And you didn’t know what was worse. 

There was nothing you could do. No way to run on the ship and free your mates without catching fire yourself. No way to stop that fire that was capturing The Teufel. No human could do it, no grisha either. This was more than an accidental fire, this was controlled. Don’t fight a bigger power without knowing its weaknesses. It was a phrase your father would say to you whenever you had been mad at the world as a child. The advice he had ignored before he had gone to fight his way into death. You didn’t know what the fire’s weaknesses were, if there were any weaknesses at all. All you could do was stand on the shore with your hands clasped over your chest and your eyes stuck on what had once been The Teufel. What had once been your home. 

The screams of the crew were engraving themselves in your mind, cutting you open and leaving deep wounds. The last bit of your hope had been left behind on that ship and was now burning away, leaving nothing but a hollow chest. 

Time passed by as you stood on the shore, watching the last remains of your home falling apart. You didn’t look away when the fire burst through the portholes in the hull of the ship and you didn’t flinch as you heard the last sounds you would ever hear from your crewmates. You took it all in, soaked your mind in the pain, feeling the shock and terror making place for fury. One day, you promised yourself. One day you would find a way to get revenge. 

You knew that in a city like this news would spread fast. Surely before sunrise all the people in Ketterdam would know of the ship that had burned away in Fifth Harbour. You wouldn’t be safe; not from the questions of the people and not from whoever had done this. You were sure that they wouldn’t be too keen on having missed someone from the crew before they blew it up. Chances were big that, if anyone ever found out that you had belonged to The Teufel, your days would be numbered. 

Fortunately you hadn’t told anyone you were part of The Teufel’s crew. Anyone but the barman at the Crow Club. You hadn’t literally told him, but you were sure he could put two and two together. 

Once the fire had been settled and the ashes of the wood were only still smoldering, you straightened your back. You would find the barman and ask him not to tell anyone. Or perhaps you would find your ending in the streets of the Barrel. The Teufel had been your home for two years, but it was time to get moving. 

-=-=-

The Crow Club stood proudly in front of you. Rain was running down your face, following the lines of your neck into your blouse. You were cold and your entire body was shaking but you knew that was more from the shock than the rain. In the back of your head you still heard the screams but you tried to block them out as you stepped to the gambling house. 

As you walked closer to the entrance, a boy stepped in front of the door, blocking your way. He was huge with arms full of tattoos and a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them missing, and when you approached him you realised he was watching you. He expected me. This guy had been waiting for you, he had known that you would come back. How could he?

Hesitating you went forward. You had already seen the gun on his belt and you were quite sure if you turned around and walked away he wouldn’t be afraid to use it. In front of the boy you stopped and leaned to the side to look inside the building. 

“I’m sorry, could I go inside?” you asked, your voice mellow and innocent. “I would really like to warm up a little.” 

The man just tilted his head to the side and his lips turned into a stupid grin. His hand rested casually on his gun, though you knew that all his moves had been precisely calculated. Whether by himself or someone’s orders was your next guess. 

“You better follow me,” the boy said and his eyes glassily looked at you. 

“Do I have a choice then?” 

“No.” The man took his gun from his belt and easily pointed it to your chest. If he shot now he wouldn’t kill you, just harm you. So he wants me alive. 

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and lifted your arms in the air to show you were defenceless. 

The guy roughly pushed you away from the door and held the barrel to your back as he led you away from the Crow Club. 

You weren’t sure why the boy didn’t just put a bullet through your head. If he was part of whoever had burned down The Teufel, why would he want you to stay alive? The rest had been murdered mercilessly, what did they have in mind for you? 

However, if he wasn’t not part of the fire, why did he want to have you at all? You couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong or of any danger you could be. You were pretty much just a harmless teen in a strange city. 

The man pushed you through the street and over a bridge. You made a few turns into small alleys and streets, passing houses in all shapes and kinds. Behind some windows flickered a soft light, others were dark. You heard screaming from one house and music from the house next to it. Laughter of children and cursing from adults. 

You stopped in front of a house that looked exactly like all the others; crippled and on the brink of collapse. The guy held his gun to you as he kicked open the door and then pressed the barrel deeper in your back to make you walk. Slowly you passed over the threshold and stood still in the hall of the house. 

Much different from what you had expected, the inside of the house was not damaged like the outside. While the colours and construction did look old, the house was built to survive for longer than just a few years. 

“Up,” the man mumbled and he nodded to the stairs. 

You followed his order and headed up the stairs, feeling your legs ache from all the walking on land you had done in the past hours. Though you got used quite fast to the difference, a sudden change from sea to shore did have its effects on your body. Especially if you crossed an entire city twice in one night. 

The staircase led to a landing with many doors. The house wasn’t particularly big and with that many doors, you figured the rooms must be small. You wondered what this house was used for. It almost had the feeling of a hostel, but there wouldn’t be many guests if putting a gun to someone’s head was their way of advertising. 

“That room,” said the guy and he gestured at one of the doors in the corridor. 

The wooden planks creaked under the weight of your body. The door of the room was closed and the man with the gun knocked on it with much more restraint than you expected from someone who had just abducted you from the streets. 

It was silent for a moment as you and the man waited for the door to open. Your heart was beating in your throat and you swallowed deeply. Nerves were running through your body, sending tingles down to your fingertips. 

The door opened and before you had time to look inside, the guy pushed you inside and closed the door again behind you. You were inside a small room, with a bed, a chair and a closet that put half the room in shadows. On the wall opposite of the door was a little window, showing the side of another building that stood next to the house. The window reminded you of the portholes inside the hold of a ship, your least favourite place as there was very little light. 

However, the room didn’t have much space in your mind as your attention was caught by the person in the room. He could not be much older than you yet it felt like this boy had more character than an old man. His face was hidden in the shadows but you could make out the hard lines framed by sleek black hair. His eyes shone like emeralds under his dark brows and there was a malicious glance in them when they rested on you. 

“Sit,” he spoke and the rock salt rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “Please.”

You sat down on the simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, though you rather would’ve kept standing. The boy was towering over you now, standing in front of you, leaning on his cane. Your eyes slid to the silver handle under his gloved hands. It had the shape of a crow’s head.  

 “Who are you?” you asked, trying to calm the nerves you felt rushing through you. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the boy, but you also couldn’t deny the unease in your body.

The boy cocked his head to the side and the smallest wicked grin played on his lips. “An hour ago a ship was set ablaze in Fifth Harbour,” the boy said and you looked away from his stern gaze. “The Teufel. A rather bold way of naming a ship, after the devil, isn’t it? Nothing is left of The Teufel, no plank, no crewmate. Or at least, so is said. That is why you are here, not y/n?” 

Your head snapped up to the boy and your eyes narrowed at him. “You know my name?” 

“I know lots, y/n, and your name happens to be on that list,” the boy said and it was a little harder for him to hide his smirk. He’s enjoying it, you realised in disbelief. This is what he’s trained for. “I also know that you are the only living crewmate and that you visited my club this evening.” 

“Your club?” You frowned—he seemed way too young to have a successful gambling club. 

“Yes, my club,” the boy repeated and he shifted his weight, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “You sat at the bar and ordered more drinks in two hours than an average adult would in four hours.” 

You looked back at your feet. You knew you had trouble staying away from the drinks, but that didn’t make it any nicer when someone pointed it out. At sea it had never really mattered—the others had drunk with you and as long as you did your duties successfully the captain didn’t care if you were sober or not. 

“You spoke with no one and just watched the games, until my barman got some information out of you,” the boy went on and you felt his gaze on you. “He said you were able to determine the outcome of the game after just the first card was played.” 

“So?” you shrugged. Surely that was not why the boy had gotten you there and it was definitely not something that was on your mind right now. All you could think of were the screams and the longer you sat in the dark room, the more cramped it became. 

“Can you?” 

“I don’t see how—” 

“Answer the question.” His voice was hard and cold, but laced with curiosity that he failed to hide from you. 

“I guess I can, yes.” 

The boy stayed silent for a while and the tension in the room reached for your throat. You had never been one for small rooms, that’s why you had chosen for the sea. And now the anxiety of all that had happened that night was piling up on your chest, like someone pressing down on you. The walls were closing in on you, leaving you gasping for breath. Your clothes were still wet and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck, but you were no longer cold. 

You clenched your hands around the fabric of your blouse, feeling it crumple between your fingers. But even in your panicked state you could see the change in demeanor in the boy. He planned this. He had known this would happen, he had deliberately put you in this room, knowing what it would do to you. 

“What do you want from me?” you breathed, looking up to meet his eyes, and then added with an intensity you didn’t know was in you: “Did you kill them?” 

The hard expression on the boy’s face fell for a moment as he looked at you. For a minute he turned into a boy his age, someone with a soul. “I promise you I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with the fire.” Then he straightened his back and slammed his cane on the floor, pulling himself out of the moment. “I have business. We’ll continue in the morning.” 

The boy limped to the door and the cane suddenly made more sense. He pulled the door open and stepped through it when you interrupted him. 

“Who are you?” 

He looked over his shoulder and casted a dark glance at your figure. You had stood up from your chair and were still holding onto the back for balance. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t read and you feared that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened. 

“Kaz Brekker. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

-=-=-

The mattress you were lying on was lumpy and hard, forcing your back to straighten in a way it never had to. The blanket was itchy and heavy and pressed hard on your chest, not allowing you to take deep breaths. 

You were shifting in and out of sleep, unable to tell reality from imagination. One moment you were staring at the dark ceiling above you, the next you were sitting alone in the hold of The Teufel. The room around you moved in front of your eyes, the shadows dancing on the walls. In the ship, water slowly rose around you. You tried to get up, tried to run away, but it was as if you were glued to the floor. Unable to move you sat waiting for the rising water to reach for your throat. 

Something moved in the room. It was a flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye but enough for you to notice. You forced your eyes open, but the water was rising so quickly it was impossible for you to focus on anything else. The water level was at your jaw now. You took a final breath and the shadow in the room moved again. Closing your eyes against the water, it rose above your nose. 

Then there was more movement. The shadow was coming closer to you, moving with the grace of a cloud. 

Feeling the water on your face, you opened your eyes and shot up in the bed. The water disappeared and you were in the dark room again, shaking and coughing. Yet the threat wasn’t gone; the shadow was still in the corner. 

You shifted to the side and rested your back against the cold wall, looking at the shadow in anticipation. While your heart was beating in your throat, you calmly looked ahead of you until the shadow moved from the corner. 

“How did you see me?” the shadow asked and you shrugged. 

“You move like a spider.” And I’m afraid of spiders. 

Out of the shadows stepped a young girl, hidden in a flowy cloak that moved along with her. The lack of light threw a veil over the room, covering it with a black and white filter, but still you could make out the brown skin of the girl and her almost black eyes, that were staring right at you. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though it would be no surprise if the girl had something to do with your meeting with Brekker a few hours ago. 

“Look,” the girl said and she moved to sit next to you on the bed. You caught a shimmer of something near her wrists, but when you looked at her she was wearing a light smile. “This isn’t the worst place to end up. You have walked through these streets; you know where you could have ended.” 

You thought back of earlier this evening when you were walking through the roads of the Barrel for the first time. The girl was right; if you hadn’t been brought to where you were now you could have turned into the colourless types that you had seen or, worse, you could have ended up in one of the brothels. 

“Kaz doesn’t just take anyone in,” the girl continued. “He must think you have some use, or he would have left you on the streets.”

You snorted; that wasn’t exactly a much better prospect. 

The girl must have guessed your thought because she chuckled shortly. “I know it does not seem like it now, but trust me—this is the right place to be.” 

Silence filled the room for a minute as you thought about the girl’s words. Instinct told you that you could trust her, and that her trust once lost, was lost forever. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but you were afraid of the answers. You preferred mystery over knowledge right now. 

The shadow girl was looking at you with pity on her face, like she felt bad for your situation. There was sympathy behind her eyes and compassion in her touch as she placed her hand shortly over yours, giving it the lightest squeeze. 

“What’s your name?” you asked, your throat tightening at the threat of tears. 

The girl stared at you for a second and then she gave you a smile. “Inej,” she said. “But you might hear of me as the Wraith.” 

Inej got up from her place on the bed and walked to the door. Her cloak fluttered behind her through the air as she walked, falling against her legs when she halted. She turned around to you. “Kaz will send someone to get you in the morning.” 

“What will happen?” 

“I don’t know what he has planned,” Inej sighed. “But I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do.” 

She shot you a final smile and left the room silently. The shadow disappeared as quietly as it had come. 

-=-=-

You didn’t know if you had slept at all. Undoubtedly you had dozed off for a while, but for most of the night you had just lain on your back staring at the stains on the ceiling above you. When the morning sun had brightened your room, the hope that it might all be a dream had disappeared when reality came in crashing hard. 

The clothes you had worn last night had dried from the rain, but they no longer brought the comfort they used to. Here wearing those clothes meant that you stood out; you couldn’t blend in. When the same guy as last night had knocked on your door and ordered you to follow him you had left your jacket behind, deciding that the rest of your outfit was conspicuous enough on its own. 

Last night in the dark the house had been silent, but now you heard noise everywhere. There were many more doors than you had thought and behind every one lay a secret. The house seemed bigger now it was light. Although there was no direct sunlight in the corridors you could sense that it was day. Last night you had felt mystery as you had walked through the corridors but now it felt more like the boarding school you had gone to with all the whispers. 

“Where are we going?” you asked the boy who had brought you to this house. 

“Crow Club,” he grumbled and then kept silent. 

You walked the same route you had last night, but now the streets were deserted and the houses quiet. The Barrel was the part of Ketterdam that lived at night. 

The big, silver crow that hung above the entrance of the Crow Club like a guardian quickly came to your sight and you shivered lightly. Entering that club was what had gotten you in this situation and you feared you would only get deeper in this mess when you entered again. 

However, the big guy behind you left you no choice and before you even had time to think he had already pushed you over the threshold. 

Stumbling inside you were greeted by the same black, windowless walls and the same stuffed scent. The crimson stools at the bar were unoccupied but the tables on the gambling floor were played on, despite the early hours. Games of Ridderspel and Spijker were in full motion as you were led through a door on the side of the room. 

“Close the door behind you, Pim,” a voice from the shadows said and the boy who had led you there, apparently named Pim, closed the door. 

You looked at the strange scene in front of you. You hadn’t known what to expect but it sure wasn’t a gambling parlor. There was one big table in the middle of the room and around it stood eight chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied and with a jolt you recognised the boy from the Zemeni guns. 

“Goede morgen,” he smiled at you as he leaned back in his chair. “Care for a game?” 

“What?” You stood rooted to the ground, staring in confusion at the guy at the table. 

From the shadows on the side of the room Kaz Brekker stepped. The loud, rhythmic thud from his cane on the floor was the only sound in the room as he walked to the table. He stopped in the middle and looked up at you with his hard cold gaze. 

“Play a game,” he said, resting his two hands on the crow head of his cane. 

“I don’t understand,” you tried. 

“It’s easy,” Brekker said. “You said you were good at card games, right? So prove it—play a game with Jesper.”

Jesper, the boy at the table, flashed his smile full of white teeth at you and raised his eyebrows. It felt like a trap, but you couldn’t forget what Inej had said to you that night. I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do. An invitation to a game wouldn’t be your end. 

Behind you Pim stepped closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder to push you forward. Within a second you had turned around and taken hold of his arm, twisting it dangerously close to breaking. The boy looked at you with somewhat of fright on his face and there was a little wave of triumph in your stomach. The emotions of the situation got the better of you and your heart was racing as you felt the anger rushing through your veins.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth and pushed his arm a little further. “Understand?” 

Pim’s eyes flashed to the two people behind you and he recollected himself. He pulled his arm from your grip and stepped back to the door, avoiding your eyes and looking gruffly ahead. 

You turned around and found Jesper looking at you in awe and even Brekker couldn’t hide his surprise. Then you nodded at the two men and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Let’s play then.”

Brekker nodded approvingly and shuffled the cards with his gloved hands. Your eyes were glued to the smooth movement of the crows imprinted cards. They slid through the fingers of the pale black-haired smoothly like water. 

“I assume you know Ridderspel?” the gloved dealer asked as he placed four cards in front of you on the table. 

“Of course,” you said, watching Jesper intently as this one got his cards. 

Because everything in the situation was new for you, it would take you two or three rounds before you would get used to the game. All, from the cards and chairs to your opponent and the dealer, was unfamiliar to you and combining that with the pressure of supposably your life on the line only made it easier to overlook things. 

Therefore you had to pay extra attention, and mostly to Jesper. His easygoing attitude and big smile were dangerous tricks that could throw you off without any difficulty but you wouldn’t fall for them. You were looking for little things that would give him away, like the slightest falter of his smile, a tiny frown or nervous twitch. 

Jesper picked up his cards and you watched him from the corner of your eyes as you pretended to look at your own cards. For this round however those wouldn’t really matter. First you had to find Jesper’s tell. That you might lose and give him confidence was only an additional benefit; people made more mistakes when they’re blinded by the price. 

At first nothing seemed to happen. Jesper kept the same smirk on his face and played the round with nonchalance, taking all but one pair in the game. Triumphantly he leaned his chair back on two chair legs and stacked his chips in front of him. 

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get it later,” he said, giving you a wink.

You shot him a sweet smile back and took the new cards off the table. After one look you had them memorised and you looked at Jesper. He was looking at his cards with sparkles in his eyes, but yet again it was no different than before. 

Silently you cursed yourself. Last night he had seemed so open and easy to read, but you realised now that there were many more layers to the guy with the pearl-handled revolvers. 

Again you lost the game, now with all your cards being lost to Jesper. His pile of red chips was building and yours was only getting lower. You looked at your chips. If you didn’t win soon the game would be over and you’d lose, and you didn’t want to think what consequences that had. 

The third game were the last cards of the deck before it was shuffled again. Your hand was to your benefit with no card lower than six. You knew there weren’t many high cards, if any at all, left in the game since Jesper had beaten you with high numbers every time. That meant that he would have low cards and now was the perfect time to watch his reaction. 

You took a new approach to finding his tell. Instead of focusing on his facial expressions, that he proved to have under control, you now concentrated on his body language. His shoulders hung relaxed and his arms were resting on the edge of the table. Though you couldn’t see his legs under the table, you knew they weren’t standing neatly on the ground but were instead crossed or at least moving. Nothing in his posture gave him away. 

Until it did. It was a flash of a second, if you’d blinked you wouldn't have seen it. For a fraction of time Jesper’s shoulders fell and his arms stiffened. No one else in the room noticed it, but your senses became hypersensitive. 

Then, when you looked at his face, you saw more. His smirk wasn’t genuine anymore and the sparkles in his eyes weren’t as bright as before. It were minuscule changes, but big messages to you. 

“I raise,” you spoke calmly and you pushed forward the last of your chips. It was all or nothing. 

You saw Brekker raising his eyebrow in the corner of your eye, but you were focused on Jesper. His brows furrowed a little and he pushed forward the same amount. Though he had chips left, if you won this round you would have much more than he, meaning you won this game. 

“Let’s play,” you grinned and opened with your six, your lowest card, but still a rather high card. 

Jesper’s card would be crucial. If he had higher than a six, he would play that and you wouldn’t win the game. If he had a six, he would play that one  and the cards would be evened out, but you would know that the six was his highest card. If he played anything lower than a six it would mean that you had won the game, for no one would lose a round on purpose and play a lower card when they had a higher one. 

Expectantly you looked at Jesper. His smirk had gone and made place for a frown as he looked at the card on the table. His joyful bluffing face was nowhere to be seen and a sigh fell from his lips when he realised his defeat. He threw a five on the table and sunk back in his chair. 

With a grin on your face you played the rest of the round and won all Jesper’s cards. At the end of the game, you rested your chin on your folded hands and smiled at Jesper. “You know what?” you started and Jesper looked up at you. “I think I got it.”

-=-=-

Kaz and Jesper had left the room after the game and Pim was standing on the outside of the door, making sure no one would get in. They had not said a word to you when they left and now you were alone in the silent gambling parlor. At least, that’s what they wanted you to believe. 

“Inej,” you said. “Come out please.” 

No matter how focused you had been on the game, you hadn’t missed the little shadow sneaking inside near the end. And you hadn’t missed how Brekker’s eyes had shifted to one particular corner while he was watching your game with Jesper. 

The girl appeared from the shadow and silently walked over to you, giving you a small smile. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Because you wanted to be seen,” you simply said and by the way her eyes widened you knew you were right. “I don’t really know you, but I have the feeling you can be really invisible if you want. Me seeing you is not a coincidence or special talent of mine. You wanted me to see you.” 

Inej chuckled softly and shook her head. “How do you do that? Knowing what I feel by just looking at me?” 

You smiled and shrugged. “I had a tutor,” you said. “Mayranoush was her name. She taught me how to know people before they even see you.”

The memory of The Teufel’s quartermaster hurt. The weird situation you were in had taken your mind off the loss for a moment, but now there was nothing to distract you the pain came double as hard. 

You thought of your crew and how much you already missed them. Captain Nerseh and his brusque manners but warm heart; Marina and her cheerfulness; Vinay, who was the only one who still had wanted to play games with you. You missed them all so much and you couldn’t believe that they weren’t there anymore. 

But the one you missed the most was Stefan. He had been your best friend for the past two years, you had spent every day together and never had you thought you’d have to say goodbye. You thought of his last words to you. Back then you hadn’t known what to say, but now as you were sitting there without him you knew that you loved him too. But it was too late. 

“Jer elsker pe,” you whispered to yourself. 

“What?” Inej asked and you looked up. You had forgotten she was sitting next to you, so silent she was. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled and then turned to her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Inej answered and she smiled at you. 

“Have you ever loved someone?” 

Inej’s eyes flickered to the door Kaz had just left through and then she looked at you in silence for a minute. “No,” she said finally. “Never loved like that. Why?” 

You stared at the upholstered table in front of you and swallowed away the pain in your throat. “I just… It hurts so much. Everyone always says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but no one ever mentions the pain…” 

“Maybe the pain makes you appreciate it more,” Inej said. “Often we don’t see what we have until it’s gone.” 

A tear rolled down your cheek and you shook your head. Inej was right; you hadn’t known you loved Stefan until he was gone. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way you could get the Fjerdan back and you wouldn’t turn into a mess trying to find one. You would keep your love for him deep in your heart until it was nothing more than a memory. 

“Life’s not fair,” you said and you wiped the tears from your face. “But I’ll get my even.” 

“How?” Inej asked and you turned to her. 

“I will find who burned down my home and I will destroy them to the ground they’re standing on.” 

“I suggest you find help for that,” the cold voice of Kaz Brekker said. 

You looked to your side to meet Kaz and Jesper. Pim was standing inside of the room again, still avoiding your eyes when you looked at him. Jesper was watching you with a smirk and he winked at you when he caught your eyes. 

Finally you turned to Brekker, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression. There was something playing around his lips that you would almost call a smile and his eyes had lost the ice cold gaze. 

“Who do you suggest?” you asked, looking up at Kaz. 

He shrugged half and said, before he walked away: “I have some connections.” 

Pim and he disappeared behind the door and you were left dumbfounded with Inej and Jesper. The latter placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled. You looked between him and Inej and raised an eyebrow. “What just happened?” 

“I think you just became a member of the Dregs.” 

- - - - - 

special thanks to @awritingtree​ for the support and encouragement <3

there’s no taglist yet, but let me know if youw ant to be added to the SoC-taglist!

MASTERLIST

[cheeseburgersstuff]

Hi can u pls write steve rogers x barnes!reader like(enemies to lovers trope) modern au plsss

Hey, nonnie!! Thank you for requesting this! 💕✨ I hope you like it :')

LOVEABLE

Steve Rogers x Barnes Reader

Warnings: language, asshole reader, mistakes, shitty writing:') 

Master-list

You rolled your eyes for the 10th time. Nat, your best friend and not to forget the girlfriend of your brother gave you an annoyed look.

"C'mon why do you hate him so much? He is such a sweetheart." She said, taking a sip of beer.

You looked at her incredulously, "sweetheart? He is a fucking asshole! He always talks shit…" you were about to express your feelings about him when Nat cut you off.

"And what about you? You gave him respect?" You frowned at her words, why was she defending him.

You opened your mouth to reply to her but she didn't let you speak.

"I think you should date him, it's shocking you are not together knowing each other from your childhood." You kept looking at her with an open mouth.

She looked at the corner and got up from her seat.

"Consider what I have said," she said and walked off, probably to your brother, bucky.

You scoffed, shaking your head. You can't stand that blondie, from the start. The moment that guy became friends with your brother, you started to dislike him. 

Bucky stopped spending time with you, it was always about Steve from then. 

He is coming for dinner. Sorry tiger, Steve and I are going to the movies.

Your plans with bucky were ruined because he had to take care of that cute little shit who got beaten by some bullies.

You didn't know why he looked cute to you even with his small fragile frame, he was just so perfect for everyone. So polite, so respectful.

But you knew the truth, he was a shithole, who always found it amusing to annoy you, he knew your dislike for him so rather than doing something to make himself a bit lovable for you, he started to irritate you.

Those annoying mimicries turned into snarky comments and remarks throughout the years.

And that cute little shit was now a big hot asshole you have ever met.

You still couldn't stand him. If it wasn't your big brother's birthday party, you wouldn't tolerate standing beneath the same roof as him. This was how much you hated him.

You sighed again, checking the time waiting for your boyfriend, John.

You looked around to see if he came but there was no sign of him.

Suddenly your gaze fell on a blond girl, throwing herself on Steve, who was quite enjoying her company.

It looked like he felt your gaze and looked towards you. He smirked at your eye contact. You rolled your eyes and turned your back towards them.

You were getting bored when he came beside you.

"Hey, sweetness." Again that teasing tone.

You ignored him thinking he would leave but of course, it was steve grant rogers, he never took a hint.

"Why so lonely huh? Your idiotic boyfriend is not here." 

That made your blood boil. You turned and pointed a finger towards him.

"Shut the fuck up. Do not talk to me and don't even dare to call him an idiot." You hissed at him.

Steve only chuckled and grabbed your finger gently pulling you towards him. You looked at him with wide eyes and tried to pull your finger outta his grip.

"You gotta keep your eyes open girl or else you will keep waiting for him in every party and he will be enjoying with some—"

"Shut up rogers" she yelled and pushed him away. A few people stared at both of you but you didn't care.

"Just because you were fooled by your  fiance doesn't mean everyone is out there cheating on their partners. Not everyone is like Peggy carter" you whispered those words pure-hearted but as soon as those left your mouth, you regret them. 

Your breath was heavy with all that emotions. You looked up at Steve and felt more guilty.

His jaw was clenched. You expected to see hate and anger in his eyes but you saw the worst, sadness. 

He didn't say anything just looked at you for a few seconds and walked away. 

You ran your hand from your hair in frustration. You crossed the limit you knew, you just wanted to make him angry.

Your eyes fell on bucky and nat, they gave you a disappointed look before running outside towards Steve.

~

It had been a week since that disaster and your guilt was doubled in those days.

You just couldn't forget the emotions you saw in those beautiful baby blue eyes.

You were thinking to apologize to him, it was difficult, very difficult but necessary.

But you didn't see Steve after that night. Mat and buck weren't talking to you, just a few words here and there. 

You felt like a criminal. You remember the day when Peggy broke the engagement, three years ago. He was so sad that day, you even heard him cry in bucky's room.

You remember how happy he was on his engagement day. The way he looked at her, the love in his eyes, you felt so weird that day. 

You didn't even want to attend his engagement party but of course bucky forced you. That little shit trapped you to come along with him, saying you were just jealous. 

You would have broken his head hearing if Nat didn't come between you two siblings.

Anyway, you still were thinking about his red puffy eyes from all the crying session when suddenly you buzzed bringing you out of your thoughts.

You looked at your phone. It was a text from an unknown number, with an address and time, along with a picture of your lovely boyfriend with some girl. You couldn't see her face clearly.

You frowned seeing that message. Now you wanted to know whether steve was true or not. 

A part of you believed him, yes you disliked him but still, you knew him from. your childhood.

He would never try to create misunderstandings between you and your boyfriend just to annoy you. 

"Still you talked shit about his love life huh" your inner self made you feel more horrible.

You groaned and fell on the bed with a thud. 

You decide to go to that address and then you would apologize to Steve as well.

~

It was a small cafe, you arrived a bit earlier than the time mentioned.

You didn't know who texted you and who's gonna bless you with their presence there. 

You kept waiting outside the cafe. Some time passed and no one appeared and you started to think it was some silly prank on you. But suddenly you saw John coming out of his car with some bimbo.

She was clinging to him. They didn't notice you and were walking inside the cafe when you marched in front of them.

The expressions on John's face, you would have laughed in any other situation with that moment you were furious.

He called your name with shock, of course not accepting you there. 

That girl just looked at you with confused, annoyed expressions.

You kept looking at him with anger, not knowing what to say.

That is what happens with you, always saying wrong things at the wrong time and when you have to say nasty stuff, nothing comes out of your mouth.

This was your anger.

"Who is she Johnny" that girl with her annoyingly high-pitched voice.

You cringed at her, "his girlfriend" you glared at her.

She got shocked at the revelation, "which I assumed you didn't even know about" you added.

And then it was two of them, she started to fight him ignoring you and the other people around you.

And strangling you were enjoying it. And suddenly she slapped his face. You covered your mouth with shock and to control your laughter too.

She walked off still cursing towards him. John glared at you. His eyes were filled with eyes. And that moment you thought why were you with that asshole.

Suddenly he grabbed your arm and forcefully dragged you towards the corner.

You freed your arm from his grip. You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.

"She slapped me in front of everyone because of you. How did you even get here huh" you were beyond shocked at his words.

And this is the guy for whom you talked shit to Rogers. She groaned internally.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? You are the fucker who is cheating on me and still have the audacity to blame me! Like wow," you yelled at him.

He grabbed you again, this time with much more force, "do not talk with me like that" he murmured.

"Let me go, you idiot. Steve was so right about you, I was so stupid to defend you!" You hissed still fighting to pull him off.

"Oh, so suddenly Steve is all good and I am bad huh? Maybe you are the one cheating on me. Are you fucking that— 

Suddenly he got pulled off of you and was on the floor with a bloody nose.

You looked up and saw an angry Steve glaring at your now ex-boyfriend.

For the first time in your life, you were so happy to see that hit asshole.

John got up for the floor and tried to hit Steve but blocked him by grabbing his fist.

"Don't even try with me, Walker." He freed his hand with a force.

John glared at him and then you, "you will regret this, bitch" he hissed and then walked off.

You sighed in relief and looked towards Steve.

Suddenly you remembered your words and felt awkward. 

"You here?" You asked timidly. Steve was amused by your tone but didn't say anything.

"Umm..yeah. Buck called here" he said.

"And here I am" suddenly bucky came out of nowhere.

"I just wanted to show her how wrong she was to defend that guy," Bucky said looking at you still with disappointment.

"And things she said— he was saying but Steve interrupted.

" seriously buck. I told you to leave that matter." He sounded annoyed and you wanted the ground to swallow you.

Steve sighed and started to walk away. You could feel tears forming in your eyes. Bucky cleared his throat causing you to lookup.

He was giving you, go after him idiot, look. Steve lived near that area, so you ran towards the way his house was. 

Bucky smirked and pulled out his phone. 

"All done" he texted Nat. Finally, their plan to set these idiots up was about to fulfill.

Soon you found him walking on the side road with his hands in his pockets.

"S...steve" you called hesitantly. He turned around to look at you with a bit of a shocked face.

You walked closer to him. "I—" you looked around there were only a few people but still you didn't feel comfortable.

So you grabbed his hand and pulled in the corner, a small alley. 

 He raised his eyebrows at you, making you feel weird in the stomach.

"Steve about that night" 

"It's o—" he was about to say.

"Please let me speak," you said pleading yet a bit annoying tone.

"What I said was horrible, I should not have, no matter whatever the reasons were. Steve, I am so sorry about that. I didn't even mean those words, I don't know why I said those things" you were rambling when you felt his thumbs cleaning the tears from your face.

You didn't know when you started crying. 

"It's okay sweetheart" his voice was soft, just like his eyes. A worried frown was on his face, you wanted to smooth out with your fingers but controlled yourself.

"I surely was sad but I wasn't mad at you. So stop crying now" you nodded but still feeling bad.

Suddenly out of nowhere, something came into your mind which you blurted without thinking.

"Maybe you should come for coffee tomorrow at my house. It will make me feel better and—" he raised his eyebrows encouraging you to speak.

"Maybe we could take a long overdue but necessary fresh start?" You pulled out your hand for him.

"Truce?" She smiled. 

Steve chuckled and shook your hand.

"So it's not a date?" You knew he was annoying you. You rolled your eyes but then bit your lip.

"Umm. Well if you want…" you said looking up at him.

Suddenly his gaze fell onto your lips and then to your eyes. Your heart was beating violently.

He grabbed your face with both of his hands and started to lower his face.

His lips felt so soft against your, so perfect. They molded perfectly as if meant to be together. 

He kissed you softly and slowly, savoring that moment. Loving the feeling of them against his. 

His kiss literally took your breath away and you inhaled deeply after being apart.

"That was long overdue too" he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. You chuckled kissing the tip of his nose.

You couldn't believe you just kissed him. That hot asshole you claimed to hate suddenly seemed all loveable to you...

[jokerscrazybrilliant]

Survive - Chapter 2 - (Captain Rex)

Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4

Story on other platforms:

Quotev · AO3

________

“Master Kenobi,” I bowed my head to him as I entered the briefing room, reciprocating the smile he gave me.

“Hello Nimra, I hope you’re doing well today?” Master Kenobi was, as always, kind and warm, I had only heard about him before being assigned to Master Skywalker but now that I had met him, I wished I could’ve gotten the opportunity to learn from him sooner.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you are getting along.” Anakin commented, seeming to feel ignored. I smirked as I turned to face him, bowing deeply and exaggeratedly.

“Master Skywalker, you’re important too!” I grinned as Obi Wan laughed behind his hands at my teasing.

“Very funny Nim, we’re actually in the middle of a debriefing if you hadn’t noticed.” He gestured to the conference table where Captain Rex and Commander Cody of Obi Wan’s 212th battalion stood.

“Gentlemen,” I greeted as we joined them at the table, earning a polite nod from each in return. “My first mission?” I turned to ask Anakin, unable to hide my excitement. It had only been a few days onboard Master Skywalker’s ship, but that paired with my time on Coruscant, I had been out of the action for far too long.

Anakin shook his head at me with a small smile, “Not for you, not a mission. Just routine inspections of the outer rim outposts.”

“However, I think it would be good for Nimra to join the captain and Commander Cody. I believe it will be good for her to familiarize herself with the standard procedures and how these bases operate.” Master Kenobi said, stroking his beard in thought.

Anakin shrugged at me. “It won’t be too long, and as long as the commanders don’t mind, I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he looked to the clones in question.

“We don’t mind at all, General.” Commander Cody said, giving me a small nod.

“Alright then, that’s settled. You three can get underway then. And don’t forget to check in.” Master Obi-Wan said, then turning to analyze some information on screen.

Anakin pulled me aside before letting me follow them out. “I know you’re here to learn from me, Nim, but these clones have more experience than you and I combined. Make sure you show them the respect they deserve, and use this opportunity to learn from them, as well.”

I bowed my head respectfully, showing him I understood. “Of course, Master.” With that he gave me a pat on the shoulder and a small smile and headed to Master Obi-Wan.

“Have fun!” He gave a wave over his shoulder, and I smiled and walked out to catch up with the commanders.

I might’ve been offended that Master Skywalker felt the need to tell me to be respectful to the clone commanders, but I had heard enough comments from my peers to show that not all Jedi, and not all people, were as respectful as they should be towards our soldiers. While they fought valiantly and gave their lives to protect us, we had people insulting them, and viewing them as less-than. I couldn’t stand that, I had ended friendships with such disrespectful people, and I just couldn’t understand where they were coming from.

Shaking these thoughts out of my head, I quickly made my way to the hangar, not wanting to be left behind.

***

Inspecting the bases was very, very far from interesting, and I huffed as we finally settled in the ship, setting the route for the final base we had to check, the Rishi Outpost. It was definitely a learning opportunity, but I felt like I was back in the classroom, learning all sorts of codes and procedures I needed to have memorized. However, thankfully I didn’t have to do very much, rather I just observed, Commander Cody taking the lead on all the inspections thus far.

I could see how the commander and Master Obi-Wan got along, both of them having a high regard for protocol and rules, whereas Captain Rex was a little more flexible to adjust more to Anakin’s… unique way of doing things.

“You doing alright, commander?” Rex turned to look at me in the small open cockpit, smirking slightly at my slouched posture in the chair.

Giving him an expression that should’ve fried him where he was, I sat up straight, cursing him in my mind. “Fantastic, captain.” I forced the most polite smile I could muster.

“Good.” I didn’t miss the amusement that shone in his eyes, making me thankful I had been assigned to this particular battalion. I wasn’t sure I would’ve made it with Cody’s more serious personality.

“I’m going to contact the Generals, let ‘em know where we’re at.” The commander in question spoke up, gaining both Rex and I’s attention.

I nodded. “Good idea, commander.”

Me and Rex watched silently as Cody opened the frequency to contact Master Obi-Wan. “General Kenobi, General Skywalker,” Commander Cody greeted as they appeared in the transmission.

“Cody. How goes the inspections?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The tracking station at Pastel is fully operational. Captain Rex, Commander Nimra and I are proceeding to the outpost in the Rishi system.”

“Good. Report back once you’ve arrived.”

“Copy that. Cody out.” He ended the transmission as Rex set the ship into hyperspace.

“How long to the Rishi outpost?” I asked

“Feeling tired sir?” Rex turned his head to eye me in question.

“No of course not, I just want to know so that I can prepare myself.” I glowered at him.

“It won’t be a long ride, commander, Rishi isn’t far from here.” Commander Cody piped in.

“Thank you, Cody.” I gave him a sweet smile, wanting to be on his good side since he and Master Kenobi were friends.

“Not a problem sir.”

***

The trip to the outpost really wasn’t far and I was excited for the boring protocol checks to come to an end. Commander Cody signaled the base as we made our approach. “Rishi Outpost, this is Commander Cody, do you copy? Rishi Outpost, please respond.” My brows furrowed as it took them a while to respond to our hails.

“Sorry, commander, we’re experiencing technical difficulties.” A voice responded from over the comms.

“This is the inspection team,” Cody responded.

“Inspection? Negative, we do not require an inspection. Everything is fine here, thank you.” I shared a look with Rex at this strange response. They knew to expect us, and they were speaking with a superior officer, so what was with the unwillingness to comply?

“We’ll be the judge of that. Prepare for our arrival.”

“Roger, roger.” At this Cody shut off the comm, looking uneasy.

“Something’s not right here.” Rex commented, frowning as we approached the landing pad.

“Well, good luck. I’m putting you in charge of this one. I know Commander Sayla has been taking notes, let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention.” Cody said to Rex, me smirking at him behind Cody’s back teasingly.

“Well, you two go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment, I’ll just contact Master Skywalker and update him on our whereabouts.” The two men nodded at me before exiting the ship, leaving me to turn on the comm, tuning in to the correct frequency to reach Master Anakin. A small frown formed on my face as I was met with nothing but static.

Confused, I turned to follow after Rex and Cody. They were talking to an officer out on the deck. A flare showed in the sky, briefly catching my attention before I turned back to see Rex pulling out his pistol, shooting the officer in the head. “Rex are you mad?!” I shouted, running up to the two quickly.

“Relax, commander,” Rex responded, unconcernedly. He reached down and pulled off the dead officer’s helmet to reveal the faceplate of a droid, but not an ordinary battle droid. “Just as I thought. Looks like one of those new commando droids.”

“That flare must have come from the survivors.” Commander Cody noted.

Shots rung out around us as more of those droids revealed themselves, and they had us surrounded. Well, this is going well, I thought to myself sarcastically. “Ambush!” Rex shouted, moving back to find cover.

“Really? And here I thought it was just the welcome party.” I responded over the noise of fire, deflecting bullets to cover the two soldiers behind me.

“Those clankers have tough armour!” Cody commented frustratedly.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d miss those lousy B-One battle droids!” I responded, wanting to laugh but finding it difficult with all the shots I was taking. The droids had caught us unawares and had us completely surrounded, boxing us in between several storage crates and coming at us from all directions.

“We’re cut off!” Rex shouted between shots. Suddenly more commandos came out from inside the base, tossing handfuls of detonators in our direction. While I found it slightly flattering that they felt it necessary to devote so many explosives to destroying us, it also left us a very small chance of surviving the explosion. “Off the platform!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” The men jumped before me and I quickly followed, unsure of what I was diving into, but I had no time to think if I wanted to make it out of the small area before being blown to bits. Before I could fall too far, I felt the wind knocked out of me as someone grabbed me around the waist, stopping my descent.

“I gotcha, commander.” Rex spoke into my ear, causing a warmth to rise to the back of my neck.

“I appreciate the sentiment captain, but you forget, I’m a Jedi.” I turned to look at him with a crooked grin. “I have these cool magical powers that allow me to catch myself before I go splat.”

“Of course, commander.” I didn’t miss the amusement in his voice as he let go of me, and I landed gracefully on the ground, watching as the two soldiers lowered themselves using their cables.

“This certainly complicates things, commander.” Rex addressed Cody as we took in our surroundings.

“No worse than that time on Tibrin.” Cody responded lightly.

“We had the Generals with us on Tibrin. They helped.” My brow raised at how quickly he dismissed my presence. That paired with how he caught me when he certainly wouldn’t have caught Skywalker made me think they didn’t realize what I was capable of.

Well since you don’t think I can help, have fun on your own, I thought to myself, slightly annoyed. Master Kenobi and Anakin had sent me to observe and learn, after all. So that’s what I would do.

The approach of three unknown clones drew our attention and pulled me from my thoughts. I could feel their force signatures, and they were indeed clones, but I didn’t cut in to say that as Rex demanded them take off their helmets. They took them off, albeit confusedly, and introduced themselves as Fives, Hevy, and Echo. Rex and Cody introduced themselves, and me, and I gave a little wave from my spot in the back, but remained silent.

It was interesting to see the way they dealt with these younger clones. It was a new side of Rex I hadn’t yet seen. I stayed with my arms folded across my chest, leaning against a wall of the cave even as a giant eel like creature attacked, watching with only mild interest as the captain took it out with one shot. I was more interested in the young ‘shinies’, as Rex called them.

They were young and inexperienced but they had a firm determination that was refreshing to see. I walked in the back alongside Echo as we found better ground. “So, you’re a Jedi, sir?”

“Almost,” I responded with a warm smile. “Have you met a Jedi before?”

He nodded. “General Shaak Ti helped train us on Kamino. Without her belief in us, me and my batchers would never have succeeded.” He clearly had a lot of respect for her, and it made me smile to see.

“Of course. I have only met Master Ti a few times but she seems very wise.” Our conversation came to an end as we quickly climbed up closer to the outpost.

“Look sharp, rookies. As long as those tweezers occupy this post, our home planet of Kamino is at risk.”

“But there’s so many of them.” Echo’s nervous comment made me smile. They really were shinies.

“Doesn’t matter, kid. We have to retake this base, so we will retake this base!”

“And how do you propose we get through those blast doors, Rex, old boy?” Cody turned to look at Rex.

“I have a few ideas.”

He didn’t share his idea until we took out all the droids on the platform, me taking care of the stragglers before they could call for backup or notify anyone to our presence. But his brilliant idea was… well I could see how him and Skywalker got along, or perhaps they had spent too much time together because his idea was a very poor plan I could see Skywalker coming up with.

“This is never gonna work.” Cody sighed from beside me, making me chuckle and nod in agreement.

“I mean I could’ve just sliced it open with my lightsaber but I figured I’d let him have his fun.” I commented as we watched the captain faking taking off his helmet and holding up a decapitated droid head up in its place.

To our collective surprise, the blast doors opened, his plan succeeding. These droids might’ve had tougher armour than the standard B-One but they certainly weren’t much smarter. “Clones!” One called out in surprise, far too late, unfortunately for them.

“Roger, roger.” The captain responded coolly, shooting at it before we all jumped out and dismantled the rest of the droids. “Right, let’s move.”

“Permission to take point, sir?” Hevy asked, no doubt excited to be seeing some action.

“I’malways first, kid.” Rex responded, making me grin.

We were able to overtake the base quickly, Fives and Echo making me laugh as they argued over who got the kill on a droid. “Sorry Echo, that one really was Fives.” I gave him an apologetic smile.

“Get to the window. It looks like we have more visitors.” Commander Cody pointed out at the sky.

“It looks like a Separatist fleet.” I frowned at the sight above us. This was not good.

“That’s why they commandeered this outpost. They’re mounting a full-scale invasion,” Rex stated.

“Can we get a message out?” I asked.

“No good, they’re jamming all other communication and they’ve hardwired the all-clear signal. It’ll take too long to fix. And we’ve got company.” Rex pointed to the shuttle full of droid reinforcements that was making its way to us.

“Well buddy, you always said you wanted to be on the front lines.” Fives nudged Hevy lightly.

“We can’t protect the outpost long against that army of clankers.” Hevy said, turning to look at Rex.

“Then we’ll destroy the outpost instead.” My brows raised at this idea. It certainly wasn’t orthodox but it would cut off the all clear signal, which would capture our fleet’s attention.

Rex quickly got everyone on board with the idea and Echo came up with a solution on how we would manage to destroy the base itself, a plan quickly coming together. He really is a great leader, I thought to myself as I watched Rex divide the men into teams.

“Are you alright to go with Hevy and the boys to hold off the clankers, give us more time?” The captain asked me, fully aware that while he was in charge, I was above him in rank.

I nodded. “Of course, captain. Don’t worry about me.” I gave him a little smile as I followed after Hevy to the building’s entrance.

“Reinforcements reporting. Open up.”

Hevy opened the blast doors, blaster canon at the ready. “Didn’t say please.” He quipped, opening fire on the droids.

I laughed as I dove in front of him, deflecting bullets to cover him and taking out as many droids as I could reach. Many more took their place and I cursed at General Grievous in my mind, there was no doubt that he was behind this. “Just some routine inspections, they said, just to pick up some standard procedure. Yeah right.” I muttered, swatting away battle droids with my lightsaber as I grumbled to myself.

“Time to go commander!” Hevy called to me. I nodded at him and quickly jogged inside, still deflecting laser bolts back at the enemy. Quickly the blast doors sealed behind me and we made our way back to the command centre.

“Rex, time’s wasting.” Cody called out as we entered.

“Almost ready. The handset isn’t linked up with the detonator. Hevy.”

“Yes, sir?”

“This detonator isn’t working.” Rex said, handing it over to him.

“I’ll take care of it. It’ll be fixed in no time. You guys get out of here.”

“Just make it fast. Those droids are getting close.” Rex opened the ventilation shaft, gesturing for me to enter it first.

“I’ll wait, I’ll go last,” I opposed.

“Please commander, we’ll be right behind you. Besides, if you get hurt on my watch, the General won’t let me hear the end of it.” He made me laugh lightly.

“Fine then. Hurry up, all of you.” I quickly made my way through the tunnels, exiting and trying to find a good vantage point to watch the sky from.

The rest of the team was right behind me, and Rex looked up at the base. “Hevy, hit the – where’s Hevy?” I quickly turned at his words, noting that Hevy was indeed missing.

“He must still be trying to fix the detonator!” I quickly turned back and tried to make my way up the slope we had just come from, the rest of the team trying to get a hold of Hevy. He just needed to wait, I would be right there. Before I could clamber back into the ventilation shaft someone yanked me back by the arm, holding me back.

I watched in horror as the base exploded before me, debris flying everywhere, flames erupting from the pipes in front of me, nearly reaching my face.

I stared into the flames for several moments, face blank, before turning and walking away, the arm that had held me back finally letting go. How many lives now? How many lives had been given to save my own?

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose, the smell of smoke and scorched metal filling my nostrils. Trust in the will of the force, I repeated the line to myself. Quieting my mind, I turned back to the group, putting a reassuring hand on Echo’s shoulder as he looked up at the flaming base. “Hevy always did hate that place.”

Our own fleet appeared in the sky momentarily, clearly getting the message that something was wrong, and gunships quickly appeared to pick us up. Suffice it to say I was more than eager to get off that rock.

“So, what have you learned from your trip, Nim?” Master Skywalker asked as I joined him in the hangar bay.

“That you and your captain deserve each other.” I joked with a grin, earning a laugh from Anakin and a look from the helmeted captain himself.

“I’ll take that as a complement.” Anakin responded.

“You should.”

***

After a small ceremony indicting Fives and Echo into the Five Hundred and First and awarding them on their bravery and success, there was a small informal celebration in the mess hall. We had staved off an invasion on Kamino, and we had two new recruits, so there was some celebration to be had. However, I knew Fives and Echo had the recent events still in their minds, and someone else who was nowhere to be found.

Making my way back to the hangar bay I found the captain sitting in a corner on a workbench, helmet on the floor in front of him. I came to a stop before him, unsure if my company was welcome or unwanted. Several moments passed before he spoke.

"I should've stayed behind and made sure they all got out. I should've known he'd try something stupidly heroic." His head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor hollowly.

I sighed, sitting down on the bench beside him, staring ahead as I fell into my own thoughts. "It's not easy, when I think about all the people who have given their lives to save me. So many soldiers on the battlefield, like Hevy, like my Master," My voice broke at the mention of my old Master. Talking about him still brought up so much pain, and so many memories I tried to forget. "Some days I feel like I wasn't worth it."

"And other days?" He looked to me questioningly.

"I realize that it was never about me." I said, giving him a small smile. He nodded at me, considering my words. "When those people give their lives, it is because they are selfless. It is because they want to save lives so desperately they are willing to sacrifice anything. In that moment they are not thinking about me, and whether or not I am worth it. They are only thinking about saving anyone they can." I let myself speak my thoughts aloud, needing this conversation as much as he did.

"We should do our best to live well. To honour their sacrifice."

I looked at him thoughtfully, drawn to his dark golden orbs that held such meaning. What had those eyes seen? What emotion did they harbour? What knowledge did they hold?

I resisted the urge to sigh wistfully as I looked into his eyes, wishing I could know what they hid. "And so we shall." I gave a small smile and stood up, gesturing towards where the others were. "Now let's go celebrate the newest additions to the five hundred and first."

[holylulusworld]

Duty of an alpha

Summary: Steve tries anything to prove he’s a good alpha - will it be enough?

Request: I had two requests one for a royal AU in modern times and an Alpha Steve so I combined those two as I didn’t get a specific description.

Pairing: King!(Alpha) Steve Rogers x Queen!(Omega) Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Alexander Pierce

Warnings: angst, ABO, ABO Dynamics, light smut, unprotected sex, mating, scenting, hurt & comfort, cuddling & snuggling, implied claiming, age gap (Steve is around 32; the reader 25)

A/N: This is a royal AU, but it’s set in modern times. It’s also an ABO setting so head the warnings. 

A/N: Requested sequel to: Duty of an Omega

Steve hangs his head low, even let out a low whine as you refused to come to his bedroom and prefer to hide in your old room. No matter what the alpha tried over the last weeks – you reject him.

Not letting him get close to you, especially not touch you is your way to keep the alpha rejecting you since you got married away. You don’t do it to hurt him, simply to protect yourself from getting hurt even more.

How shall you know Steve doesn’t play a game to lull you into safety only to hit you where it hurts the most later? Not claiming you were cruel enough. 

Everyone in his kingdom could see you are still unclaimed even after months of being married to their king. Everyone assumed something must be wrong with you if their king refuses to claim you as his omega.

“Omega…” Steve leans against the doorframe of your room, watches you hide in the furthest corner, snuggled in a blanket to fight the coldness in your bones. “Please come to our room.”

“Your room.” Correcting his words, you do not meet his eyes. “I was only allowed to come there to satisfy your needs. You are not in rut, so leave me be.”

“Doll, please…” His voice is low, and you can hear hopelessness behind his words. “I need you.”

“No, you don’t need a…What did you call me?” Finally meeting Steve’s gaze you can see the bags under his eyes and the sadness on his features. “Useless waste of air.”

“I didn’t mean it. Back then I thought you were with Stark, my archenemy for years. Before we…” Grinning cheekily Steve steps further into the room. “Before I knotted you for the first time, I believed you had sex with Tony Stark.”

“I was innocent.” Mumbling the words, you downcast your eyes, too ashamed of the memories. “You were like an animal.”

“I am sorry, doll. Your scent drove me crazy and I had to feast on you…” Your cheeks heat up and you giggle as you remember the noises you made for your husband.

“I loved every moment but then I remembered your father told me you are in love with Tony, that you want him.”

“That man is not my father. He may have had an affair with my mother or rather he came to town, seduced my mom, and left her after getting to know he got her pregnant.”

Voice bitter you glance at the heavy ring at your finger. “I don’t think he’s able to love anything else than his money and reputation.”

“Darling…please…” Steve steps closer and you get a whiff of his scent. He smells different, almost sad – if that makes sense at all. “I am missing you. I need you, Y/N. Please give me a chance, omega.”

“Why should I believe a single word? The man calling himself my father used nice words every time he wanted me to do something. In the end, everything he told me was one big lie. He used me to get a foot into your kingdom.” 

Taking another step, or in Steve’s case a mile as it feels to him like you are miles away even if it’s only a few steps, he gently touches your shoulder.

“I will bring you to our room and you can rest there, omega. I don’t want to force you into anything but I am still your husband and I must insist that you…fuck…” Steve tries to find something in his pocket and you glance at his shaking hands when he gets a piece of paper out.

“There…we are married, and you are my queen.” Steve clears his throat while he reads the speech Bucky helped him write. “I love you and you are my mate…I can’t read that line…fuck Bucky and his bad handwriting. Does this look to you like fuck or luck?”

Glancing at the piece of paper you need to hold back a chuckle as Bucky drew a penis and testicle or something that looks like a duck next to one of the lines he wrote. “According to the picture he drew I would say fuck, but it could be a duck too…”

“Duck?” Blinking Steve looks at the piece of paper again. “This doesn’t make sense. Why should I want to have a duck?”

“I don’t know.” Shrugging you try to figure out what Bucky wanted to say but his handwriting is awful, and you can’t read a single word. “Maybe he believes you are kinky?”

“I am not…” Flustered Steve looks at the piece of paper before he crumbles it to drop it to the floor.

“What I wanted to say before Bucky messed up and wrote duck or fuck is that I want you to come to our room.” Steve looks down at your trembling form, not knowing how to seduce you to come with him. “You can bring your books too.”

“I don’t know why I should come with you, Steve. You always avoided being close to me except for the times you wanted to…” Sighs leave your husband's lips and you can see his patience slowly wears thin.

“Woman, let me just…” He runs his fingers through his hair, even purrs a few times before he picks you up in bridal style to carry you out of your room. “I’ll kidnap you in that case.”

“That’s not like a king should act!” Scolding your husband, you run your fingers along his mating gland. 

“No. It’s more the style of an alpha who wants his omega in his room, on his bed. I want to scent you and I want you to scent me.” 

Placed onto the bed, tugged into Steve’s side you are forced to feel the heat coming out of his body. His scent is intoxication and if not for your anger and disappointment, you would give in to your instinct.

“Darling, please listen to me for a moment.” Taking a deep breath Steve buries his face into your neck. “Since I laid my eyes on you for the first time and got a whiff of your scent, I am in love with you.

I am sorry for disappointing you in any way. I failed you as your husband, king, and even worse – I failed you as your alpha.”

“…”

“You could at least say a word. I know you are used to your father being an awful alpha and I am sorry I didn’t act better than him out of stubbornness I hurt you and I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life for doing so.” Sniffling you rest your head against Steve’s shoulder to inhale his scent deeply.

“My mom always dreamed that my father comes back but he never even called. When she got sick, I heard her talking to someone. I heard the words responsibility and daughter. 

I think she called my father to tell him that she will not live much longer. My mom tried to make him see that he can’t abandon me after her death. Sometimes I wish she would’ve never called that man.”

Steve gently strokes your hair when you tell him about your mothers’ illness, the way she slowly faded away every day more and that one day you came home from school and your mother was gone.

“The next day that man came and took me with him. I couldn’t even cry as he yelled every time I mentioned my mom. I had to hide her picture as he would’ve burned it, Steve. I hate him. 

I don’t think I ever hated someone, but I do hate my father.” With watery eyes, you look up at Steve. “Does this make me a bad person?”

“No, doll. This makes you human. A person can only bend to a certain point before she or he breaks. What your father did to you was inhuman and cruel. I wish I could kill him.” Humming you nuzzle your face into Steve’s chest and his heart starts beating faster.

“I always dreamed of having a father. My mom didn’t want to talk about him so I imagined how he would be but I didn’t imagine a cold-hearted man.” Closing your eyes you wrap your arms around Steve. 

“I wanted a tall and strong alpha who bursts through the door, a big smile on his face, and to hold me in his arms when I need him. Once I tried to call him daddy and he slapped me across my face. I had to stay in my room for a week and after that, I stayed there most of the time.”

“I should kill him.” Steve grits his teeth, imagining you all alone in your room. “When he dares to come here again, he’s dead…”

“Please…don’t. He’s not worth it. I learned to ignore his anger, hatred, and hurtful words. When you took me with you, it was the best day of my life but then…” Sniffling you hide your face in Steve’s chest. 

“I am so sorry, omega. I promise, no I swear to be a better man, husband, and mate from now on. I can be that alpha to you if you want me to…” Steve whispers but you are already fast asleep when he kisses your hair. “I’ll be that alpha for you, Y/N. Promised.”

“I have a business to discuss with your master.” Your father yells at Bucky, but the man doesn’t even flinch.

Face stoic, hands tucked to his sides Steve’s best friend and ‘bodyguard’ watches your father pace in front of Steve’s office. “He can’t let me wait! I gave him my daughter.”

“You didn’t give me anything, Alexander. As far as I remember you were happy to get rid of the daughter you never wanted. Now lower your voice, my mate is still asleep.” Steve grits his teeth, even clench his fists and Bucky finally sets his body into motion.

Playing the buffer between your father and his best friend again he locks eyes with Steve.

“Steve, calm. King Alexander came here to discuss business. He is no harm to your wife and mate. You know me by heart and if he even dares to get close to Y/N, he will not like my answer.”

Bucky turns his attention toward your father, a cold smile on his lips. “We all agree that no one wants to see the winter soldier resurface.”

Bucky’s words let your father falls silent. He’s sweating now, even whines when Bucky puffs his chest. “I will guard your room and make sure our ‘fine’ guest stays away from your queen, my king.”

“Good, do that, Bucky. If Y/N is looking for me, tell her we will dine together, later. I don’t want her to meet this man.” Spatting the words Steve guides your father into his office. “Sit and tell me what you want. Let’s get this over with.”

“According to my information, you did not claim my daughter. Therefore I came here to ask you to return her to me. I am sure I will find something to pay you back for your inconvenience, King Steven.” The vein at Steve’s neck starts pulsing and he grits his teeth hard enough to make your father flinch.

“I think I must mishear. Did you just ask me to give you my mate as if she’s a doll you can snatch away from me!”

Chest puffed; eyes dark blue now Steve steps closer to your father to glare at the smaller alpha. “Y/N is my queen, my mate. If you repeat your words, I’ll rip your tongue out and feed my dogs with it.”

“I got an offer from an ally. Brock Rumlow finds a liking in my daughter and would like to get to know her better.”

A grin on his face your father shrugs as Steve tries to not lose his temper but the words leaving your father mouth let the alpha take over.

A split-second later Steve has one large palm wrapped tightly around your father’s throat. “I’ll kill you! This is my mate!” Out of control, Steve slams your father's head into the wall and only your voice calling his name let him stop.

“Omega…” A deep purr leaves Steve’s lips and he drops your father to the floor. “Mine. My omega.”

“Steve?” He’s by your side moments later and you find yourself pinned to the wall with his hips pressing into yours and his face in your neck. “Alpha?”

“You’re mine! He can’t have you. No one can take you away from me, doll. You are my queen.” Steve whines low and you need to pat his head to calm the angry alpha. “Don’t leave me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Steve. Bucky said you may need my help to remain calm.” Humming Steve grabs your waist to pick you up.

“Bucky kick this piece of shit out. If he ever tries to get close to my wife, kill him.” Bucky smirks when Steve carries you out of the room.

When Steve is gone Bucky helps your father up. “So…last warning. You will never contact your daughter again or I will come for you…”

“Alpha…” Bodies grind against each other. Lips melt into kisses. “Omega.”

Steve groans with every touch you allow him. Tonight, he let you take control, let you be on top to give you the feeling of ruling your husband's body, and you do.

Every time you rock your hips, he grips your ass tighter to guide your body. Steve is determined to make you feel pleasure, and his love at the same time.

“Steve…please…” Your lips find his again and you shudder when he moves his hands up to your back to press your body closer to his. “I want you…”

“I’ve got you, doll. Just let me…” His lips seal around one nipple and you whine when he suckles hard at the pebbled nub. “I’ll always take care of you…”

“Always?” He’s slowly taking over control, thrusts upward to hit the spot making you cry out his name. “Always, Y/N…”

“Do you lie comfortably? Shall I move us again?” While Steve holds you tightly against his warm body, he can’t take his eyes off the mark he left. “You’re even more beautiful with my mark at your neck.”

“Why was that man here?” Voice trembling you lean closer to your husband. “Steve?”

“There is nothing to be worried about, doll. I will make sure that Alexander Pierce will never be able to get close to you again. Whatever he came for, it’s too late.” Steve presses his lips against your claiming mark, but you won’t give up that easily.

“I want to know, Steve. You promised over the last weeks that you’ll never lie to me again. I need to know why he was here, alpha.” Turning in Steve’s embrace you lock eyes with your alpha. “Tell me now…”

Steve sighs deeply but he promised to be honest, so he tells you what your father told him hours ago.

“Did you only claim me to be sure father can’t take me away from you?” Your stomach tightens and your eyes fill with tears.

“No, god no, Y/N. It what I wanted to do for so long. When you touched me hours ago I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted it to be more romantic but I…shit…the alpha won. He wanted to claim, mark and mate you. I couldn’t stop him…”

Eyes focused on Steve’s features you move your fingers through his hair to fist it harshly.

“If you lied to me. If you only claimed me to mark your territory, I’ll castrate you in your sleep, my king.” Steve growls low in his throat, turned on by your behavior.

“I swear that I claimed you out of love and that I’ll fulfill my duty as your alpha as best as I can from now on…”

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[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - HOME (15/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

A/N:  Can you believe it? This story is COMPLETE, which feels surreal and ethereal in unexplainable ways. I've literally been writing this story longer than it took me to write my masters' thesis -- though, needing to write my masters' thesis is most of the reason it has taken me this long. Thank you all for sticking around through it all, if you've been here since the beginning -- and if you've hopped on somewhere along the way, you're just as important to me. Thank you, all. Enjoy the last chapter.

Start from the Beginning // Also on AO3!

For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Emma can feel the beating of her heart in her stomach and fears that something has gone wrong, attempting to use her unhoned magic  for too big a task too quickly. 

And then, she feels her feet shift on uneven ground and she dares to open her eyes. 

Sand. 

They're on the shore. Everyone is on the shore, Belle still tending to Will's wounded shoulder and Mary Margaret comforting David, his pain obvious on his face. Killian releases her hand, rushing to the prince's side with his canteen at the ready. The water doesn't heal David as quickly as it did Killian, but as he swallows the few sips he was given, his expression grows relieved and the tendrils of poison retract across his exposed chest before disappearing from the site of the wound. It's not nearly as climactic as Killian's healing was (Emma refuses to think about why that might be) but she still feels a weight lifted from her chest as all traces of the poison disappear, leaving only a small cut on his side where the arrow nicked him. 

Killian and Mary Margaret simultaneously sigh an audible breath of relief, her petite form almost comically small as she leans into Killian's shoulder. 

"Let's get off this bloody island," Killian says, allowing only a moment's pause before he helps Dave to his feet — though his words are practically forgotten as the forest begins to groan and grumble, trees snapping, cracking, falling to the ground behind them. 

And they watch as four, five, six boys move through the treeline, all dressed in rags and covered in dirt. 

"The Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, rushing towards them. 

"Please take us home with you, Wendy," the one who looks to be the oldest begs, terror obvious on his face, as on all of their faces. 

She turns to look at David. "Without Pan's magic, the island will disappear, and the boys will die." 

David shakes his head. "I have no argument."

"What about what Pan told your brothers? That only the amount who arrived can leave?" Regina's voice is heavy with worry. None of them want to leave the boys behind, but if it means that no one will make it home, it's a much heavier question. 

But Belle is the one to answer. "With Pan defeated, the island holds no power. Even if it wanted to stop us from leaving, it is no longer able." 

The oldest boy knits his eyebrows. "Does that mean—" he starts, but is silenced by a deafening thump as another large tree hits the ground, this one not far from the shore and sending a tremor under their feet. 

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian says with a smile, gesturing for the boys to lead the way to the waterline and aboard the ship. 

"Rufio, where's Felix?" Wendy asks, walking beside the oldest of the boys. 

But the boy shakes his head. "He's always been the most dedicated to Pan and here longer than the rest of us, you know that. He said he would rather die here with Neverland than become a traitor." 

"Oh, Felix," she breathes, but it does not keep her or the other boys from boarding. 

As the rest of them move towards the ship, Emma moves to stand beside Killian, who is waiting to go last as the captain does. He pats Robin on the shoulder, the pain of losing Graham sinking in once more as his body is carried onto the ship. “Take him below decks. Merlin can show you where to find what you’ll need to wrap him.” Robin just nods. 

"We did it, Swan," he breathes, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "How do you feel?" 

"It's almost surreal," she replies, lifting his hand so she can look at his arm. She still barely believes it, would not have believed the way the water healed him if she hadn't seen it herself — and she still had trouble understanding how easily he was healed by her magic, even after learning of their connection, their destiny. 

She still doesn't want to believe it, really. Everyone is so sure that it's about them, that they were prophesied ages ago to go on this journey, to save each other. She's not denying their connection, not anymore, but she still struggles to believe that they were destined to be together because some ancient seer decided it was supposed to be so. 

"Let's go home," he says finally, gesturing for Emma to follow Robin and Regina onto the Jolly Roger. 

Home. He's not even sure where home is anymore. For years, it was in the Northern Mountains, then with Dave and his band of followers after returning from Neverland. He's been ready for a new home for a while, he realizes, following Emma onto his ship. With her, he hopes. Hell, he's never wanted anything as much as he has wanted to be with her. They're destined to be together, but all he wants to do is kiss her, find all the things that make her happy and never stop giving them to her. He wants to wake up beside her, learn the way her golden waves look in the morning sun, the way she takes her coffee. If it means working beside her in the hospital, doing everything he can to help her while hopefully keeping them from harm — hell, he'll work in a maternity hospital. For her. He would do anything for her. 

They leave the island behind quickly, the Lost Boys, Wendy, and a fully-healed Will watching it crumble, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a cloud of dirt that covers the horizon. 

Killian doesn't turn back. Some of the others peer over their shoulders but Killian seems to be the only one fully content leaving the island behind without a second thought — but, then again, he is the only one among them to have experienced it twice, to have it take multiple people he loves from him, even if it brought others together. 

He thinks of Graham, being prepared belowdecks for burial at sea once they're out of the wretched Neverland waters; he thinks of Milah, who sacrificed so much, who hid her true identity from a world she felt so unsafe in, gone forever in the pile of rubble and debris. 

Liam. He thinks of his brother, releasing the helm to feel the large ring hanging from his neck between his fingers. He left Liam behind in Neverland twice, never able to give him the burial at sea he always wanted. Well, he thinks, turning his head to glance behind him, if the entire island crumbles into the sea, then Liam is finally laid to rest as he would have wanted. 

"I was wondering if you were ever going to look back," Merlin says from the spot he has found against the railing, only using the basest of his powers to move the ship along the waters until they take to the sky. 

"I wasn't going to," he confesses, looking down at the ring once more. "But then I thought of Liam, and the burial at sea he deserved and never got." 

"Well, the whole damned island got a burial at sea, and that sure as hell included him." 

Killian nods, managing a smile. "That's what I thought, too." 

 They travel along the water for a few hours, pausing around dusk to bid their final farewells to Graham before taking to the sky. The sun sinks below the horizon, and Killian turns to the same star charts they used on the journey there to guide them home, though this time Emma takes part in all of it: helping Merlin and Belle fly the ship, learning the stars that they use to guide them back to the Northern Mountains. He has always felt at peace behind the helm of this ship, even when it was his brother's; having Emma beside him, his chest pressed against her back as he points over her shoulder towards the stars, is the most at home he has ever felt, and he wishes — on the stars that guide them home, on any good luck charm he has ever known, praying to the gods who have seemed to answer him a lot lately — that it's not a feeling that disappears. 

The journey back isn’t as celebratory as expected from a group of people who have evaded what they all believed would be certain death. David and Mary Margaret spend most of the trip in the lieutenant’s quarters, Mary Margaret finding the sleep that evaded her the last few days, the two of them taking turns caring for the other. Merlin and Belle spend the return trip just as they did the journey there, guiding the ship through the air, though when Emma is feeling at her strongest, she attempts to assist them. (The rest of the crew does not fail to notice how Will spends much of his time sitting against the railing near wherever Belle has stationed herself, eating what seems to be a never ending supply of apples and chocolate and other types of random snacks and reading the books spread across his lap, even though he was never known to be a voracious reader before.) Similarly, after being comforted by her after Graham’s burial, Robin and Regina spend most of their time together, a pairing of sensible pantsuits and olive green attire that none of them saw coming. 

Wendy and the Lost Boys spend most of their time gaping at the views over the railing, trying their hardest not to get airsick to avoid ridicule, filling their stomachs with each of Merlin and Belle’s smorgasbords as if they have never seen that much food in their life — Killian doesn’t let himself think about how long they may have been in Neverland, just how long it has been since their last decent meal, and he is happy to be the one to offer it to them. 

"What are we going to do with them?" Mary Margaret asks Emma one night as she sits with her on the deck, picking at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in her lap. 

"With who?" 

She points to the boys, throwing small rocks and food scraps off the deck of the ship and laughing as they disappear into the clouds below them. 

"I guess we're going to—" she starts, but then realizes that she has no idea how to finish the sentence and leans closer to her friend. "What are we going to do with them?" 

It's a thought that never even crossed her mind. She's been so worried about returning to the life she had, possibly even learning to include Killian in the chaos of running the hospital, that she never stopped to think about the people whose lives have been upended because of their trip. Who knows how long the boys have been stuck on Neverland, how long it has been since they were taken from their families — if they ever had them in the first place. Emma remembers the long nights on the streets of the Gale when she wished she were anywhere else,praying to whichever of the gods was listening to give her a place to belong. That's what Pan did for these boys in his own wretched way, she realizes. 

“Who knows how long they were stuck on that island. I doubt many of them have thought about what they would do if they ever returned.” 

But Emma shakes her head, remembering the nights she stared up at the stars and wondered what her life could be like if she were in any other situation. “I can assure you that some of them have thought about it.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to be that soft, to make the hurt so apparent in her words. She tries not to play the orphan card, especially around Mary Margaret, whose empathy is so strong Emma sometimes thinks she fully understands the heartbreak she tries her hardest to hide even though she only recently lost her father and sees her mother as often as her and David’s schedule allows. 

Mary Margaret just nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I suppose we could start by talking to them.” 

Emma can’t help but laugh, thinking of how she would have responded in their place — which, she supposes, is exactly what David did, granting her a new life in the infirmary. She wonders if any of them have discovered their powers, or if they would simply hide, dormant, for the years they spend without aging in Neverland. “We should wait until morning, though,” she comments, watching as one of the younger boys lets out a big yawn across the deck. When she turns back to Mary Margaret, she is stifling a yawn of her own. “Looks like it’s your bedtime, too,” she adds with a soft laugh. 

“I’m just so tired all the time. Is this all that pregnancy is?” 

“I have no firsthand experience to share, but from what I’ve heard, yeah, that’s a big part of it.” 

“Someday, Emma,” Mary Margaret comments, and it’s a thought that hits her like a truck. Sure, she’s spent years in the maternity hospital, helping other women bring babies into this world, but having one of her own was never a thought that crossed her mind. Is that what she wants? Could she even bring a child into a world so full of violence and terror and the exact things they’ve been battling for the last few weeks, not to mention the War that has affected every facet of the world for longer than anyone can remember. 

It’s at least not a thought that she needs to focus on right now. 

“Hey, love,” Killian says, thankfully pulling her out of the depths of her own mind as he approaches them from across the deck. “We’re going to begin the descent back to the water soon. Just wanted to let you know.” 

“Thanks, Killian,” she replies, offering him a soft smile, which he answers with a soft kiss to her cheek. 

“I’m going to bed, then,” Mary Margaret says, one hand on her stomach as she reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand with the other, then moves across the deck to the stairs. 

“I can’t wait to be on the water again,” Killian says after a moment of silence, leaning back against the railing, and she steps into his arms. 

“Why is that?” 

“There’s just something calming about it, something that’s not there in the sky or even on the land. The moment the hull hits the water, I just feel… peace.” She hums, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not just the ocean, either, though. Graham always laughed at me when I would go stand in the rain, or sometimes stay in the shower for longer than I meant to.” 

Emma leans back to look up at him, gears turning in her head. Rain. Showers. The ocean. The way his body reacted to the pool on Dead Man’s Peak. Water. “Killian,” she whispers, then cups her hand between them, creating a small pool of water in her palm. “Can you… move this?” 

He looks first at her, then at her hands, his dark brows furrowed low on his forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, love.” 

“Was your mother one of the merfolk?” 

This makes his eyebrows jump towards his hairline, bright eyes wide. “Pardon?” 

“Your mother,” she repeats. “I know she passed when you were young, but what do you know about her? Was she a mermaid?” 

“No. No, that’s… that’s crazy,” he whispers, staring down at the water in her palm, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the deck between his worn boots. 

“Can you just try? For me?” Remembering how her magic reacted to his touch, she reaches her free hand out and rests it on his hip. 

He nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “What do I need to do?” 

“Think about what you want it to do. Close your eyes. Feel it.” 

“What do I want it to do?” 

With a soft chuckle, she turns her eyes up to his, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just… anything.” 

He nods, but stays silent, holding up his hand in the space between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, Emma can feel what he’s thinking, imagines the small sphere of water rising above her hand before it happens — but then it’s there, right before her eyes, hovering above her palm. 

"Bloody hell," he mumbles, his eyes darting to meet hers for a moment instead of staring at the sphere. "And you're… this isn't you?" 

"No," she whispers, picturing it falling back to her hand just to make sure — but it stays there, hovering a few inches above her palm. 

“Of the merfolk,” he whispers, the sphere splashing back down into Emma’s hands. “I never even imagined.” 

“I’ve known for a very long time,” Merlin quips from behind them, his eyes closed but obviously paying attention to them. 

“For real? And you never thought to tell me?” 

He shrugs. “It was not my secret to share.” 

“Why did I not learn about  it sooner?”

Emma gasps, pulling Killian’s gaze back to her, and Merlin laughs, finally opening his eyes. “So you figured it out, then?” 

“The Prophecy,” she whispers, barely believing the words as she says them. “Their strengths will finally be revealed. That’s the line, right?” 

Merlin nods. 

“Not just my strength, but both of ours. He needed… me. Us.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that fits a little too well, that makes it hard to deny that they are the ones from the prophecy, brought together by destiny. A chill runs down her spine as Killian’s jaw drops, realizing exactly what her words meant. 

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. “I need… sorry, love,” he mumbles, backing away from her to go and stand by himself, looking out over the moonlit water as the ship makes its descent. 

Emma’s heart drops and she crosses her arms, leaning back until her hips hit the railing behind her. Is it too much for him, now? The man that confessed his love for her in a cave, who has believed in their connection since the first he heard of it? She understands needing space — she would be a hypocrite if she claimed she didn’t — but she still feels a heaviness in her chest, and icy pain in her heart as she thinks of the worst-case scenario: Killian turning away from her just as she realizes she is ready to be with him. When she feels her lip quiver, she pulls it up between her teeth, turning her back to where Killian is standing and taking a few steps away from him. Part of her wants to disappear belowdecks, curl up in her hammock and hide from her feelings, as alone as she has ever been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to take herself somewhere else: counting the supplies in the basement of her hospital, walking along the well-known trails by her house — the very house that she dreamt of sharing with Killian not too long ago. She shakes that thought away and tries again, this time in the palace gardens where she learned most of what she knows about plants, about healing. Then she’s in the hallway, aiding David in a meeting with his advisors, focusing on the echoing of her boots on the stone floors and not the fears running through her mind.

Across the deck, Killian turns to look at her, trying to organize the thoughts jumbled in his brain. A merfolk. He has learned so much over the last few weeks, about the world, his friends, his enemies — himself, more than anything else. He has tasted death and felt true grief, witnessed unexplainable things, traveled to places he has spent more than a decade trying to forget. Every step was harder than the previous, pushing himself harder and farther than he thought he was capable — and for every step, she has been there, healing him inside and out, stitching together his wounds and piecing together the remains of his broken heart. Why is this so difficult for him to grasp, given all of the other impossible things he has witnessed since Emma Swan entered his life? Water has always calmed him, healed him, given him a sanctuary in times when he had no others, the same way Emma became his sanctuary. 

He loves her, he realizes, not for the first time, though the thought still threatens to knock him off his feet. He loves her in ways he never knew were possible, more than he ever imagined being able to love someone, loves her in a way that fills the deepest parts of him, dark spaces that hold his regrets and his fears and the few things he has allowed himself to dream about. And there is nothing, no feeling that can compare to the warmth that washes over him when she holds his hand, when she smiles at him. His mind separated the two, his powers and his love for Emma, but he realizes now, in this moment, turning away from the water to find her, that they are not two separate things. His powers only exist because of his love for her, and though the time they have spent together is only the first drop in the ocean of the rest of their lives, he wants to look back on his life overwhelmed by the memories they create together, better because of the other. 

Then, he notices the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sits alone by the railing — alone, exactly where he left her. He crosses quickly, his footsteps hard against the wooden planks, and kneels in front of her, carefully reaching out to brush his fingers against her hand. 

“Emma?” he whispers, but it is not loud enough to break through the wall that has formed around her, protecting her from whatever kind of hurt she feared he was leaving her with. Leaving her, he realizes. That’s what she fears, more than anything else. Is that what she thinks he is doing? “Emma, love, I’m sorry.” This time, his voice is a bit louder, his fingers a bit firmer on her hand, and her eyes open, a runaway tear falling down her cheek. 

“What?” She raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but Killian beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, covering her hand with his once more. “I shouldn’t have — walking away from you like that, it was unfair. I don’t want you to think…” he clears his throat, trying his best to smile at her through his stuttering before starting again. “I’m here, love. With you. That’s not going to change.” 

“Promise?” she whispers, unable to control the quivering of her lip, and he learns more about her with that single word than the rest of their journey. The both have dark pasts, Emma’s even more than his own, and the traumas that they have endured have left pieces of them broken, pieces that may never be fixed, but pieces that perhaps can be soothed, especially when the darkness rears its head. 

None of the words that come to mind are good enough. He nods. Laughs, thankfully answered with a smile of her own. And then leans into her, holding himself up against the railing to keep from crashing into her as he finds her lips with his own. It’s the best promise he can give her, and when she reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, her other hand tightening around the collar of his jacket, he can’t help but laugh against her lips, mumbling the words that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue for the right moment. 

“I love you, Emma,” he says, and she resituates them so they are laying beside each other on the deck, pulling herself into him in ways his previous wounds never would have allowed. 

“I love you,” she repeats with a giggle of her own, her lips finding his again as the ship touches down on the water, lurching against the surface. 

They’re back. The real world — Nephylisis, the Gale, the War. The Wasteland. But they have each other.

Anything is possible. 

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[buckypcrker]

mission as usual // i love y'all 3000 challenge

hi everyone! this is a submission for @pagesoflauren's i love y'all 3000 challenge. i saw this come up on my dash and figured i would do a prompt (or two, maybe). i haven't written anything in quite a bit, and the inspiration may as well have slapped me in the face. here is the link to her original post!

pairing: Clint Barton x James "Bucky" Barnes [WinterHawk]

warnings: hurt/comfort, possible fluff overload, typical canon violence

prompt: "Who did this to you?"

word count: 1.5k

Mission As Usual

After most Avengers missions the tower became chaotic. The brisk footfalls of new agents discussing upcoming missions. Stark's R&D engineers tweaking and updating weapons and transportation vehicles. The medical staff taking care of patients and preparing for those who would be coming from other missions.

You could say that the Avengers were a kind of group who believed in self-sacrifice — even if it was a subconscious effort — and the worst of the bunch had to be one-Clint Barton.

Clint had this streak of consecutive medical visits post-mission going — he was currently weighing in at 62, and that's not counting the various clumsy accidents he gets into in the tower.

But the only problem he truly faced was getting past his mother-hen of a boyfriend. Bucky meant well, truly. He just can't help it when he gets his Sargent voice going and telling Clint to "be more careful".

"He was like this with me when we were kids", Steve had laughed, "glad to see that hasn't changed."

The only difference is Steve Rogers was the most sickly kid in all of Brooklyn, hell, all of New York and Clint was just a huge, self-sacrificing klutz.

Missions with just himself and Natasha were rare nowadays. They hung out all the time in the tower regardless, but there was nothing quite as special when they got to team up against HYDRA or former members of the Red Room.

Half the time that they were out in the field they were back to back watching each other's six. Clint's bow always drawn tight with an arrow and Natasha's batons buzzing in her hands. No one worked quite as in sync as the two of them, well, unless you look at Steve and Sam Wilson.

Their mission this time was tracking down a rogue HYDRA agent who escaped their grasp during their last roll in the mud with the whole team. Seemed simple enough. In, out, get the guy, interrogate, and have time to catch a new episode of The Blacklist.

As most injuries to the Avengers happen, one minute Clint was in a Mexican stand off with the HYDRA agent, Natasha coming up from behind, and the next his face was slammed down onto the asphalt.

His ears were ringing, head throbbing. There's another one, he must've called backup. Clint slowly pushed himself up to his knee, blood trickling down his temple. He flung his head around, seeing his attacker coming back for another blow.

Clint ducked under his leg that was out to kick him and snatched a knife from his boot, swiping at the back of the man's knee. A hiss sounds above him as the agent joins Clint on his knees, slamming his knee hard into his stomach.

All of the air that was in his lungs rushes out, and he's sitting hunched over, suffocating, and trying to regain his breath. "I'm supposed to be watching Nat's six", he thinks.

He finally returns to his feet, wheezing but breathing better than he was. His and Nat's grunts are heard as they continue to fight the HYDRA agents. In due time, Clint knocks out the agent by kneeing him in the head and Nat had apprehended the other.

"Alright Squad Four come in for clean up." Nat says briskly into comms.

Two quinjets land, and suddenly the steps Clint needs to take to get to them seem so impossible. Thankfully, Natasha comes up next to him and helps him to bear his own weight. Bless her and her red head.

A few SHIELD agents rush out of the first quinjet armed and with handcuffs to apprehend the HYDRA agents. The second one that Nat leads him towards has a pilot and a few medical techs to give them a basic once over before Bruce and Dr. Cho can get to them at the tower.

The flight from their mission site to the tower pass by in a total blur. Clint is fading in and out of consciousness, his head is throbbing, and everything hurts.

"Mr. Barton, sorry to interrupt," one of the med techs signs, "your hearing aids were damaged during the fight, Mr. Stark is going to have to make some new ones for you."

"Aw hearing aids, no." Clint says slurred and he knows he's a bit loud due to not being able to hear himself.

Landing at the tower winds up being more of an affair than usual. With Clint's lack of hearing, he had no clue what was happening. Lips were impossible to read as hurried conversations occurred around him.

Of course, Bruce and Dr. Cho tried to gang up on him and force him onto a gurney, hell, at least a wheelchair to wheel him to an exam room. As the sharpshooter does, he makes a big stink with slurred words and glassy eyes.

Natasha had pushed him into a wheelchair anyway.

Clint really just wanted to crawl into a vent and hide until he felt better — and maybe pop a few ibuprofen tablets too. But there he was, post-checkup with Bruce, sitting on the counter in the communal kitchen.

As with most of Clint's now 63 consecutive medical visits, bandaids were on multiple parts of his face. He was also sporting some nice bruises on his stomach and temple where his head had been slammed into the ground.

He looked and felt like he was hit by a truck filled with 17 elephants, and then ran over by a train. Ok, maybe he was getting a bit dramatic now.

Nonetheless, he was sitting with Natasha, Tony, and Peter — this new spider-child that he swears Tony picked up off the street and he has to stop calling him 'Mr. Hawkeye, sir'. His injuries were on full display, only because after having to cut Clint's shirt off to give him that once over Bruce didn't even want to try and get a shirt back on the poor man.

"You know, I know I'm an asshole, but you look like shit, Legolas." Tony snarks as his hands move quickly.

"Thanks, Tony. You are so sweet to get me a glass of water." Clint pulled this master guilt-tripping look that always got to Tony and like their game always goes, the short man retrieved what Clint wanted.

And that sure put a large grin on his face. Ow, it hurt... damn bruises. It also helped when he saw Peter laughing and the shaking of Nat's head as she sipped from a wine glass.

Everything was finally settling down, and as he got sucked into a tough game of Angry Birds on his phone, he was stunned at the sudden movements in his periphery.

Looking up — and completely missing his shot with the bird that was simultaneously a bomb — he saw Bucky rushing at him, pressing into his space between his legs. Words were tumbling out of his mouth but Clint couldn't begin to comprehend them. Too much, too fast.

"Buck, no aids, they broke." Clint signs quickly.

He watches Bucky's face change from concerned and kicked puppy to an angry scowl and back in two seconds. His metal hand reaches to cup Clint's cheek, the archer immediately pressing into his hold.

"Who did this to you?" Bucky signs with his other hand, face serious.

"HYDRA agent. Thought there was one, turns out it was two." Clint sighs in exhaustion.

Clint watches as his boyfriend looks him over, grimacing at the bruising and the bandages covering him. He knows Bucky worries when he goes on missions without having him as a backup, and this just further proved that.

He watches as Bucky turns to Tony and say something, but Clint doesn't bother to try and follow along to the conversation. He looks to Steve and Sam, both dressed in their running gear, the sweat on their brows, and they share a knowing look.

Clint was about to be put on bed arrest by one Bucky Barnes. So much to his plan of hiding out in the vents.

He watches Sam mouth 'Buck, overreacting again', and shakes his head with a fond smile. As much of a pain he was when Clint was hurt, he found it very endearing. At times when Clint had been injured way worse, Bucky had helped him into a warm bath to soothe his aches and pains, massaging his scalp, and rambling to him about his day.

Bucky taps Clint's knee twice, their signal to pay attention so they can see each other signing, he looks up into his steely blue eyes and catches a small smile on his face.

"How many now?" Bucky signs with a smirk.

"63, and counting!"

"Stop that Clint Frances."

"You did not just middle name me."

"Hm, whatcha gon' do about it doll?" Bucky smirks, signing something vaguely inappropriate as their friends had cleared out the room to give them privacy.

"Nothing. Although, I could use some good ole Bucky-bear cuddles." Clint smiled softly, looking at his boyfriend lovingly.

"Of course, I'm always going to take care of you. No matter what."

Even with Bucky's overprotective nature, Clint still couldn't help but blush at the affection from his boyfriend. He knew he still had to face the upcoming Sergeant speech, but in that moment, nothing else really mattered as he sat in Bucky's arms.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

One Minute

*Not my Gif*

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

~Master~

~Harry Potter Master~

Fuck falling in love. They always say don’t fall in love with someone who won’t stick around, but how were you supposed to know how that was until they were gone? Until the only memory you can conjure up of them is the one of their back to you as they leave. It’s not worth the inevitable heartbreak.

You thought you were different, that you finally found a decent man who was kind and thoughtful, caring, strong and who would love you and promise a forever, but you were wrong.

Sirius Black wasn’t any of that.

He was nothing but a liar. One moment lying in bed next to you and whispering sweet promises into your ear and the next, what was he doing? Telling his friends how you meant nothing to him. Just another victim fallen prey to his charm.

You didn’t know who you hated more, Sirius or yourself. You hated Sirius because he was toying with you, stringing you along night after night when in the end you meant nothing to your boyfriend, but hating yourself made more sense. You knew what Sirius did, you knew who he was but you thought you had control of your heart and getting into a relationship with him was your fault.

So much for a happily ever after, right?

You had to end it with him, you didn’t deserve to be in a relationship with someone who would openly tell his friends you meant nothing to him. Sirius wasn’t expecting you to come over the day you did, already having plans with Remus and James in just an hour as he let you inside.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, refusing to look in his eyes. “I don’t plan on staying long.”

He nodded, furrowing his brows for a moment before shrugging. “So why are you here?” Sirius asked and you had to keep yourself from scoffing. Really? That’s what he’s going to say? Not a “stay as long as you want” or “why don’t you spend time with the boys and I tonight?” He asked why you decided to show up at your boyfriend’s house.

“I wanted to talk to you about something I overheard.” You mumbled, refusing to look into his eyes. Sirius didn’t pay attention to your rather odd actions as he moved to the couch. You waited for him to say anything but he wasn’t even acknowledging you. “Sirius.”

“I’m listening! I’m listening! Just go on.” He groaned falling into the couch. He gestured to the spot next to him and you also took it before shaking your head.

“I heard what you told James and Remus the other day.” Sirius wasn’t catching on and you sighed, growing more and more frustrated. “You said our relationship meant nothing to you, that I meant nothing to you.”

Sirius’ face paled slightly as he looked into your stormy eyes, trying to figure out what to say. He said that, he knows he did, he just didn’t know you knew. “You heard that?” he let out a nervous laugh, shifting in his seat as you nodded. Running his tongue across his lip, he tried to explain. “That was nothing! I swear! We had just fought and the boys and I were drinking and-“

“Did you mean it?” you interrupted him.

Sirius let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. “Of course, I didn’t mean it Y/N. Stop overreacting.”

You let your jaw fall open, taken back by his statement. “Overreacting?” you asked and Sirius nodded like it was the simplest thing ever. “Sirius. You said I meant nothing to you. Look, I know you’re not the best with relationships-“

“Really you’re bringing that up?” He interrupted. It was no secret that Sirius was fearful to be in a relationship, self-sabotaging any he’d been in until he and you got together months ago. You thought your relationship was different, but you guessed wrong.

“I know you’re not the best at relationships,” you began again, “but when you’re mad and you’re upset and you’re drunk, your relationship shouldn’t suddenly mean nothing to you. So, I’ll ask you again, did you mean it?”

Sirius was getting angrier now, he knew you were trying to go about this in the nicest way possible, but he didn’t like it. “What if I did?”

You couldn’t breathe until Sirius’ gray eyes met yours, glaring at you before you snapped to reality. “You have one minute.” You mumbled, only making Sirius quirk an irritated brow at you. “One minute to convince me you still love me and that this relationship means something to you.”

He scoffed in denial, believing you to be lying until you looked down at your watch. His mouth opened and he was about to speak, to say anything, but he couldn’t. He stayed silent and each second that passed your heart constricted in your chest.

“You couldn’t say anything?” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes as Sirius avoided looking at you at all costs. Your voice cracked as you spoke. “Not even the words ‘I love you’?” Again, Sirius says nothing, only cementing the end of your relationship. “I can’t do this anymore.” You blurted out, wiping away the tears had you didn’t want to fall. “I’m not- I can’t do this anymore.” Turning towards the door, Sirius was quick to his feet.

“Where are you going?” He finally spoke and you let a hurt laugh.

“Anywhere but here.” You told him, refusing to look at him. “We’re done Sirius.”

Sirius had his own thoughts running through his head. “I knew you’d break my heart!” He yelled at you. “I knew it the moment I gave it to you.”

“You never did!” you yelled back, turning to face him and finally letting your tears free.  “You were too scared to give me it, I never had your heart, Sirius.” Months of dating and Sirius had always been afraid. He was afraid you’d leave one day, just like you were doing now. “I can’t break what wasn’t mine.” You let out another painful laugh, your throat screaming at you as you let out a shaky breath. “You couldn’t even say I love you.”

“Maybe I don’t.” He whispered. “Maybe I don’t love you if you’re just going to leave me.” His words hurt him, the sudden realization of what was happening and what he’s making you believe.

“Sirius…” You covered your mouth, holding a sob before inhaling slowly. “I’m leaving because you don’t. You don’t love me and I can’t-“ your small sob broke your sentence as you tried to be strong, “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me.”

“You broke my heart.”

“No.” you shook your head, trying to smile through your pain. “You broke mine.” Sirius had nothing more to say. His own tears were falling off his cheeks as you turned to the door, opening it before looking over your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you. I’m sorry I was nothing.”

The last memory you left Sirius with was your back to him as you left, both your hearts and relationship broken beyond repair as Sirius collapsed onto the couch, feeling absolutely numb as he went over what just happened in the span of ten minutes. It was his fault. You might’ve been the one who walked away, but he was the one who wouldn’t stick around, always treating your relationship as something disposable. It was his fault you broke up with him and it was his fault both your hearts were broken.

Fuck falling in love.

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[arandompostarchive]

Inure - Ch. 1

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

The man ran through the hall, his footsteps echoing throughout his house. He tried to navigate the dark halls, too scared to turn on lights or stop and think. He turned every so often, hoping your figure wasn’t behind him anymore. But it always was. He was panicking, you could tell. He could feel sweat stick to the inside of his white button down and the creases of the dress pants he had yet to take off.

He tried to avoid the small side tables and expensive foreign vases that lined his hall. He had managed to trip over a few tables though, knocking the glass onto his floor, shattering it. Each time he’d whisper a soft curse. There was glass beneath your shoes that probably cost millions of dollars. You found it funny. Even now, running for his life, money was still at the back of his mind.

He ran into the next room he saw, his office. A closed off space with nowhere to run. He turned around, looking at each wall. You could hear a string of curses fall from his mouth before he turned to you.

His small study still had a lamp on, the room dimly lit with the yellow-tinted light.

“Please, what do you want? Money? I can do that. Hell, I can get you your own house! I’ve got connections. I can find people for you! Other people! Please, don’t.”

Now, most people would feel bad about this. Chasing a man through his own home with certain ill intention. But you had seen his life. You’d seen what he does to people. He’d tear apart families, kidnapping people and selling any drug he could find. His hands were soaked in blood, something you could understand. But while you had killed, you picked your victims well. They were the most guilty people you could find. Murderers, kidnappers, kingpins, anyone who managed to escape justice.

Some called you a serial killer, a term that wasn’t exactly incorrect. Some thought you were a vigilante, which also wasn’t wrong. But no matter what, everyone was silently grateful for everything you did.

You always found a new target. From whispers on the street, other criminals, cops who needed a break, sometimes Nick Fury himself would send you a case file or two. You had seen it all, people with souls blacker than night. And this man was no different.

“I don’t want money, Laurence. You’ve killed innocents. You’ve let people die. You’ve heard them beg for mercy and have granted none. Why would I give you a luxury you haven’t given any of your victims?”

The man stuttered. His eyes darted around, frantically trying to find something. Maybe a weapon or just an idea of how to get out of this mess. He suddenly spoke, his voice shaking and cracking. “Because I have information! There’s this man who’s building some huge weapon. Probably wants to take New York out. He could start wars with this thing, yeah? It’ll kill millions in a heartbeat. I know what he’s got! I know what he’s doing, I’ve met the guy! I’ll tell you everything.” He spoke quickly, hoping to finish before you decided to end him. “But not if I’m dead.”

You scoffed. “Tell me, why on Earth would I accept the pleas of a dead man?” You asked. It was a real question, despite your sarcastic tone.

“I’ve got the info! He was chatting with some friends of mine, gave ‘em a whole file about it.” He reached toward the desk and pulled a file off of it, showing it to you. It read “SPECTR2” on the front in small, black script. Your eyes widened and you grabbed the file from him.

He watched as you read over it and confirmed his theory. He was right. Whoever this man was, he had the real thing.

“Alright, fine.” You said, accepting his offer.

“Oh thank god! I knew you’d be reasonable, you’re all about ‘the greater good’, yeah? I’ll tell you whatever you want, lady.” He said, relief washing over his features.

You smiled. “Yeah.” You held the file at your side. “Thing is, I know all about this project already. I don’t need you.”

The panic quickly spread across his face again and he racked his brain for something else. “C’mon, don’t I get something here?” He said, glancing at the walls to find some kind of weapon.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll make your death quick.” You said, taking out one of your swords. He only had a minute to react before he was already dead. You had gotten used to the sight of death, though it wasn’t your favorite thing, there was something satisfying about knowing you had avenged people in some way.

His blood had already stained the carpet he had surrounding his desk and leaked along the cracks of the wooden floor. You groaned at the thought of cleaning your shoes after this and sat down at his desk chair, looking for any other info on the man starting up Project SPECTR again.

***

“So you want us to team up with some psycho killer?” Tony said, leaning back in his usual chair. The meeting room was packed, each member of the team, and some newer additions, crowded together at one table with Steve stationed at the front.

“She has information, Tony. She says lives are in danger.” Tony looked at him ridiculously.

“I’ve got my share of psycho’s on this team and now we’re working with another?” Tony gestured to Bucky and Loki’s side of the table. He got a glare from Nat and he only shrugged his shoulders in response. “Her terms are insane! She wants immunity for every crime she’s done or ever will do. That doesn’t sound insane to you? What if she’s got some master plan and we won’t be able to arrest her for it?”

Nat looked between Steve and Tony. It was obvious they weren’t getting anywhere.

“She’s got info we need. If she wanted to enact some ‘master plan’ she’d just use whatever death machine she’s got, not tell us about it. If she’s serious, we’ll hold up our end. If she’s messing with us, we won’t and we’ll lock her up on site. But if she’s really found plans for what could be the world’s next terrorist attack, we at least need to see her proof.”

Tony looked to Nat, “She’s basically holding the world hostage! Either she gets to do whatever the fuck she wants or everyone dies. We’re really letting that slide?”

This time Steve spoke, though he glared at Tony a bit for his cursing. “I didn’t say I liked it. She’s put us in a tough situation. And Nat’s right. If she’s lying in any way, we’ll lock her up. We’ve got to living lie detectors at this table.” He gestured to Loki on one side of the table and Wanda on the other. Tony only rolled his eyes, silently accepting the argument.

“Are we sure about this? I mean, if she’s telling the truth, then we’ve got some sociopath with a death ray somewhere. But what if she’s lying? She’ll be in the compound. Even if we can lock her up, what if we aren’t able to before she accomplishes whatever task she’s trying to?” Sam said as soon as the room had quieted a bit. A few team members nodded along, considering the possibility.

“We have to take that risk.” Steve said.

***

You strode into the Avengers’ compound, appreciating the space. It was larger than what you were used to. You had jumped from house to house, staying away from law enforcement. If all went well though, you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

There were a few Avengers there to greet you. You had recognized them from the news and you were interested in seeing Natasha here. Among them, you saw Tony Stark. You’d recognize him a mile away. He looked different from his father, though he had the same sarcastic look on his face. You considered punching him now, maybe giving him a serious injury. But, sadly, there really were lives at stake.

Captain America stepped closer to you, holding out his hand. You took it hesitantly, the gloves of your suit meeting his hands. You appreciated the hood of your outfit now with the light reflecting off of windows and into your eyes. It was at least a little bit of protection.

“Specter. Good to meet you. I’m Captain Rogers, just call me Steve.” The other Avengers stepped to his side, making you slightly uncomfortable with how close they were. You couldn’t show it though. You had to be steeled, show no fear. Especially since you were in the lion’s den.

“This is Natasha, Tony, and Thor. We’ve got a meeting room just this way.” He got straight to business and began leading you away. You were careful to let the four Avengers go in front of you, and you were certain at least Natasha had noticed this action. Tony kept glancing back to you, slightly nervous. You could accept that. You felt nervous too, though you had gotten good at concealing your nerves, even before you had ‘died’.

You entered the room which had all of the other Avengers in it as well as five empty chairs. You were seated at the end, directly next to Natasha. Steve settled himself in the end chair right next to you. You looked at the rest of the group who were all doing a terrible job of pretending not to stare at you.

“Alright, Specter. Should we call you Specter?” You nodded, letting Steve continue. “Your conditions are questionable to say the least. We need to figure out if you’re actually telling the truth about this weapon first.”

“That’s fine,” you began, “I’d do the same.” You opened up your file, noting how there was a small camera above you, casting a picture of the file onto a board at the front of the room. You smiled at the innovation, curious about how exactly it worked. It had been a while since you’d gotten to appreciate technology, and where better than the home of a Stark.

“This is a real file. I worked on this project years ago. It was meant to help heal people. Stitch them back together, even when they were on the brink of death. But it malfunctioned. I can tell you this is real. Check any references you like, though it’ll be hard to get your hands on. We never made digital copies, this is our original paper.”

Tony squinted at the paper, seeming confused by it.

“And by we, you mean…?” Another man trailed off. You recognized him as Hawkeye, though you hadn’t memorized their actual names.

“Me and Howard Stark. We worked on it back during the war, it was like our pet project.” Tony seemed less confused now.

“That was over half a century ago. How exactly are you standing here?” You sighed at Hawkeye’s question.

“It’s a rather long and annoying story. Let’s keep it simple and say I’ve effectively scared off death.”

“Guys,” Tony said, still looking at the projection of the file. The room turned to him and you were thankful for whatever subject change he had to offer. “I’d love to say she’s full of it, but I know my father’s handwriting. That’s his signature too at the bottom.” As he pointed the small camera zoomed in. You’d have to ask him about the technology’s design later. Assuming this actually went well. You slightly cringed at the thought of speaking to a Stark again, but you’d manage for the sake of a new discovery. “Hey, Friday?”

“Yes Boss?”

You heard a woman’s voice in the room that didn’t belong to anyone present. You quickly figured out it was an AI system Stark had made.

“How well does that match Howard’s handwriting?”

There was a beat of silence before the AI, Friday, spoke again.

“It’s a perfect match.”

The team didn’t seem to know if that was good or bad.

“So there’s really someone set on ending humanity?” A man said across the table. You remembered his moniker being something bird themed, like Hawkeye’s, but it wasn’t coming to you.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be anywhere near this place unless absolutely necessary,” You said. The Captain glanced around the table and the group seemed to silently make their decision.

“Alright. We’ll meet your terms, but understand that you must stay here through his whole process. No ‘missions’ of your own.” You thought over his offer. It was slightly tempting. Though you’d miss your little hunt for criminals, it would be nice to have a house for longer than a week.

“Fine. But you can’t bind my powers or spy on me or some bullshit.” The Captain nodded, agreeing.

Suddenly, you were a temporary Avenger.

***

“I don’t like her. She’s too calm. We’re facing a giant death machine and she’s completely stone faced.” You could overhear the conversation from where you stood outside the Avengers common area. Natasha had offered to show you around and you had denied, instead accepting a map and list of locations you’d be interested in.

They were sitting around in a circle of couches, all facing each other. Some of the members seemed distracted. Like one with long hair who was slowly stroking the spine of a book he carried in his hands and another with a striking metal arm. You had to admit, the team was certainly good-looking.

You continued to listen to the conversation, though you had lost a bit of the argument when you retreated into your thoughts.

“What can we do? I’m hardly happy about this, but she’s holding the world hostage, like you said. Millions might die if he didn’t have that info.”

“And what, we’re trusting a serial killer? She’s murdered who know’s how many people and we’re supposed to just sit here and fucking sing Kumbaya?!” Tony said. You could see his point. You wouldn’t trust you either.

“Many of us have killed.” Loki said, offering some perspective and hoping someone else would continue his point. He was still on ‘house-arrest’ and was hardly considered trustworthy. Stark wouldn’t listen no matter how silver his tongue was. But the others seemed to at least consider his words with the exception of Hawkeye who seemed upset that he even had to hear Loki’s voice.

“He’s right Stark. I’d hardly say my hands are clear, but here I am.” Natasha added, taking up Loki’s silent offer to continue his argument.

“I’m not okay with this. She’s absolutely mental. I can’t find anything on her besides media speculation. SHIELD didn’t have anything on her, despite the fact that she’s a well-known criminal and she’s got no history. No names attached, nothing. Just media speculation which is all made up. I checked.”

You took this time to walk out from the hall, the click of your shoes making the group look up. “It’s because you have the spelling wrong.” The entire team looked nervous at being caught. “Don’t feel bad. Of course you’d talk about me, I’m a stranger in your midst.” That seemed to calm some of them down, though they still looked wary of you. Stark was the first to speak.

“We’ve got the spelling wrong?” He asked.

“I’d expect so. You’re spelling my name as ‘Specter’, a ghost, like the media does. Try S-P-E-C-T-R, you’ll find a little more.” You before turning and walking out of the room. While you weren’t excited about opening up your backstory, it’d make this whole ‘trust’ thing a lot quicker. And if you were going to get anywhere, there’d need to be some sort of trust.

***

Project SPECTR - August, 1940

Howard Stark and Dr. Y/n L/n began SPECTR in August of 1940 and have been working on it for three years now.

It’s expected to help Allies win the war, though Dr. L/n believes it could— and should— be used for other purposes. There have been several malfunctions so far and I am unsure how they will continue. Stark has been promoting the idea among generals and strategists, despite the lack of finished product. Dr. L/n suspects it will not be finished by the time Stark suggests, in two weeks. She has told various generals not to expect anything in two weeks, though all generals seem to unfortunately favor Stark’s estimates. They plan to run a test run in one week and fully activate the machine. Both Stark and Dr. L/n hope it will be completely stable for at least ten minutes.

There was a messy signature at the bottom, though Steve identified it quickly as ‘Margaret Carter’.

They read through a few other files, and learned more about the original project. Reportedly, there was a severe malfunction, resulting in Dr. L/n’s death. Peggy had shut down the project immediately after, despite Howard’s begging that it would still work. There had apparently been a rift in their friendship over Dr. L/n’s death.

It also said that the Doctor’s body had disappeared in 1992, only weeks after Howard’s death, which had sparked a few conspiracy theories for those aware of her connection to Stark and Carter, two famous names. She was a leading scientist and was making seriously impressive strides. Stark was disappointed she had died so soon. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would’ve done.

“Is that Specter?” Sam asked about the Doctor working on the project. Though the team seemed unsure of the answer, Steve responded.

“It must be. Why else would she draw our attention to this. She’s got personal experience with whoever is trying to restart the project, though I’m not entirely certain why a machine to heal people will be turned into a new weapon.”

The team tossed theories back and forth and you listened in, smiling when a few of them guessed right. You slipped away soon after though, heading down the hall to the training room.

[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Ch.1

Star Wars x Marvel crossover

A/N- Ayye so first chapter! I’m excited and nervous, but overall glad of how this turned out. I hope you guys like the chapter and let me know what you thought!!

Warning- talks of death, angst, fluff, light swearing. :(

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged)

———

It had been two years since The Resistance beat the evil First Order and Emperor Palpatine. Six months since the galaxy had finally come to a peace agreement, turning into a new great republic. Three months since Rey began building her new Jedi academy with your help and the help of your friends and...General Poe Dameron.

You weren’t a Jedi like Rey, or had a famous family name like her and Dameron, neither were you special in a sense that you bravely left the once First Order like your best friend Finn, but you were special in your own way, you made yourself known throughout the years of hard work. A once moisture farmer turned General, it took years to get to where you were and you were proud...and yet you felt like something was missing, like their was something else you needed to do in life. Perhaps that’s why you were helping Rey out, to finally complete that missing piece.

“Just a couple more months and the academy is going to be ready. All our hard work finally paid off.” Finn beamed as he overlooked the unfinished building from a green hill in Ahch-To.

You playfully shoved his shoulder with yours, “Okay well, Jedi Master if you don’t get back to work it’s never going to be finished.” Instead of moving along he sits on the grass.

Finn shakes his head, “I’m not a Jedi Master. Yet.”

“Oh so you’ve decided to live your life in celibacy, Jedi Master?” Dameron jokes as he joins Finn on the grass.

Finn fakes a laugh and uses the force to push Dameron to the ground, which said man only laughs off as he sits up once again. You roll your eyes and attempt to leave but Poe comments as he watches you leave, “Leaving so soon, sweetheart.”

“The sight of you just makes me want to punch you in the face.” You retort with a feigned smile. Poe chuckles and just flashes a grin. A grin that makes you scoff, and want to....well punch him in the face.

Poe Dameron and you had always been competitive against each other..maybe you more than him, but it’s all the same. He’s always gotten everything he’s wanted, his title of Captain, his title of Commander and then his title of General. All without barely even trying, just him and his stupid perfect smile. All while you had to bust your ass hour after hour. It wasn’t fair. You only tolerated him now because of Finn, Rey and Chewbacca.

And as if you had summoned them with your thoughts Rey and Chewbacca joined too, leaving the work that was supposed to be done, completely abandoned. You would have left if it weren’t for Chewbacca picking you up and sitting you down next to Finn.

“It’s not going to be like that anymore. Rey is making a new order. Different from the ones before.” Finn informed his friend. “But let’s not talk about that now, overall I think we’re working fine, all things considered.” Finn eyes shift from Dameron and you before sharing a look with Rey.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You quirk your eyebrow, making Finn instantly regret what he had said.

“Just, well...” Finn shrugs, his eyes flickering to Rey and Chewbacca for help, but receiving none, “Poe and you are always arguing about stupid things, you know.”

“I don’t start it.” Dameron argues, “it’s always princess here that likes to start—”

Your lips part and quickly you snap back, “Oh please! You’re the one that likes things too perfect, nothing is ever good—”

“No, that’s not true—”

Chewbacca roars loudly, cutting off whatever it was the General was going to say. As a response you let out an irritated huff before crossing your arms over your chest.

“See what you started, Finn.” Rey says cheekily. Finn only shakes his head and wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you to his side. You’re stubborn at first to ease into his hold, but ultimately do it, resting your head on his shoulder and making him smile.

“Better?” Finn whispers.

You roll your eyes in a lighthearted way and answer in the same whisper, “No.” But that’s also where you’re unaware of Dameron’s lingering gaze on you, one he forces away so you wouldn’t catch him.

“Pushing all that aside,” Rey begins, “I’m grateful for all of you helping me out with this. I know that without you guys none of this would happen, so thank you.”

You smile and nod, “what is a family for? We’re here every step of the way.”

Chewbacca roars in agreement, while BB8 chirps happily at her side. Rey’s grin widens and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Y/N’s right, we’re family, we’re here every step of the way.” Dameron agreed.

“They’re agreeing with each-other,” Finn pointed out happily, “that’s when you know it’s true.”

You scoff and push Finn to side playfully, and just as he was going to return the action he went stiff, his smile dropping completely and his eyes desperately looking around as he held onto his chest.

“Finn, are you okay?” You questioned him as your own smile began to slowly disappear.

Rey noticed Finn’s strange behavior and also called to him, her eyebrows knotted in confusion, “Finn? What’s—” then she too went rigid, cutting herself off as her eyes expressed a mix of panicked emotions. She tried to stand up, but she quickly began to lose balance and would’ve fallen if Chewbacca hadn’t caught her in time. “Some-something’s wrong.” She muttered.

Finn tried to play it off like it was nothing and pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet.

Dameron stood up too and extended his hand to help Finn, but said man only waved off his help, “I’m okay..it’s just—I got dizzy.”

Quickly you stood up to your full height and looked desperately between Finn and Rey who looked anything but fine. Carefully you approached Finn in perfect time to catch him as his legs gave out. “Finn what’s wrong?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I-I don’t know, I feel...” His breathing began to get heavy and panicked, “it’s—”

Finns words were cut off as Chewbacca called out in a low panicked growl. Dameron, Finn and you looked to him and saw as his arms were beginning to vanish, turning into dust and dropping Rey to the ground.

“Chewie?!” You screeched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked to his vanishing bottom half, whilst he roared out in confusion and fear. Dameron ran to him in attempts to help whatever it was that was happening, but as he reached the Wookiee his hands reached thin air as he vanished into nothing but dust in front of your eyes.

“Chewie?!” Rey sobbed.

“What-what the hell?!” Dameron questioned.

You stood frozen in place, unable to react to what had happened and only letting tears roll down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

Quickly you turned your head to Finn as he called out to you in a low voice. He looked to you and then down to his hands as he too started turning to dust.

“Finn! Buddy, what—No!” Dameron called as he ran to his friends side.

“No, no, no, no.” You kept repeating as you held onto him with a firm hold, like if doing that would help him from vanishing. Finn then fell to the ground, taking you down with him, his arms no longer around you as they vanished. He began to hyperventilate, looking between you and his other friends for help, tears rolling down his cheeks as he was utterly confused on what was happening. He said no words and just looked to you as he too vanished into nothing but dust, causing you to completely drop on the grass as the hold you had on him was gone.

In that moment of desperation you looked up to Dameron, but before either of you could comment, BB8 began to chirp frantically making you both turn to see Rey vanishing too. Instantly you rushed to her side, letting her take your hand as she cried quietly, her attempts to remain brave failing as her bottom half was vanishing.

“Stay strong, okay?” She whispered, as she held onto your hand tighter, her eyes turning to Dameron and smiling slightly like she had done with you, “the both of you.” Rey then looked up to the sky as the rest of her turned to dust.

Slowly you looked away from where she had been, letting out a shaky breath as your mind still couldn’t process what had happened. You had no answers, just questions, confusion and grief.

“Poe?” You quietly called out. He slowly pulled his gaze to you, both of you sharing the same lost and sad expression. “Wh-what happened?”

Poe shook his head, “I don’t know.”

—

The number of people missing throughout the galaxy was still unidentified, in fact their wasn’t anything The New Council knew for what had happened. People only have been running in and out of the briefing room since, Dameron and you came back to the capital. All of them like you still baffled, grief stricken and in-denial to the sudden vanishing.

The only thing you did know was that droids didn’t vanish, just all living forms, so at least you still had your astro-mech droid R2-D2. Besides that everyone you were really close with was gone, just turned to dust in front of you...well all except for Poe Dameron. He was here and you hated to think of such a thought but...you wished he had vanished instead of Finn. Were you horrible to think of such a thing? Yes. Yes you were, but he, well he just had a way to get on your nerves.

“Any new data on the vanished?” Commander Zuko asked you, making all eyes land on you as they waited for an answer, an answer you still didn’t have. One by the lack of reports and two, well your attention was not in this room, but on the image of your best friends vanishing in front of you. “General L/N. Reports.”

You snap your attention to the commander across from you, your eyes still red from the crying; “I-I don’t know.” You stammer.

“How do you not know? You’re a general and in charge of—”

“Commander Zuko, y/n..General L/N is obviously not in the right head space for any of this, take it easy.” Dameron quickly interrupted the commander, “neither of us are. What happened, was-was an unexpected tragedy.”

Commander Zuko shook his head, “A tragedy we need to figure out. Was it the First Order? Are they back again?”

Their had been more members on the council, like Finn for example, other people you liked and tolerated, but after this you were left with Commander Zuko, an officer two years older than you, and one of the the only remaining members that lived after the republic was killed years ago. He was a tall good looking man, with the darkest hair and dark eyes to match, but also with no patience at all. Which is why you didn’t tolerate him. You were left with the two people you didn’t. Yay...

“It’s not the first order.” You comment, “they’ve destroyed planets yes, but they wanted to take over the galaxy and the people. Not this.”

“Then could it be? Palpatine? The dark side?” Dameron questioned.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” You shrug. Commander Zuko stood from his chair and walked to the transipersteel, quietly standing there as he watched the sunset. Beautiful and vibrant. Orange, red and yellow hues, that basked your face and showed the long expression your face expressed, the planet showing a beauty that gave off a calming and happy energy that no one felt. The sight made you want to cry again, and you would have if Lieutenant Connix hadn’t walked in.

“We’ve found something!” She exclaimed as she set down a datapad on the table. “Crazy energy readings found that happened at the same time everyone vanished.” Commander Zuko slowly made his way beside her, stroking his chin as a map popped up.

“Where is that? It’s not any star charts or a system we know.” Dameron wondered as he slowly pushed himself off his chair.

You focused your gaze on the map and the planets orbiting surrounding the one sun, finding it unrecognizable.

“Yeah that’s what we figured out, but all the energy came from that single planet.” Lieutenant Connix pointed to the small planet and enhanced the view. “Whatever happened here is because of that single planet.”

“one planet.” Commander Zuko mused, “it’s so small.”

“And it seems to be the only inhabitable planet according to the readings.” Dameron pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter.” You start, feeling a new sense of confidence as you pulled your eyes off the holomap and focused on the people around the table, “however small the planet is, we’re going. We need answers for what they did.”

“And if the confrontation leads to war?” Dameron queried.

“Then so be it.” You respond sharply, “they killed my friends. My family. And everyone in our galaxy, so if it leads to war then they will have a war.”

Commander Zuko smirked and turned to you, “yes, General L/N is right, our galaxy has suffered long enough. We will get justice.”

“Their is still Final Order fleets that are intact.” Lieutenant Connix added with a hint of a smile, “we can use those.”

Dameron turned to meet your gaze and nodded in agreement, “we’re doing this for them. For the galaxy.”

You smiled softly, finally agreeing to something he said.

“For the galaxy.” You all repeated.

—

The silence of hyperspace was deafening, filled with tension that basked every fleet not just yours. No one talked and if someone did it was to pass instructions or information, everyone was too badly affected by what happened to do anything. You were surprised people even volunteered to a potential war, those who didn’t were tired of fighting, or just not in the headspace after watching people vanish before them.

Why were you doing it? For the family you lost...Finn, Rey and Chewbacca, to get justice for them and well it beat being in a galaxy without them, and it beat being alone with your trauma.

The sound of rolling droids pulled your attention off the blue and white view of the passing stars of hyperspace, to see artoo and BB8. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Hi boys, having fun?” You question with a forced smile. Artoo answers with complaining beeping, also making BB8 do the same. “We’re almost there. So that means no more long flying, promise.”

Artoo does a sound that mimics a long sigh before moving by your side, while BB8 pulls out something he was hiding...a black metal object.

Rey’s lightsaber.

You take it from the little droid and examine the weapon, sadness once again presenting itself within you. You continue by pulling your gaze back down to the droid and patting its head. “You’re right, it’s good you brought. It wouldn’t be safe if you left it behind, people get desperate in times like these. Who knows who could’ve taken it.”

BB8 responds by chirping sadly at the thought of his lost friend.

“Yeah, I miss her too.” You sigh, placing the lightsaber hilt on the table next to you as you hear approaching footsteps that belonged to Poe Dameron. You meet his gaze for a second before focusing it back on the view of hyperspace.

“We’re almost there. It’s time to prepare your squadron.” He informed you as he took a seat next you.

You responded with a shake of your head before sighing, “my squadron is all gone, I’m the only one left. I can’t be red leader without any pilots.”

Dameron hesitated, not knowing how to answer your upsetting response. “Uh well...ever since snap died I’ve been needing a black two. You can fill the spot if you want.”

“And be your second?” You grumble, “no thanks.”

Dameron rolled his eyes but decided not to shoot back with a snarky remark, and instead chose to be gentle with his words, “look I just don’t want you staying here in the ship when you can be down there facing some action. And well I don’t think I know a good negotiator as good as you, you’re good with people. We need that if we want to know what’s wrong.”

“You can do it, General Organa always preferred you for that stuff. She said I had a temper.” You responded dryly, with no emotion or usual amount of spunk that Poe Dameron was used to hearing.

All he heard was a broken person, that was also something rare to hear from you, even after being tortured by the first order you didn’t sound like this. But it was expected, after all you did see the people you cared about vanish in front of you. Rey, Chewie and...Finn...whatever he meant to you, Poe didn’t know, all he did know was that you two could mean more than friends to each-other or...meant. But Poe saw that all happen too and he didn’t—well if he was being honest he wasn’t okay either, but he didn’t show it in front of everyone like you did, no, you just didn’t care anymore, not like before.

Again that was expected, but all he wanted to hear was your usual need for action, the encouragement and determination, the usual and not needed competitive attitude you had towards him. But sadly none of that was showing...but he was going to try and make you feel that again.

Dameron sighed and quickly stood to his feet, walking to face you with determination, “you can still keep your title, no black two or any of that. I just need you to fly with me. I’ve known you for years now and I don’t trust anyone else but you. So be in command with me, let’s get these answers and justice for our friends, okay?”

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, showing a watery gaze, no smile but nodding in agreement nonetheless; “fine.”

—

“No shields, space stations, fleets or protective objects of any kind. Just...” you narrow your gaze on the floating satellites and scrunch your nose, “just satellites.”

“Yeah are you sure this is the planet?” Jessika Pava questioned curiously through the comms.

“This is it.” Dameron confirmed.

“I’ve got to give it to this planet though, it’s pretty,” Kare kun added as you all saw the mostly water covered planet.

“I guess,” you shrug, “I don’t trust it..” you trail off, “artoo, turn on all cannon blasters. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“We’ve got communication.” Commander Zuko reported in, “sending coordinates to the landing point, god speed pilots and if anything happens report it, we’ll be ready.”

Dameron proceeded to check in, “All pilots ready?”

—

As you landed your x-wing on the ground, you looked up to the sky, remembering once again after two years how intimidating the fleets looked like from the ground. You once fought against them, and now you were using them for a potential war, sounds almost poetic how that turned out to be.

Nonetheless you open the canopy and hop off your fighter, just like everyone else you came here with. Artoo sticks closely to your side and discreetly hands you the weapon from before, Rey’s lightsaber. You don’t even know how to use it, but you still take it l and meet up with the rest of your crew.

Carefully keeping an eye out for the species you’re supposed to be meeting. Theirs no armies of any kind surrounding you or warriors of any kind, just buildings made out of transipersteel, ships on hangers, and green pasture with one sun in the sky. Besides that, no looming threat, in fact they seem to be somewhat civilized, whoever they were.

The sound of artoo’s warning pulls your attention back, and to the location of where the noise of approaching footsteps is heard. Dameron and you meet each other’s gaze, sharing a knowing look that caused you to pull your blasters out and have it ready. For just in case. But once you see the appearance of who the footsteps belonged to, you’re not all threatened or scared, in fact you’re curious.

Theirs only five single people, one who seemed to be a droid and the rest just with weapons on them, but besides that nothing about them was threatening. They were like you, human. Well all except the little animal sentient next to them. Besides that they seemed reasonable. In fact the man leading the group looked the least dangerous of them all. He was tall, blond and handsome—now you hated to think of such a thing in an occasion such as this, but you couldn’t lie to yourself and think he wasn’t.

“Who are you?” The women with short blond hair asked, her just like you seeming to have the same surprised expression you and the rest of your crew had.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Dameron snapped back.

The man in the middle looked to his comrades and back to all of you, before confidently announcing, “we’re...The Avengers.”

.

.

.

A/N- was commanders Zuko’s name inspired from prince Zuko himself? Yes. Yes it was.

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch​​

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​​

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’ Epilogue: Always Be Together

Marvel Highschool! AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 2,943 words

A/N: Well, we’re at the end! Thank you so much to everyone who’s been following this series, as it’s my first fic, and is so special to me. Natasha’s story is also very personal, as I’m still trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I’m bisexual, and they’re kind of closed off to the LGBT+ community and can only hope for what I wrote for Natasha. As always, thank you to my badass beta @transparentfestivaltiger​ and I really hope you’ve enjoyed this journey with me, and that you all continue to stay safe and healthy. Love you <3

When the shelter in place order was lifted from New York, life went by so fast. Jobs slowly started to open up again, people picking up the pieces of their lives that had broken during quarantine. The cure still hadn’t been found yet, but hope still stayed strong within everyone’s heart. It had taken much longer for scientists and doctors to find the curative to the virus, but the day it was announced was one to remember. Happy cheers could be heard everywhere around Brooklyn, tears rushing down everyone’s faces, for those who had previously lost their loved ones to the virus and to new beginnings. The community all came together and they all knew they could be stronger coming out of the worldwide pandemic. 

The rest of high school went by fairly slowly, considering they had spent nearly a whole semester online. Everyone had trouble recovering from the effects of quarantine, but it got easier as they went along. Bucky and Becca both became part of the Rogers family easily, the endless stream of love and happiness radiating them all the time. Mrs. Rogers had been a motherly figure to him all his life, aspects of her reminding him of his own ma, and he was brothers with Steve, which was pretty great in his opinion. 

By the end of high school, Natasha had come out to her parents, which was something both of them tried their hardest to understand. The redhead was shocked when they told her that they should have known and that they were sorry if they had ever made her feel unloved or left out, a reaction she could have only dreamed of. Both of her parents were still trying to understand her and her needs to feel safe and comfortable, and though it wasn’t perfect, Natasha couldn’t be more grateful that her parents were trying. 

Throughout the rest of high school, the “Golden Boy Trio”, as the girls liked to call them, continued playing baseball together, all three of them getting scholarships in their junior year. Eventually, Sam was the only one who accepted his scholarship, as the two other boys had already planned what they wanted for their futures. 

The sweet couple, however, continued to grow together, both as people and a pair, falling deeper and deeper in love with each other every day. Yeah, that was something that was never-ending, no matter the circumstance. Y/N and Bucky went around the school known as the high school sweethearts, the two students who were irrevocably and completely infatuated with each other, and that was obviously fine with them.

By the time the end of their senior year rolled around, Steve was already dead set on joining the U.S. Army, something both of his parents were proud of, though terrified as hell for as well. Wanda and Sam were both headed for sunny California, her wanting to major in psychology and him on a full-ride baseball scholarship to UCLA. Natasha had been offered a chance to study under a fashion designer in France, so she ended up leaving just mere weeks after graduation, bringing lots of tears and promises to talk whenever she could. Bucky and Y/N though, they were staying in their home state of New York, both of them on scholarships to Columbia and NYU. After all, Bucky needed to look after Becca, who was five years old by then but already had an extreme attitude and a tendency to be very, very, clingy. Joseph and Sarah Rogers loved her even more for that.

Bucky and Y/N’s dorms weren’t far from each other, and they were happy that their relationship wasn’t long-distance. Study dates at coffee shops became frequent, and their love for each other only growing. Around their junior year of college, the couple was already having talks about getting married soon after their graduation. Both of them were planning on continuing for their masters at their respective schools, but after nearly six years of their relationship, they both knew that they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives. 

Kids had thoroughly been discussed though. After taking care of Becca since he was thirteen, he wasn’t rushing to have any of his own any time soon, and he made it clear that he wanted to wait until after college. After all, they hadn’t even graduated yet and still had five more years of their education left before Y/N went off to her internship. 

Oh, how quickly the tables had turned.

Y/N had managed to get pregnant at the very beginning of their final year as undergrads. She had freaked out, not knowing if Bucky would leave her, not knowing how the fuck it had happened, and what she would do with the baby. She had finally decided to keep it a secret for a few weeks, at least until she found out how to tell her boyfriend, but after she started to refuse drinks and get sick more often, Bucky grew suspicious. Now, James Barnes was a smart man. He had remembered when he was a teen and his mama was sick when she was pregnant with Becca, so naturally, he questioned his girlfriend. 

“Are you pregnant, Y/N?” Bucky asked her quietly. He didn’t seem mad, but his tone made it certain that he was dead serious. Taking a shaky breath and trying to hold back her tears for her own sake, she nodded her head and grasped his hands.

“Yes, James.” She sighed. “I’m pregnant. And,” Y/N took a deep breath, “I’m going to keep it.” Silence was all that surrounded the room. Normally, silence with the two of them was soft, it was comfortable, like a blanket of comfort and relaxation. But this was high-strung tension, uncertainty mixed with unsaid awkwardness. Bucky’s heavy sigh was all that was heard, and Y/N let go of his hands as he got up and left the room.

Y/N was in shock. Hand covering her mouth, her strangled sobs echoed back to her throughout the dorm. He’d surely tell her parents. Or would he want to even do anything with her? She was still in school, and she had to go to med school the next year. Her parents would never support this. God, what mess had she gotten herself into?

No more than fifteen minutes later, Bucky broke in through the front door, panting and nearly wheezing with the loss of air he had. However, he saw Y/N’s red, puffy eyes with her clearly wet cheeks and saw where he went wrong.

“I thought -hic- you left, Bucky.” He instantly wrapped his arms around his shaking girlfriend, his eyes filling with tears after realizing that he had hurt her. The one girl that meant the most to him in life, that he loved with his entire heart, and he’d been the one to make her cry.

“Doll, no, no, I promise you, I’m not going to leave you.” Bucky lowered the two of them to a laying down position on the couch, legs intertwined and chests pulled together. “I will never, ever leave you, and we’ll find our way through this together.”

Y/N rubbed at her eyes, relief filling her body at his words until she felt a sharp object poking into her hip. “Buck, what’s in your pocket?”

She noticed the sharp intake of breath he took. She noticed that he was fidgeting with the object in his pocket. She noticed that he was breathing rapidly. She noticed him getting on the floor, kneeling with an open box in his hand.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend. You have been for fourteen goddamn years, and you have seen me everywhere. My highs, my lows, when I was drunk off my ass puking in my bathroom and giving a speech at our high school graduation. You of all people know that I am a very organized person, but trust me, this is the one time you will see me unprepared. But, our lives have always been a little unconventional, haven’t they? We had our first kiss in the middle of a global pandemic because I was too scared to tell you that I liked you anytime in the six years before that. Our first time together was when we were eighteen at the Time Hotel in Times Square and we went in our pajamas to McDonald’s right after. And now we’re going to have a baby. I already know you’re going to be an amazing mother, and there’s no better time to do this than now.” Scooting closer to Y/N, he stared into her eyes, still red-rimmed from the crying, but a huge dopey smile plastered on her face. “I asked your parents for your hand last week and they said yes, so we have their blessing. Y/N L/N, the love of my life, will you please make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically and threw herself into his arms. “Of course I’ll marry you, Bucky.” Bucky was crying at this point but he didn’t even try to wipe them away as he slipped the silver band onto her finger. She grasped his face in her cold hands and kissed him feverishly. “I love you, James.”

Smiling like a fool in love, which he was, he placed one last lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you too, Y/N.” Moving his hand down to her stomach, which hadn’t started showing, he rubbed it soothingly. “And I already love this little one too. How long have you known, baby?”

Y/N covered his hand with her own and let out a watery smile. “Three weeks. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I’m sorry I didn’t earlier.”

“No, no, no, baby, you have nothing to feel sorry for. I can understand why you felt scared, and I’m going to be honest, I am too. But we’ve gotten through so much together, what’s a little human compared to us?” Bucky grinned wider at hearing her sniffly giggle and he sat her on his lap on the wood floor of her NYU dorm.

“So who’s going to be the one to tell my mom and dad that you knocked me up and proposed to me?” His eyes widened and she laughed harder at the expression on his face. Sure, he didn’t want to face the wrath of her parents, but if it made Y/N happy, he’d do it with no hesitation at all.

The pregnancy was difficult during school. Especially because they went to different schools, Y/N struggled with being alone so much that she eventually moved back into her house with her parents. Bucky would always show up once a day when he knew that her courses were done, whether he could only stay a few minutes or the night, and talk to the baby. Though he'd previously said that he didn’t want kids until he was done with college, he’d been nothing but absolutely amazing and protective since finding out Y/N was pregnant. A bit too protective though. 

Three weeks before she was due, which was also right before their graduation, the couple started to get into more and more heated arguments. Bucky insisted that she needed to stay home and do absolutely nothing, but Y/N still had more finals she needed to take at school. Her stress from both hormones and classes got to her, and finally, she talked to her teachers, asking to just make the finals all in one day so she could go home earlier and not wait it out. It took some convincing, but they finally agreed and passed all her finals with flying colors, which made her cry with happiness.

Two days before graduation, little Winnie Sarah Barnes was born. After six hours of pain and screaming, Winnie came into the world happy as a clam. Y/N’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, Becca, and Natasha all came to support the happy couple. Wanda, Sam, and Steve couldn’t join this momentous occasion with them, but all three sent letters and called many, many times to see the precious baby.

The next four years of college went by fast with Winnie in the family. Y/N and Bucky finally got married, something everybody was able to attend. Steve had come back from his first tour by then to be the best man and Natasha as the maid of honor. It was very small, simple but elegant, and the new Barnes couple could not be any happier with how one of the happiest nights of their life went. Y/N graduated NYU at twenty-six with a Doctor of Medicine and applied for an internship at NYU Langone Medical Center while Bucky got offered a job as the creative writing teacher at the high school they went to. “Full circle, huh, baby?” He’d jokingly said to her after he got the email. And a full circle it was indeed.

2033

“Buck, we need to bring him. He really, really doesn’t wanna stay with MJ tonight.” Y/N ran around their shared Brooklyn apartment frantically, her crying son in her arms. Bucky and Y/N’s family was in absolute chaos. Bucky had come back from the high school late, Y/N nearly forgot to pick up Winnie from after school care, and their four-month-old son, Steve, did not want to be taken care of by the babysitter, MJ. Of course, their family was normally in disarray, with Y/N’s shifts at the hospital and Bucky’s demanding students, but tonight was their ten-year high school reunion, and between the four in their family, it was a disaster.

“Mommy, I can hold Stevie, you can go get dressed,” Winnie said in a quiet, sweet voice. Placing a delicate kiss on her head, Y/N thanked her and scurried off to get ready. Bucky was pretty prepared, looking handsome as always in his button-down blue shirt and black slacks, short brown hair combed neatly. “You look nice, daddy.” His daughter said while sitting on the couch next to him. He was about to thank her as she started speaking again, “For once.” 

Crinkling his nose playfully and gasping in mock offense, he took Steve from her arms and tickled her sides, breaking her into peals of giggles. “Do I not look nice all the time, sweetheart? I can’t believe my own baby daughter doesn’t think I’m handsome.” Y/N heard the laughter from the hallway as she headed towards the living room. 

“Well, my beautiful, beautiful husband, I think you look very handsome, like you always do.” Y/N quipped from the entrance. Bucky and Winnie turned their heads towards her, and both of their eyes widened. Letting out a low whistle, her husband’s eyes roamed her body in the appealing red dress and black heels. 

“Damn, hot mama,” Bucky readjusted Steve in his left arm and slid the other one to cheekily squeeze Y/N’s ass, “you look gorgeous.” Even after fourteen years of their relationship, Y/N couldn’t take one compliment, and heated up under her husband’s lustful gaze. 

“Mommy! Mommy! I wanna look pretty too, can I wear your heels later?” Laughing, Y/N picked Winnie up and spun her around quickly before pulling her into a crushing hug. “Ugh, mama, you’re going to break my spine.” 

Both Bucky and Y/N shared confused glances at their daughter’s sudden sass. “Where did you learn to get an attitude like that, missy?” Bucky asked.

“Auntie Becca, she always sasses the boys at her school, she says. She always tells me to ‘screw them over and have some fun with my ladies’.” Y/N nearly wheezed with how hard she was laughing, knowing of fifteen-year-old Becca’s sass. Bucky on the other hand was absolutely appalled that his younger sister was teaching his children these things. 

“Of course your Auntie Becca sasses the boys, she can’t keep her damn mouth shut to save her own life.” Bucky grumbled, making Y/N peck his cheek and grab his hand. 

“I called my mom, she says she and my dad can take the kids tonight, thank God.” Swatting his butt, she scooped Winnie up in her arms and started to make her way to the door. “You two are going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa tonight, does that sound good?” The little girl in her arms nodded excitedly, ready to be spoiled by her grandparents. 

After Bucky and Y/N dropped their kids off at her parent’s house, they rode to their old high school in comfortable silence, just the radio playing Bucky’s old Spotify playlists. 

“We’re going back to the place where we started.” Bucky said all of a sudden. Y/N shifted  in her seat to look at his with a raised eyebrow. 

“We met in third grade, baby, do you not remember that?”

Sighing, he took her hand in his and rubbed small circles on the back of her palm. “Well, I mean where we started. Like in a relationship, when we were sent home for quarantine, when I kissed you in your ma’s kitchen, and I took you on a date to Prospect Park.” Looking into each other’s eyes, the couple smiled. “We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?”

Leaning over to kiss him, short and sweet, she replied, “Yeah, yeah we have.”

Riding the rest of the way in their blissful bubble of happiness, the couple reminisced about their freshman year of high school, all where their quarantine love had started. 

TAGLIST 

@transparentfestivaltiger @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @adorkably

[winterromanov]

AU idea- college athlete Bucky and he’s really popular and all that but very sweet and he meets this girl who’s sweet and a little quiet in one of his classes and he just keeps trying to be around her, study with her, buy her coffee and she likes him but she’s just like.... why is this cute popular boy paying attention to me lol

pairing: bucky x reader (also SUPER tempted to do a part two of this, let me know if you’re interested)

You recognise the guy staring at you from across the table in your Russian lit tutorial. You recognise him because everyone knows Bucky Barnes, the football star, certified big name on campus and best friend of fellow football star Steve Rogers. He’s the guy that every girl on your corridor gossips about, the one all the professors love, the one who gets hundreds of likes on his Instagram pictures.

(You don’t follow him but you have to admit, you’ve scrolled through his feed a few times. Just to see what the fuss is all about, you know. And you know. Boy, you know.)

You’ve never actually interacted with him before because your circles aren’t the kind that usually interlink, but now you’re sat in a seminar on Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Bucky Barnes is definitely staring at you.

When your eyes eventually flicker up from your laptop--just to double check you’re not making it all up, that he’s not looking at the much prettier girl next to you--he grins, pen between his teeth. Your cheeks involuntarily catch fire and you deliberately snap away. Because this is Bucky Barnes you’re talking about, who dated Natasha Romanoff in his freshman year before it all very publically...fell apart. Who could have literally any girl he wanted worshiping at his high-tops. Who would never look at a girl like you because, well. 

You’re you.

-

You’re trying to buy coffee in the campus shop next to the library when he actually speaks to you directly for the first time. Emphasis on the word trying, because you left your damn purse at home and Apple Pay is not being your friend and you can feel yourself getting more and more embarrassed the longer the cashier has to wait. You eventually resort to rummaging round your backpack for loose change in order to pay the poor guy, but an arm with a contactless debit card reaches out and beeps the payment through for you.

“I’ll get a latte to go, please, Mario.” 

“Of course. Anything for you, Mr Barnes.”

It’s Bucky Barnes. Of course it’s Bucky Barnes--only someone like him would take the time to know the server by name. He’s wearing his faded red Columbia jersery and a baseball cap. His grin is kinda crooked and yes, yes you know it’s one of the many reasons all the girls go wild for him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, stepping aside so he can go to the front of the queue. He merely shrugs. “Here--let me pay you back, I know I’ve got a couple of dollars in here somewhere...”

He shakes his head as he taps his card once again, the server handing him his latte in a reusable mug with a wink. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, your idea about interior monologue in Anna Karenina in Ivan’s class the other day actually inspired my paper, so I do owe you one.”

You blink, kinda dumbstruck at the thought of Bucky Barnes remembering any input you’d given in class. Or anyone remembering any input you’d given in class. “You liked my point?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky sips his coffee, grimacing slightly as the liquid burns his lips. “Tolstoy finding humour in death. It’s so dark and beautiful. All your points, actually--you see a lot in literature than I’ve never picked up on in a first reading.”

“I...Uh. Well. Thank you.” You’ve always been quite reserved in class, scared to say anything in case it’s stupid or outlandish and the other students laugh at you. In reality you know it’s you being paranoid, but old habits die hard. 

Bucky looks at his watch before hissing a profanity under his breath. “Gotta run. Cold War study group across campus in three minutes. Catch you later?”

He phrases it like a question rather than a generic add on, a necessity of politeness. His blue eyes look at you expectantly, actively waiting for you to reply.

(They’re so blue, his eyes. Blue like the sky in the summer back home, bright and cloudless and stared at from a meadow.)

“Yeah, of course! See you in class.” You raise your coffee cup sheepishly in his eyeline. “And thanks for the coffee.”

And like that he vanishes, bustling out the door and stepping purposefully in the opposite direction as the sun blazes on his back.

-

You see his backpack before you see him, slammed down on the bench next to you in the lecture hall. He sits down with a long exhale of breath, like he’s ran here--this time he’s dressed in sportswear so you assume he’s been to the gym. Veins ripple and flex up his ridiculously toned arms. Being a football hero probably does that to you.

“Crime and Punishment,” he says, instead of a greeting. “What did you think?”

You smile, spreading your hand across the heavily annotated and dog-eared copy you have in front of you. “Long, dark, often psychologically challenging, but ultimately an interesting perspective on nihilism. And you?”

“Oh.” He nods in faux seriousness. “I thought much the same. Reckon I’d like to go for a beer with Dostoevsky.”

“That would be an interesting encounter.”

Bucky rests his laptop and his copy of the book on the bench and looks as though he might say something else until the professor enters the room, hushing the hall to silence. When the lights dim so you can see the projector, you wonder if Bucky can hear how furiously your heart beats in your chest.

-

After than, some sort of unspoken agreement develops wherein every Russian literature class, his place is a spot next to you. You always seem to arrive first--he’s always rushing from somewhere--but he clocks you and instinctively walks over, sliding into a chair adjacent to your own. The conversation is usually the same. Always about the books.

You’re not sure what any of it means but you’ve somehow found a friend in the famous Bucky Barnes, and people start to notice.

“Since when have you and Bucky been so close?” Wanda Maximoff asks as you queue for the canteen lasagna, the flourescent bar lights doing nothing for the food presentation. “My brother is in your lit class and he says you two sit together a lot.”

You shrug, spooning lasagna onto your plate. “We just sit together.”

“You don’t just sit together with Bucky Barnes, (Y/N). That’s not a thing that happens.”

“Honestly, Wanda, we just talk about books.”

Wanda narrows her eyes, swiping her meal card at the end of the belt. “Sure, okay. I believe you. For now.”

She has to believe you, because you know what she’s insinuating. And when you look across the canteen and see Bucky laughing with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson and his ex girlfriend Natasha Romanoff, you know this cute, handsome boy and his often insightful observations of Russian texts are so far out of your league that it’s kind of embarrassing.

-

so, (y/n). what did you think of the master and margarita?

i think pilate suffering for his sins for two thousand years is pretty rough tbh

but he deserves it?

i mean. probably. his suffering is necessary for the redemption arc

just what i was going to say. obviously.

see you tomorrow :)

-

“Do you want to come to a party?” 

Bucky asks you this as you come out of your seminar on Chekov’s Uncle Vanya and, admittedly, it kind of knocks you off guard. When you lamely blink back at him blankly, he decides to elaborate.

“It’s my friend Sam’s birthday. It’s just at our dorm--should be fun. Although we’re very competitive when it comes to beer pong, so beware.” His smile is wistful but he quickly comes back to earth, falling in step with you as you walk along the hall. “So what do you say? You interested?”

“You’re inviting me to a party?” you reply, as this is a very big step in your friendship. This is assuming he’d happily see you outside of class amongst his equally popular and attractive friends.

“Yeah, I think so,” he laughs bemusedly, pausing at the door that leads to the quad. He has his Cold War class across campus. “(Y/N), I’d really like you to come.”

You look at him and expect him to reveal this--him--as a joke, but he’s earnest and certain and honest, with an almost shy smile on his face. His eyes are hidden by his usual cap but you know the colour of blue so well by now. And not just because you’d zoomed in on his Facebook photo in a moment of ridiculous late-night longing.

(You follow him on Instagram now, too, but only because he followed you first. You were still too uncertain to initiate it, worried that he’d ignore you.)

“Okay,” you say, swallowing nervously. Wondering if this might be a mistake. That you’d turn up and no-one there would like you. “Who else will be there?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll introduce you.” He pauses, chewing his lip for a second, before gesturing at the door. “I’ve got class, so I’ll...I’ll see you later.”

Your hands tighten round the straps of your backpack. “See you later, Bucky.”

-

Bucky shares a floor with Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers at a block about a ten minute walk from your own, and you use the walk in the chill New York air to calm your jangling nerves. You’re wearing your favourite navy blue dress and have braided your hair and made an effort with your makeup--and you’re not totally sure what for, what you’re expecting. You’re just the quiet girl in Bucky Barnes’ literature class. You don’t know how it got to this.

You’re too awkward to press the buzzer so you message Bucky to let him know you’re outside. Scrolling through your Facebook inbox, your messages have become...quite frequent. Especially at night. You lie on your bed and frantically type until the early hours, only realising it’s 3am before it’s too late.

That’s what friends do, right? Friends. 

(God, you’re so fucking in love with him, aren’t you?)

Bucky’s on the edge of a laugh when he answers the door, but his expression falters into muted surprise as soon as he lays eyes on you on his doorstep. A silly gold party hat is positioned at an angle over his head.

“(Y/N),” he says, and you flush, because the way he says your damn name. He steps aside so you can step in under his arm. “I’m glad you came. Finished The Idiot yet?”

“Onto the last fifty pages.” His house is decked out with balloons and paper chains and the loud pumping of a bass stereo carries from the lounge, alongside the chatter of laughing of guests. You recognise Columbia’s only archer and Olympic hopeful Clint Barton rush up the stairs, holding the hand of a brown haired girl. Bucky rolls his eyes at him and yells already? “I think it might be one of my favourites on the module.”

He leads you through to the kitchen which is empty other than various bottles of alcohol on the table and Natasha Romanoff sitting on the counter. Her red hair hangs effortlessly across her shoulders, lips painted scarlet, wearing a classy black jumpsuit. Natasha Romanoff makes you feel nervous because a) she’s the kind of girl you could never be and b) she’s the kind of girl Bucky Barnes dates. She’s sipping rose out of a wine glass, her eyes discretely looking you up and down.

“Is this the famous (Y/N)?” Natasha asks, her tone intrigued, her lips curved. Bucky laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his head. “Honestly, this guy doesn’t stop talking about you.”

“Sorry?” you gape, looking between her and him. Bucky sends Natasha a glare that signals for her to shut up which only makes her more amused by the situation, leaning back casually. “Uh, I don’t know--”

“Ignore her. She’s insatiable.” Bucky quickly swerves, pressing a glass into your hand. “Would you like a drink? We have pretty much everything imaginable. Natasha has plenty of wine she’d love to share.”

Natasha is totally unaffected, already looking at her mobile phone. She flicks a hand at a line of bottles next to the microwave. “Feel free, honey.”

You’re not a big drinker as you don’t often frequent cool college parties and you’ve been drunk a grand total of one time after one too many glasses of champagne on new year’s eve. Bucky seems to see this in your face.

“You don’t have to drink, obviously,” he says kindly, “But if you mix a bit of soda with rose it actually tastes kinda nice. Much better than beer, anyway.”

“Okay,” you nod, letting him mix the drink for you. He’s remarkably careful, pouring the tiniest amount from one of Natasha’s bottles and topping it up with sprite. He grabs a beer for himself, cracking off the lid with his teeth.

“You know you’re not impressive when you do that,” Natasha says drolly, even though she hasn’t looked up from her phone.

“(Y/N) was impressed,” Bucky says with a wink. You try and keep straight-faced but yeah, come on. You were.

“Of course she was impressed,” Natasha interjects, “You’re both stupidly in love with each other but too polite to make a move.”

Bucky flips her off before pressing a gentle hand in the small of your back, ushering you away from her. “She’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

You sip your drink, wondering if your palms will ever stop sweating. Natasha can’t be right. She isn’t right. Or is she? No, she can’t be, because this is Bucky Barnes and you’re you.

-

Bucky’s friends are actually kinda nice. Really nice, in fact. You’ve always been intimidated by Steve Rogers’ reputation on campus but he might be one of the sweetest guys you’ve ever met, instantly welcoming and eager to get you involved with the games he’s beginning to set up. Sam Wilson is bold and blunt, but he grins mischievously and gives Bucky a pointed look when he introduces you and snaps a party hat to your head. In various corners of the apartment you see people you vaguely recognise from school, names burning at the edges of your memory but ultimately escaping you. 

Steve sets up the table for beer pong and Bucky clutches your wrist, beckoning you over to play (and cutting short your conversation with a very interesting business major called Pepper). Steve and Sam are on one side while you and Bucky are apparently on the other--Steve’s positioned himself so he’s directly in view of a British exchange student with big eyes on the other side of the room. 

(Aside from your own, you’re actually pretty observant when it comes to potential romantic encounters.)

“Just so you know,” Sam stares hard at the two of you, pointing with two fingers, “It’s my birthday, so I have to win. It’s the rules.”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” you reply, looking up at Bucky. His expression is warm, his arms desperately close to yours. “I’m probably going to be pretty rubbish at this.”

“Buck’s a good teacher,” Steve says, grabbing a ping-pong ball and handing it over to Sam. He rolls it between his fingers, his face scrunched in mock seriousness. “But we’ve all had plenty of practice.”

“Too much practice, arguably,” Bucky drawls. “And Wilson, don’t you think for one second that (Y/N) and I are going to let you win under any circumstances.”

“I don’t need you to let me win,” Sam says, before perfectly throwing the ball into one of the cups near the front. He stands back smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, as the rest of the room whoops. “I think you’ll find I possess the skills for victory, fair and square.”

You laugh as Bucky rolls his eyes, picking up the plastic cup filled halfway with lukewarm beer. He keeps eye contact as he knocks the whole thing back, wiping his lip emphatically once he’s done. “That’s it. The game is on.”

-

Admittedly, it get’s to a point where it’s pretty close. You almost visibly bristle as Bucky tries to show you the ropes, positioning your hips with his hands and following your aim as you try (and often fail) to pit the ball in one of the opposite team’s plastic cups. Whenever you score he yelps dramatically, high-fiving you, and his grin is borderline magical.

(Natasha watches bemusedly from the sidelines, making dry comments here and there. It’s like she’s checking you out for herself. Assessing you.)

It get’s to the point where there is only one cup left on either side and the tension is palpable. Limbs are floppier from downing liquor, the aim repeatedly more off--your stomach is warm and your feet feel light--and Bucky’s palms ghost your waist as you concentrate on what could be the winning put. Sam and Steve try and distract you by dancing ridiculously to an ABBA track playing out the speakers, but Bucky’s words of encouragement are what filter through. You take a deep breath and throw, only exhaling when your ball lands with a triumphant plop in the central solo cup.

Bucky throws his fist in the air before grabbing you and spinning you round, his laugh ecstatic in your ear. You cling onto his neck, your fingers barely millimeters from entangling in his hair, before he plants you down on the ground again. Well. You think you’re on the ground. You might as well be in the clouds.

“A round of applause for the winning shot,” Bucky says, holding your hand and lifting your arm so you can take your bow (which you do with pleasure). Steve and Sam pretend to be reluctant, but they clap anyway.

“I’ll allow it, this once, (Y/N),” Sam answers bemusedly, coming round to the other side of the table. “But if you try and upstage me on my birthday again there will be consequences.”

You feel more confident now, more like these people are your friends. So you grin, feeling the magnetic pull of Bucky to his side from next to you. “I’ll try not to. Promise.”

Sam hums, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Come on, Barnes. You can go mix me a drink.”

Bucky shrugs, asking if you want anything from the kitchen while he’s on his way there, but you shake your head. You’re happy right now with what you have.

-

Natasha approaches you while you’re waiting outside the bathroom. Someone--you think he’s called Rhodey--emerges and offers you a salute and you’re about to go in, but Natasha grabs your hand and pulls you in with her and locks the door behind you.

You’re so astonished you’re not sure what to say. She brushes the hair away from her neck, back facing you.

“I need someone to unzip me,” she declares like it’s obvious, indicating towards the zipper halfway down her back. “Do you mind?”

“No,” you blink, hand nimbly reaching forward to drag the zipper down her back. Even her back is flawless, like porcelain, a tattoo of what looks like a spider curling up from her waist. “Of course not, no.”

She sits on the toilet unabashedly and doesn’t ask you to look away but of course, you do, because this whole situation feels very strange indeed. The wall is plain and blue and spotted with mildew, probably damp from the shower. Like all student accommodation. It feels weird looking at damp while Natasha Romanoff, beautiful as she is, literally pees behind you.

“I care about Bucky a lot,” she says suddenly, “I’ve known him a long time. Way before college, way before we--dated. I love him, but not in the way you think. And I know what he’s like, what the signs are.”

You shift your feet uncomfortably. “The signs of what?”

She audibly sighs out of frustration. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re both as bad as each other. I know--I know when he’s falling for somebody. You’d think, I know you think, that somebody like him...he’d have no problem with it. And maybe if he cared a little less and felt less intensely he wouldn’t.”

“I’m not sure...”

The toilet flushes. Natasha rises and turns back to you and you dutifully zip her back up while she washes her hands, looking at your reflection in the mirror. When you’re stood side by side like this it really does emphasise the differences between you, but also the similarities. She’s a girl. So are you. Girls, despite what every atom of her being exudes. 

“You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).” She smiles crookedly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Just--treasure him, yeah? He deserves it. I get a feeling you both do.”

She doesn’t look back at you as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

-

Bucky gives you one of his old football jerseys to walk home in because it’s past midnight and you didn’t bring your own. He also insists on walking you home. And you feel nervous, not just because you’re alone with him for the first time this evening, but also because Natasha’s words circle the back of your mind like a tape cassette stuck on loop. You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N).

“Can I ask you something?” you question, arms crossed as your steps echo on the sidewalk. The street is surprisingly deserted--it’s usually crowded with students, all sorts. Tonight, it is quiet.

Bucky looks over at you quizzically, but intrigued. “Yeah. Shoot.”

“Why me?” When he looks perplexed, you laugh awkwardly and continue on. “Connie Taylor is in our Russian lit class, too, and she’s way prettier than me and like...she’s been trying to get you to notice her all semester and yet.” You scrunch your nose as you look up at him, examining his features. His jawline. The hair that falls into his eyes. His naturally flushed cheeks. The party hat he’s yet to take off. Him. Him him him. “You always come to me.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “Connie Taylor seems perfectly nice. But Connie isn’t you. I like you.” You arrive at the door of your block and he pauses, shoes scuffing into the ground. “She’s not prettier than you, or smarter than you, or any of the reasons you’ve inevitably thought in your head as to why you think she’s more deserving of anything than you. And I find it vaguely insulting that because...I don’t know, play football, that I could only be interested in one kind of person.”

You look away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, I know.” He steps closer so that the toes of your shoes are almost touching. His hand searches in the darkness for your own. Squeezing your small fingers between his, scarred and scraped from football practice. “(Y/N), I like you because you’re funny and kind and intelligent. I like it when you message me about books, I like it when you save me a seat in lectures, I like it when you explain every single point you make so everyone in the class can understand it. I like so many things about you, and you need to get it out your head that because you’re not Connie Taylor that this can’t be true.”

“No-one ever notices me, Bucky,” you murmur quietly, “And I don’t say that for sympathy, or whatever. I say that because that’s how it’s always been.”

You both stare into each other and for one agonising, aching moment you think he might let go of your hand, snuff every spark out like a candle. But instead--instead he ducks in, covering your lips in a soft post-midnight kiss, his mouth warm and tasting faintly like beer. He snatches the breath from your lungs.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispers, hands curving round your jaw. You want to close your eyes, remember this feeling forever. Trap it all in a polaroid. “You are so fucking special. Everyone but you can see it, and it’s so frustrating.”

You kiss his palm, letting your lips linger on his skin for a moment longer. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. I had a really great time.”

His smile is faint but there, nonetheless. “I knew you would. I hope this means you’ll be willing to come out with me again sometime.”

“I think I would like that.”

He unravels from you, not before ducking in for one last sweet, beautiful kiss. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“‘Night, Bucky.”

Your hands remain clasped together until he’s far enough away from you, dropping your hand and grinning as he’s eventually lost in darkness. You have to hover for a second with your keycard in your hand, trying to gather your thoughts, process the events of the evening. Bucky Barnes like you. He likes you, not in spite of you, but because you’re you.

When you collapse on your bed you map the constellations of cracks on your ceiling, your heart thumping and your mind almost one hundred percent him.

-

“you and i, it’s as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to Earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.”

y/n. it’s 2am and doctor zhivago is making me cry.

also sam has made me drink sambuca

i wish i was crying over russian books with you

even though ur probably asleep

that’s cool

hope ur having sweet dreams

:)

miss you

-

my masterlist

send me a request

[captain-s-rogers]

Come Back...Be Here

(gif credit to the creator)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Word Count: 1,710 Warnings: none? Song: Come Back...Be Here - Taylor Swift Square Filled: Old Flame AU  A/N: Another square for @marvelfluffbingo​​​​​​​​​ 2020! It’s also the first fic in mine and Nicole’s (@arrowsandmixtapes​) Taylor Swift collab! The first song was Come Back...Be Here. Be sure to read her fic here (the link to her fic will be added once she posts)! You can check out all of our fics for the collab on the master list: here! I’m kind of in love with this one. As always a HUGE thank you to the best bestie around @arrowsandmixtapes​​​​​ for looking over my stuff and making sure it isn’t terrible. Feedback is cool! :)

The headlights from the cars in the New York City traffic cascaded across the walls of your dark bedroom -- illuminating the room in short, quick, bursts -- as you stared at the spinning blades on the fan mounted to your ceiling. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The flame wasn’t supposed to fizzle out and die so quickly when it had ignited instantaneously and burned incredibly bright for weeks. Yet, there you were staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything had ended so wrong for what felt like the thousandth time that week, playing over the last time you saw him over and over again in your mind. 

You were at the airport, your car idling next to you as you leaned against it, his bags on the ground between you. He shifted from foot to foot trying to find the right words to say. The goodbye was long and hard, both of you unsure of what to say. The last few weeks had been so amazing you both hated to leave things so up in the air but there was no certainty in anything with how hectic his life was. He closed the gap between you, kissing you one last time, and promised to call. 

All you could do was nod and hold back the tears as you watched him walk into the airport to catch his flight. You stood there for a few minutes, eyes unmoving from the doors -- hoping against all hope that he would come back through them and back to you, only taken from your reverie by another car honking and a man shouting that you were crowding the drop off line. With a sigh you got back in your car and made your way back to your apartment.

That was the last time you’d heard from him. You tried not to dwell on it but you couldn’t understand why there had been radio silence. Everything had been so good between you that you couldn’t comprehend the complete lack of communication. Not for the first time you grabbed your phone and debated calling him, unlocking the screen. The screen illuminated your face as you stared at the picture of the two of you on your lock screen. With a sigh, knowing it would be useless, you turned your phone off and dropped it back on the bed beside you. 

Dwelling on the ending was fruitless and you knew that but you couldn’t help it. He was all you could think about. You loved him, something you had only realized recently -- you didn’t think it was possible because of the current circumstances -- and try as you might you couldn’t get rid of the feelings, and you almost hated yourself for it. Knowing that sleep wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon you picked up your phone again, this time opening Instagram.

You got comfortable in your bed as you scrolled through your feed. You absentmindedly liked a few of your friend’s photos before stopping and staring at the screen. There he was, standing with some of his co-stars in front of Big Ben. Your finger hovered over the picture as you debated liking it. You stopped yourself and shut the phone off again, tossing it to the side, as you ran your fingers through your hair and rolled back over to your back -- staring at the spinning ceiling fan once again. 

If you had known then what you knew now you would have fought so much harder that last day. You would have protested the end, taken time off work and gone with him -- anything to keep him with you. You hated feeling this way and you hated not being able to do anything about it even more. It was clear, however, that there was nothing that could be done. It was over and even though your heart ached for him you would have to find a way to move past it. 

Chris laid on the comfortable hotel bed, the room completely dark except for the lights from the cars in the city flitting across the walls, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since he walked into the airport that day. Sure, the press tour and being in London had given him a bit of a reprieve during the day, but once he was back in his hotel room -- alone -- his mind was flooded with images of you. He still couldn’t figure out why he had decided to end it with you when he had to leave. He knew his anxiety had played a part in it -- that and the uncertainty that came with his schedule -- but he knew that was a cop-out. He even debated walking back out of the airport that day and going back to you and now he was regretting his decision not to. 

He tried to focus on anything other than you and your time together but he couldn’t. There was nothing he could think about that would take his mind off of you. He thought about going to sleep but he knew that the second he closed his eyes he would be flooded with images of you and memories of your relationship. He sighed, sitting up on the bed, and grabbed the remote for the TV. He turned it on, hoping that he could get lost in whatever movie was on at this time of the night, but once he was greeted with your favorite movie he knew that there was no way he would be able to think of anything but you. Deciding not to turn it off he got himself comfortable and hoped that he could find sleep -- even if his dreams would be nothing but memories of you. 

Chris had never been so nervous in his life. He didn’t know why but from the minute he met you he had butterflies. That hadn’t happened to him with any other woman before and he took that as a good sign -- a sign that maybe he’d finally found the one. When he knocked on your apartment door his hands were shaking so much he was afraid the petals on the flowers he’d bought you would start falling off. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he waited for you to answer the door. Once you finally did, and he saw you standing there -- dressed in a flowing sundress and sandals -- any semblance of nerves was gone, he couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his lips. 

He handed you the flowers and waited patiently as you placed them in a vase. When you were ready to go you followed him out of your building onto the busy New York street. He hailed a cab surprisingly quickly and gave the driver the address to the restaurant. It was one of the ones he frequented any time he was in the city and he was pleasantly surprised when you said it was one of your favorites as well. Dinner went by with pleasant conversation and he wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that he was right on the cusp of falling for you by the time he paid the check. 

After getting some ice cream and taking a walk through Central Park, he brought you home and walked you back up to your apartment. Knowing the night had to end, and not wanting it to, had him leaning toward you to place a sweet kiss on your lips. It was the perfect first kiss as far as he was concerned and after he said goodnight to you and headed back to his hotel he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

The next few nights were filled with much of the same. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get your mind off of Chris. You’d gone to call him more times than you cared to admit and stopped yourself every time. Finally you decided that enough was enough and you were going to find a way to move on. Your best friend had convinced you to go out and you’d taken her up on the offer. As you got ready you double checked with her that she would be meeting you at your apartment before you headed to the bar. Once she confirmed your plans you continued to get ready, working on your makeup.

You were putting the finishing touches on your hair when there was a knock on your door. Figuring it was your friend and thinking nothing of it you went to answer the door. Your jaw dropped when you saw him standing there, his bags at his feet, looking completely disheveled. 

“Chris --” you said, barely able to catch your breath. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said. “I should have walked right out of that airport and back to you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that day and -- and I know I messed up. I’ve been going over it again and again and I made the wrong decision leaving you that day and I can only hope that you can forgive me. I love you, Y/N, I have since the moment I met you and I should have told you that day. I should have just laid everything out on the line --” 

You could barely comprehend what was happening. Him standing there in front of you, pouring his heart out, was almost too much for you to handle. The only thing running through your mind was that he felt the same way. Without a second thought you closed the gap between you, pushed yourself up on tiptoe to make up for the height difference, and kissed him -- hard -- hoping to pour all of your emotions into the kiss. 

He relaxed against you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, as your arms went around his neck. When you finally broke apart you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I love you too, Chris,” you finally said.

He returned your smile and kissed you once again. All of your worries, doubts and sadness -- along with your plans for the evening -- completely forgotten. All that mattered was that he’d come back and he was there with you.

@arrowsandmixtapes​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​ @growningupgeek​​​​ @phoenixfyre374​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​ @patzammit​​​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​​​ @kitkatd7​​​​

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Five

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, male-on-female violence, description of injuries, PTSD, mentions of blood, violence, and death. Sloooooow burn ahead.

A/N: I continue to be blown away by you guys, thanks so much for all of the love! The tag list is open! so please let me know if youd like to be added! This one is a lil intense, but a beautiful set up in the works ;)

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

Now this is a tac suit.

Cap had left it outside your door for you to wear this morning. The suit fit you perfectly, and allowed for optimal stealth and flexibility. Combat boots, thigh holster, and duel daggers sheaths. Just some of the accessories you’d been gifted with.

Butterflies invaded your stomach as you made your way to the Quinjet. Doing the best you could today was essential for your career, but that wasn’t the only thing causing your nerves.

Sergeant Barnes would be there, and worse than that, so would his attitude. For the life of you, you didn’t understand why his temperament towards you kept changing.

In private, he’s so kind. He cares for you, and he shows it. But yesterday, like so many times before, he truly seemed to hate you. To have no desire for you to be around, and deem you completely useless.

You arrived on the jet last, seeing Bucky sitting alone. He was inspecting his rifle, assuring it was set to go. He glanced at you for a moment, eyes roaming the suit clung to your body before shaking his head and returning his focus to his gun.

Along the wall of the jet was the weapons rack. You load both your waist holster and thigh holster with pistols, and choose daggers lightweight enough to throw if necessary.

Steve walked from the front of the ship and smiled when he saw you. “Ready?” He asked as took a seat, and strapped himself in.

You nod, doing the same. “Ready.”

You sat next to Steve on the jet, Bucky across from you. Not the ideal seating arrangement but hey, you work with what you got. The visual however was certainly enticing. Sergeant Barnes looked so damn good dressed in his tac gear.

“You okay?” Steve asks sincerely, removing you from your thoughts, and earning a muffled scoff from Bucky.

You nod. Looking at Bucky quickly, “Just trying to keep my focus. I don’t wanna mess up.”

Bucky’s face was stoic. You knew he was a master at hiding his emotions, so that didn’t surprise you.

Steve rested his hand on yours, and Bucky shifted forward. “You won’t. You’re ready, besides you’re gonna be our eyes and ears on the ship. Isn’t that right, Buck?” He asked, calling to his friend.

Bucky, in the midst of checking out his rifle, caught Steve’s gaze. “She’s shouldn’t be here at all Steve.”

You sighed. Bucky truly didn’t want you around anymore. Just the thought of him hating you made you heart feel like it was breaking.

“You trained her. That already makes Ella more qualified than any of the recruits we’ve had.” Steve defended you.

You’re always reminded of how grateful you are for Cap. Without him, you’re sure you’d be dead, or worse.

“I only trained her for a small about of time. Who knows what kind of sloppy habits she’s picked up since then.” He quipped.

“Watch it, Tin-man. Watch it.” Sam spoke from the pilot seat.

Sergeant Barnes ignored Sam and turned his attention back to Steve, “The only reason she’s here is because she likes to defy orders,” he cocked his rifle, “and because you’ve taken pity on her.”

“She has a name, Sergeant Barnes,” You retort quickly, “and last time I checked, I don’t have to take orders from you anymore.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, “Like it or not Doll, I’m still a CO.“ He secured the strap on his rifle, “and your name to me is Recruit.” He quipped.

You scoff, “Really? Because that wasn’t the case thr—“

“Arrival in 2 minutes 10 seconds, folks.” Sam shouted, cutting you off. Steve stood and walked to join him while Bucky’s eyes continued to remain on you.

You cleared your throat, moving to stand in front of him. “I understand you don’t like me—that you don’t wanna be around me...”

Yikes. Just saying that aloud hurt your heart.

You continued, “But you gave up on me. So why don’t we just go back to ignoring each other’s existence? That way neither of us gets hurt.”

Bucky doesn’t look at you, but you hear him whisper. “I didn’t give up on you.”

You cross your arms in front of you, “It doesn’t matter now does it? Because no matter what I do, nothing is ever good enough for you; I’ll never be good enough,”

“One minute.” Sam announces again.

Your eyes return to Bucky, whose gaze is now fixated on you. “I’m sorry I’m not enough. But I’m gonna prove you wrong, ya know.”

He licks his lips, about to speak when Steve returns, securing his shield to his back. “Ella stay here, keep the comms open. When you hear from Bucky, he’ll give you the all clear to drop the bay doors for extraction.”

You nod, “If you need me out there, just say the word.”

“No.” Bucky says quickly. “You’re to stay in the jet, don’t compromise this mission because you wanna play hero. Understood?”

Sam and Steve exchange glances, but they can’t interject. Regardless of who’s actually training you, Sergeant Barnes is still your commanding officer.

“Yes.” You grumble.

“Yes, what?” He asks sternly.

You let out a sigh of frustration. “Yes, Sir.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he turns and exits jet, Cap and Sam following swiftly behind him.

He’s been more hostile and short tempered with you than ever. After the...incident...a few weeks ago, you thought maybe things would be different. After all, he’d shown you a side of him you had never seen.

Under all of that coldness and silence, he was kind and gentle. He felt more than he would ever let people know, and the regret and shame he was holding onto after what happened...it made you see him in a different light.

But now, since cutting ties with you, he’s colder than ever. Did he realize that maybe it was your fault? You had undone the months of progress he’d made, simply by being yourself. How could he not resent you for that?

Your mind wandered back to the day he came to your room. When he was stood in your most personal space, being the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him be. His touch echoed on your skin. Your mind recalling how your body reacted when he stroked your jaw. It felt electric—it felt right.

A shudder ran through your body, shaking the memories from your skin. Returning your attention to the controls, you had to admit you were a bit bored. You pop your feet up on the edge of the control panel, unsheathing a knife from your belt.

You toss it in the air a few times, catching it without even focusing. Your mind wouldn’t shut up! If it was just recon, why couldn’t you be out there in the field? At least you could have learned how a proper recon mission was carried out.

Despite your boredom and feeble attempts at distraction, Bucky never left your mind.

Sometimes the way he looks at you makes your stomach do backflips. His eyes have a way of piercing your soul, whether he means to or not. You just want him to like you—why do you want him to like you so badly?

A muffled static pulled you from your thoughts. Putting your knife away, you noticed the comm lines were going crazy, and Steve’s line was glowing. “Cap? What is it?”

You heard a burst of rapid fire. “Ella! Get that door open now!” His voice is panicked and it sounds like he’s running.

Your hands begin to tremble as you push your communicator, “What’s your location?” You respond, hoping your voice isn’t sounding as shaky to them as it does to you.

You wait the required 10 seconds for a response. Nothing.

“Cap? Steve? What’s your location?!” You shout. What were they firing at? This was supposed to be reconnaissance only!

Another 10 seconds pass, still no response. Are they hurt? Is someone down? Is Bucky okay? Steve said Bucky would be the one to give you the all clear...

You jump from your seat, and run to the back of the jet. Grabbing the pistol from your hip, you flick the safety off and hit the red button on the control panel.

The ramp had barely hit the ground before your feet do. The forest is thick, and dark but you’d been here before. The terrain becomes less and less foreign as you run your way through it, jumping over roots and dodging branches in your path.

You pause, turning on your heel as you hear the unmistakable sound of gun fire. It’s was Sergeant Barnes’ rifle, no doubt about it.

Thank God. He’s okay. You think to yourself.

The shots are getting closer now. “Cover, cover! Bogies on my 11 and 3!” You heard Sam’s voice in echo in the distance as it repeated in your ear piece.

They’re close. You think.

“Barnes! Cap! Does anyone copy?!” He screams.

No one is answering, but you still hear Bucky’s gun rapid firing in the distance. You had to do something or Sam wasn’t surviving this mission.

Taking a deep breath you push your communicator, “This is Cadet Monroe...I copy.”

Your boots are echoing off of the sodded ground. “Falcon, what’s your location?” You shout breathily.

“Courtyard in the north-most building!” He responded.

Your eyes scan the field looking for the familiar pillars, knowing the courtyard was in the building opposite. You spot the large cement structure looking like the remains of a building long blown to hell, and run for it.

“Cadet Monroe you get back to the jet NOW!” Bucky’s voice rang over the earpiece. Relief floods your veins when you hear it. He was okay and still fighting. You wanted to, but you couldn’t respond, not when Sam was in trouble.

Pressing your back against the cement wall, you peek around it. You spot Sam hidden between two large cement pillars. “Falcon, on your 6.” You whisper.

You see Sam use his peripherals and he nods subtlety. As Sam’s crouched down behind a chunk of cement, he gestured to his left and your eyes meet where he’s looking. There they were, HYDRA. Two soldiers approaching Sam from either side.

Knowing you only have one chance at this, you line up your shot, remembering what Bucky had told you about leading with you foot, and pull the trigger twice hitting the first soldier square in the chest.

He falls instantly, allowing Sam to run closer to where you are. “Now Sam! I’ll cover you.” You call.

Sam rolls across the opening of the pillars as the second HYDRA soldier pops out from behind the wall. You shoot again, but he dodges them. Without hesitation, you pull the dagger from your side and throw it full force. It slides through his chest like butter, nailing him straight through the heart.

“Ella, get your ass back on that jet! That’s an order!” Bucky shouts. He’s angry, you know that much.

Your instinct is to listen, if you don’t you’ll be defying a direct order from a superior officer. Unsure if it’s Sam’s life being on the line or your pride, you don’t respond to Bucky.

You were determined to prove him wrong.

Your lungs are burning and your adrenaline is working on overdrive, but Sam finally reaches you. “Are you hurt?” You ask breathless.

He shook his head, “No, but remind me again why the hell Barnes wanted you locked in there all this time?” He jested, catching his breath. “Thank you, Ella.”

You nod, clipping your pistol back in its holster. “What happened to simple recon? Hmm?” You tease.

He lets out a small chuckle, “Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam pauses to rip off one of his gloves, “Turns out we—GET DOWN!”

His warning doesn’t come quick enough as a bang surges through your shoulder. An indescribable pain covers the right side of your body as you collapsing to your knees.

Reaching up with your left hand, you grip your shoulder tightly, pulling back to see your hand covered in blood.

Is that my blood? You think as your legs give out beneath you, sending your body into the dirt.

Your hearing is muffled. All you can make out is your heart pounding and bullets being fired. You see Sam, he’s yelling for...Steve? That’s what it looks like he saying anyways. He’s waving someone down before you see him jump over you. Your vision is fading and it’s fading fast.

You’re fighting it as much as you can, blinking to keep the darkness from spreading. Coming to the conclusion you were in shock, you try to take several deep breaths, praying the bullet didn’t hit your lung.

Your hearing is returning slowly, and you catch the ending of your name. Was someone calling your name?

His scent hits you first, immediately bringing some sort of comfort to you. You look over and see Bucky secure his rifle to his side. He scoops you up into his arms, careful to not grip your wound. You feel him running inhumanly fast as he holds you to his chest.

Before you know it, your back hits the cool metal of the Quinjet’s deck as Bucky’s body hovers your right side. You know you’re losing blood and you’re losing it fast. The patches of black dotting your vision return as you catch a glimpse of him, panic is framing his eyes.

“S-Sergeant Barnes?” You ask through a clenched jaw.

“It’s me, Ella. I’ve got you.” He replies. You wanted to smile, but the pain forbid it. He said my name again. You think. His tone was soft, kind and...worried? He’s worried about you?

You see him rip a piece of fabric with his teeth. “B-Bucky I’m s—I’m sorry...Sam he was—c-comprom....couldn’t.” You slur. The blackness takes over. You’re sure you’ve passed out from blood loss.

You feel him jostle you, “Ella, stay with me. Come on Els, come on.” Are you dreaming? You have to be dreaming.

If you are, then this dream is vivid, eerily so. You feel a hand stroking your forehead, “I’ve got you, Doll. I’ve got you.”

God don’t wake me up yet. You think to yourself.

You hear more footsteps, suddenly the gentle hand is gone from your forehead and you feel pressure being applied to your wounded shoulder. You smell him still though, his campfire musk filling your nose and calming your nerves. You’re so relieved he’s alright.

“She’ll be okay Buck.” Steve reassures him. You’re sure dreaming now. Your eyes attempt to open once more, the light now is too bright, filling your vision with white, hot blindness. In the struggle to see, you see Sergeant Barnes stand from your side.

He lets out a shaky breath. Turning to away from you facing the side of the ship. The metal is suddenly rattled with a boom as Bucky’s metal fist collides with the side of the jet.

He looks furious. Yelling something at Sam and Steve. You couldn’t make out what it was, but it was a site you definitely didn’t need to see. “S-sorry. ‘M s-sor...” You mumble before the blackness takes over for good this time.

Chapter Six: Right

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.1

Summary: Bucky has had the day from hell and all he wants is to buy what he needs and get home to his sick kid. Enter Steve Rogers in the wrong place at the wrong time and Bucky’s day goes from bad to mortifying.  Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: A smidge of bad language, but really ya’ll should expect that from me by now lol

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to start a new adventure with me? I knew I wanted to write a kid!fic with Bucky and Steve but I didn’t expect it to go quite this way until I jokingly called a friend “Captain Clueless” and then couldn’t get that name out of my head in relation to Steve. I fell completely in love with this little universe as I went and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes is not at his finest. He just got off a sixteen hour shift from his job as an ER nurse and can barely keep his eyes open. The shift should have ended four hours earlier, but a tour bus accident had them overwhelmed on what had already been a busy night. Bucky was looking forward to catching a few hours of sleep while Becca was at preschool but nope, he came home to a frazzled best friend/ babysitter and a sick four year old. It was always something with Becca, her immune system just wasn’t what it needed to be. Bucky couldn’t fault her for that, she had been born premature and that unfortunately resulted in a whole host of health issues for the little girl. He would never regret adopting her, it was the best decision he’d ever made, but some days parenthood wore on him. 

Bucky moves the load of laundry Natasha had started for him into the dryer. It smells clean but there will forever be a slight stain from puke on the ladybug print sheets. He can try his heavy duty stain remover on it later, but he knows there is only so much that can be done for white fabric and bodily fluids. There’s a reason most of his scrubs are black. After checking in on Becca, Bucky begs Natasha to stay a little longer so he can run down to the bodega to pick up a few things for when Becca wakes up. He would have sworn they had an extra bottle of Pedialyte, but apparently they’d used it up during Becca’s last bout with the flu. 

Natasha waits patiently, listening to Bucky complain about his shift while he quickly changes out of his scrubs into a pair of soft grey sweats and an old Blink 182 tshirt. She’s been his best friend since their first year of college when they met in Intro to Biology. The two of them have been inseparable ever since, both even choosing to stay in Brooklyn after college instead of going back to where they were from. Natasha’s family was from Russia but traveled a lot so she was happy staying in the city that felt like home to her, and Bucky would have done just about anything to avoid going back to the tiny town in Indiana where his parents were still selling drugs out of their trailer and making each other miserable. 

Bucky had thought he was free of his family forever when NYU accepted him into their nursing program. It was his way out of a poverty stricken little town that people rarely escaped from. Bucky had left home at eighteen with no intentions of returning, and he probably never would have, but during his last year of nursing school he found out through Facebook that his thirty eight year old mother was pregnant. To no one’s surprise, his mom was still dealing, still with his deadbeat dad, and was too far along when she found out she was pregnant to have any other option than having the baby. It was a repeat of the situation she’d found herself in at sixteen when she had Bucky. Knowing what it was like to grow up in that house, Bucky couldn’t allow another child to be brought into such a toxic environment. As soon as his mom confirmed the news was true, he hopped on the next flight out to Indiana and started the process to legally adopt his sister once she was born. 

When Rebecca Grace Barnes came into the world nine weeks early the doctors said it was a miracle she survived. She was so small, just barely three pounds, and needed to stay in the NICU for just over a month. Bucky had made arrangements with his professors to turn in exams and papers online, barely managing to finish up his nursing degree while biding his time before he could go back to Brooklyn with his baby sister. It had been a wild ride trying to get his nursing career started while caring for a newborn but Natasha had been a life saver. She and their other friend Clint had stepped up in a huge way, helping to watch Becca when he needed to work and daycare wasn’t open. Their schedules had gotten even messier recently when Becca started preschool. Bucky is counting down the days until kindergarten starts so their schedules will align enough for him to only lean on Nat and Clint one or two days a week at most. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Natasha throws a balled up Minnie Mouse sock at Bucky who’s too tired to dodge and instead gets a face full of pink fleece. 

“Yeah, Nat,” Bucky sighs, wishing he could take off his aching prosthetic but knowing he’ll need both hands for shopping bags. “I’m getting you a choco taco and a red bull this time. I got you.” 

Natasha nods happily, completely unphased by Bucky’s eye roll. She’s getting her wake up juice and her crunchy chocolatey sugar, and that is all that matters.

Bucky rushes around the bodega grabbing everything he’ll need to deal with a sick kid, throwing things in the basket without even bothering to check price tags. His bank account will hate him, but he doesn’t exactly have time or options to find the best deals. Grabbing Nat’s items and an iced coffee for himself, he waits in line as an older man chats with the clerk while the teenager rings up his order. The television in the corner is playing the local news, apparently Captain America visited a rec center in Brooklyn recently. There are sound bites from elderly residents and young kids fawning over him, and one of the Captain himself extolling the importance of community and keeping kids off the streets.

Bucky thinks his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head with how hard he rolls them. “This fucking guy.” Bucky grumbles as he places his basket on the counter, unloading his stuff. 

The clerk nods in silent agreement.

“I’m sure he was a ‘bright shining beacon of hope’ back in WWII but he has no clue what’s going on in the real word nowadays.” Bucky continues.

The clerk nods once again and Bucky, feeling particularly exhausted and grumpy, yells over at the TV, “It’s not all rainbows and sunshine Captain Clueless!”  

“Captain Clueless?” A deep voice rumbles from behind him, “I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but that’s a new one.” 

Bucky sees the clerk's face go pale and the kid freezes, confirming what Bucky feared when he heard that rich baritone behind him. Oh fuck. 

Turning around, Bucky prepares himself for the worst. Instead, he finds an extremely amused looking Captain America holding a bottle of water and a bag of swedish fish. 

“I’m… I… I didn’t mean…” Bucky stammers. He doesn’t know how to politely explain I meant every word but never meant for you to hear it. 

The register pings as the clerk frantically finishes ringing up Bucky’s order, trying to get both men out of the shop before the situation can get any worse. The sound startles Bucky and he turns around to see the green blinking $58.79 on the little box. His stomach sinks, there went grocery shopping for the week. But, he reasons, Becca won’t want much for a few days while she recovers and he’s no stranger to a ramen-only diet. They’ll get by, just like they always do. 

Before Bucky can hand over his last three twenties, a sleek black card taps against the card reader and the machine starts blinking, processing it. Bucky spins around in surprise only to literally face plant into a solid wall of muscle. Muscle that smells like tea tree and mint, yum. Bucky moves backwards in surprise, bumping into the counter but getting himself away from the giant of man who’s also moving backwards after their collision. 

“It’s on me.” Steve tells him with a shrug. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Bucky insists, “I insulted you.” 

“You were just being honest.” Steve reasons, “I don’t get to hear people’s honest opinions all that much.” 

“That has to be weird.” 

Steve chuckles, “Pal, you got no idea.” 

“Well, thank you. And I am sorry you heard that.” Bucky collects his bags, still dumbfounded by the whole experience. 

“I’d like to hear more about why you said it. Whatever you think it is I’m missing about the twenty-first century. I’m just out for a run so if you don’t mind company on your way back to wherever, maybe we could talk?” 

Bucky shakes his head. The man actually wants to learn how to be a better person after being insulted by a random grungey stranger in a bodega. “You really are Captain America.” Bucky murmurs, still stunned. 

Steve chuckles again; a deep, throaty sound. “Yeah, guilty as charged. But you can just call me Steve.” Steve winks conspiratorially and Bucky thinks he might actually combust. No one should be allowed to be that good looking. 

Bucky waits as the cashier rings Steve up for his things and Steve taps his card again to pay. “I thought it was weird enough getting a card that swiped when I came out of the ice, but now this one doesn’t even swipe. It just taps and poof, done.” Steve says with a faint tone of awe. 

Bucky can’t imagine how many things Steve needed to adjust to after waking up from the ice. “Far cry from what you were used to, huh?” 

“Well, it sure beats keeping coins in old coffee cans.” 

Bucky glances over at Steve as they leave the bodega together, “You do that whole ‘awe shucks, man out of time’ thing really well. Is it real though? No offense, you can’t really be that well adjusted. You’re still human.”

Steve meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, crystalline blue piercing into smoke grey-blue, assessing him. After a few beats he decides Bucky is someone who can handle the truth. “It’s a lot easier to do that than to curse up a storm every time some piece of tech pisses me off. Plays out a lot better with the whole Captain America image too.”  

“I didn’t think Captain America even knew how to swear.” Bucky teases. 

“He doesn’t, but Steve Rogers does. I grew up in Brooklyn, I know how to curse.” 

Bucky laughs, swinging his bags idly as they walk in silence for a few steps.

Steve breaks the silence, reminding him of why they’re walking down the street together in the first place, “So really, why do you think I’m so out of touch? Because I thought SHIELD did a bang up job teaching me about the world and what I missed while I was out.” 

“I’m sure they did, but SHIELD is still an agency with their own ideas and agendas. I promise you, you got a watered down version of real life. Do me a favor; when you get home look up what they say about The Great Depression and WWII. Do a little research on how we look back at those times. Then think about how it really was back then when you were living it. I would bet you lunch that the two don’t line up.” 

“I never thought about it that way.” Steve admits. “I’ll look it up today, promise.”

They arrive on Bucky’s stoop and he climbs up a step, looking down at Steve instead of up at him. He wants to know what Steve thinks once he does some research but doesn’t know how to ask. Luckily, Steve beats him to it. 

“I’m going to need your number if you’re taking me out to lunch.” Steve says casually, a light hint of teasing. 

Bucky blushes, trying to remind himself that he was the one who threw the lunch bet out there. Steve Rogers would never just ask him out like that. “I… uh… um…” he fumbles anyway.

Steve takes a step back in retreat, his own cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, that was. I’m sorry. You clearly have a sick kid to get back to, and I’m sure a lovely wife waiting for you too.” he motions at Bucky’s bags. “Thank you, for being honest with me.” Steve turns to hurry off and, thankfully, Bucky’s brain catches up with him.

“Steve, no.” he blurts out. “No wife. Sick kid, yes. But no, um, no one else. If you want my number, I’ll give it to you. My schedule is a little weird because of my job but I do want to know what you think when you get done looking things up.” 

Steve smiles up at Bucky, soft and hopeful and genuine. It isn’t the All American facade grin he uses for the cameras, and it feels all the more special to Bucky because of it. Steve hands over his phone to Bucky so he can enter in his contact info and then sends him a quick text so Bucky has his number too. “So, I’ll call you later then?” Steve tries, sounding a little unsure still.

“Yeah, I’ll look forward to it, Steve.” Bucky looks up at his doorway, knowing he needs to get back to Becca but not wanting Steve to leave quite yet. 

Steve takes the hint and gives him another soft smile and a small wave as he turns and heads off down the bustling city sidewalk. 

Bucky stands there a moment, collecting himself and trying to process it all, before hurrying back upstairs to his little apartment to relieve Natasha of babysitting duty.

*** New chapters will be posted on Sunday and Wednesday nights until the fic is complete ***

[heli0s-writes]

II. The Binding

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  You return to the newly dubbed Avengers Tower after two years. The Words find you with a surprise. A/N: Part 2 of Mystery of Love.

It took a few months for you to settle in and find a new apartment, but soon enough you were back on a regular schedule. Your work continued to be well-reviewed and circulating, which was a good sign because it meant you could still make a living off it. The merchandise in your store was steadily being bought and it certainly helped that you still had quite a bit of money left over from your last few paychecks. There were invitations in your inbox for exhibitions and requests to purchase original files of your work. For now, you were leaving them unread.

You visited your parents once, to talk to them, but you felt strange in their home. The longer your conversation went on, the more you realized that your parents couldn’t comprehend the importance of your work to you. Nor did they understand why you were no longer enamored with the idea of a soulmate. To them, you were meandering around the world to pursue a hobby, luckily it made you quite a bit of money, but you needed to settle down and find your other half. He was in Manhattan, they believed, so you needed to stay put. When you scoffed and said that it could very well be a “she”, they asked you to leave and think about your actions for a few days.

On a sunny May morning, as you reviewed the hundreds of pictures from your journeys, you received an e-mail from Ms. Potts. She hoped you had a fun trip, and that she’d like for you to come by for another assignment. She promised that there was a surprise.

You thought the surprise was that the Avengers Tower was now called Avengers Facility and was outside of town. It wasn’t. The surprise also wasn’t the chauffer who pulled up the next day to drive you there.

You balked at the size of the estate upon seeing it. She met you once again at the door, first to give you a hug and ask about your travels, then as if she’d done something wrong, Ms. Potts bashfully straightened her skirt and led you in. You laughed and returned the hug, thanking her for the bonus; it had gotten you through more than 5 countries in almost two years, after all.

The contract she slid under your nose was entirely review same guidelines as before. There were new specifications, however, four new Avengers: Samuel Thomas “Sam” Wilson, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, and Wanda Maximoff. You had heard about Sokovia while you were travelling- it happened while you were in Thailand, and Sergeant Barnes’ investigation and trial was on the news during your entire stay in Saudi Arabia. It was very, very recent.

“I thought you might like an additional photo to your Peculiar Pairs Series,” Ms. Potts smiled, “Wanda and Pietro are bonded,”

Your eyes must have looked like saucers. You’d never seen it before- soulmate twins! There were old folktales, of course, but you didn’t think it was real. You gasped in disbelief and ransacked your brain for an appropriate response. What kind of words would they have said to each other? Babies don’t have a concept of language? What was it like growing up together- what is their relationship with each other like? What did their family think?

You sputtered.

“I… Only with their permission, of course!”

Pepper laughed, “Yes, of course. Come on, let’s go see everyone.”

It was then that a wave of nausea hit you, thinking suddenly about Captain Rogers and the awful feeling your stomach gets around him. It was such an embarrassing thing to admit and be helpless to control. You often wondered to yourself if you were reacting so extremely because he scared you? No, he didn’t. Did you like him? Well, you didn’t know him. You were attracted to him, yes, but who wasn’t?

Captain Rogers had been in your textbook since you were a little girl. You went to the museum in Brooklyn multiple times and gazed at his uniform and peered at his photographs alongside Sergeant Barnes. He was handsome in such a honest and gentle way, someone once upon a time you might have dreamt of being your soulmate. He had beautiful blue eyes and a boyish grin, even as a man. You always thought even before the serum, you could have liked him. It wasn’t like you were a very tall woman, anyway.

You rubbed your sternum discreetly as you slipped behind Ms. Potts.

“Please call me Pepper,” she said abruptly, as if she were letting out a too-big breath of air, “Please. And Tony would love it if you’d call him y’know, by his first name too.”

You blushed. You’d just never been that way. But you promised her to try.

“I understand we’re all much older, but just get into the habit, yeah? Wanda and Pietro are your age, and wouldn’t it be weird to call them Mr. and Ms. Maximoff?”

You agreed.

After a few long hallways, the turn led into a large sitting space illuminated by an entire wall made of windows. A large sectional was placed in the center of the room along with some single sofas and bean bags. There was a bookshelf along one wall and a flat-screen across from the seats. All eyes turned to you when you entered. You recognized them- Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bucky Barnes, the Maximoff Twins, and Sam Wilson. Apprehension flooded your core at the sight of the Captain. Sergeant Barnes, who sat beside him, seemed to be glaring.

“Ah! There’s my favorite little P.R. twerp!” Tony Stark cried as he slid across the rug, arms outstretched, “Missed your photos, kid, I’ve got one of me blown up in the master right now. It’s fantastic.”

“Thanks, Tony,” You replied shyly, feeling a bit silly for taking so long to make the switch. Tony gasped dramatically and pretended to be on the verge of tears, punctuating his display with a loud, “Finally!”

Natasha came to hug you as well, whispering a greeting in your ear and congratulating you on all the good fortune with your travels.

The twins regarded you wordlessly, both giving curt nods and gazing at your camera bag. You returned the gesture, placing your hand on the strap to move the bag out of view- you didn’t want to take their picture until they were ready, regardless of what the contract stated. Sam Wilson came to shake your hand and introduce himself. He was very charming, you noted, and definitely knew how to hold a conversation- maybe being the most normal person here.

“I’m such a fan of your work,” he said with a smile, “It’s such a refreshing take on an old, trite thing.” You thanked him in response, grabbing the strap of your camera bag nervously. It was a habit you were trying to let go of, but receiving compliments was still something you handled poorly.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had been standing since you and Pepper entered the room. You noticed that the Captain cut his hair shorter than you’d seen it before. Two years ago, it was longer on top and brushed to the side. He tentatively gave you a small smile and waved, unsure of your reaction.  

When you smiled back, he exhaled loudly, “It’s good to see you,”

“You too, Captain”

There was a sudden sensation prickling at your flesh. At first it tickled, like a brush, but then it hit you like a staccato of needles stabbing into the skin of your chest. Your face contorted into an expression of confusion before the pain hit, hands pulling the strap of the camera bag down roughly to investigate the source of your agony. You backed up into a chair. Natasha and Pepper rushed over. The sweltering feeling grew as you struggled to unbutton your shirt, finally giving up and tearing it halfway down the middle.

As the buttons scattered, you watched in horror as black words appeared on your sternum, all capital letters running up your chest in a straight line: it’s good to see you.

Captain Rogers groaned audibly and fell backwards onto the couch as he frantically rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to see your words appear on his left bicep, cursive script running in a circle to disappear and return around. The room was filled with gasps and clattering chairs as the watchers began to realize what was unfolding. Sergeant Barnes leaned down to examine his friend, fearfully looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Jesus Christ!” He cried, as the Captain’s handwriting stopped carving into your skin. Your gasps were beginning to subside when he called out, but when those words left his lips, you began to feel it again, this time overtaking your arm. You couldn’t remain balanced on the chair any longer as you doubled over in pain, sliding onto the floor, just out of reach of Natasha’s steadying hands on you.

Underneath the loose sleeve of your speckled navy and white button up, the Sergeant’s words appeared in thick, heavy strokes of half-cursive, half-print: Jesus Christ.

The room froze in disbelief. Everyone looked from you to the Captain, to the Sergeant. Even your tears subsided for the time being while your heart hammered in your chest. There was ringing in your ears as you tried to still your panting, your hands trembled as they touched the newly formed Words on your left arm.

Sergeant Barnes slowly rose to his feet, staring at you. The Captain did the same. The three of you knew why this was happening, but not quite what it meant, or what it involved for your futures. Captain Rogers extended his hand first, and you slowly slipped shaky fingers into his large palm. It engulfed your hand in a compassionate but strong grip, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his arm flexed ever so slightly as he pulled you up. The touch had an immediate response. It felt like the first time you stepped on warm sand, or the feeling of an ice pack on your head in the throes of a fever. In Captain Rogers’ eyes, you could see the same emotions overpowering him.

“Say something to him,” he whispered. You gulped, looking at the Sergeant, waiting by his side, lips parted in anticipation. You shook your head wildly, afraid. Your first words to Captain Rogers were so dull already- what could you say to the Sergeant? You were racking your brain for phrases you’d memorized over time when he spoke up.

“Say somethin’, please,” Sergeant Barnes’ icy blue eyes urged you with a frantic plea, “There’s nothin’ that wouldn’t be just exactly how it should.”

Your stomach turned again and you reflexively placed a hand to your torso, suddenly reminded that your shirt was undone, your breasts barely covered by the sides of fabric. Captain Rogers pulled it shut for you, sliding one seam over another, and lightly touched your collarbone before letting his hand fall back to his side. It was a deliberate motion; the desire to pull you up into his arms and hide you away in his room was riotous in his mind, and it was taking all of him to be still.

“I’m not so bad, am I?” the Sergeant took a step forward, expression faltering on the cusp of sorrow. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find what to say. He was a complete stranger- just another legend you grew up with, like the Captain, like soulmates and the idea of love. But he was right now in front of you, he was proof that the legends you’d been disregarding for the past 4 years existed, as much as you wished they didn’t. His hand brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, and leaving a tingling path in its wake.

“This… can’t be real,” You gasped absentmindedly as his thumb traced a line down your jaw. When your eyes started to fill up again with tears, you didn’t know, but they were cascading down your face as Sergeant Barnes sucked in a sharp breath. His full bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he unbuttoned the loose Henley. Your eyes travelled slowly down each button. At the edge of the slit in his shirt, there they were, the Words… your Words: this can’t be real. They were in the same position as Captain Rogers’ Words on your own chest. Sergeant Barnes exhaled shakily as the letters finished their scorching trail on him. The three of you stared at each other, heaving in unison, panting, steadying the furious butterflies in your stomachs.

Sam Wilson was the first to speak up, shattering the silence with the question everyone else thought, “What just happened?”

It shook you from your daze. Both of Pepper’s hands were clasped over her mouth. Natasha looked astonished, but intrigued. Tony slowly made his way to Pepper and pulled her hands down, gripping it tight in his, his eyes remained transfixed on the three of you on the floor the entire time. The twins sat in silence, fingers intertwined with pleased smiles.  

“This is incredible,” Pepper sighed, “I’ve only heard stories,”

“You... all are soulmates?” Sam asked

You looked back and forth between the two men at your side, unsure of how to answer. You could only think of the time you met John in Prospect Park with Francis and Marilynn. Tony seemed to recall that photo as well and spoke up in clear voice over his shoulder.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., pull up the Peculiar Pairs photo gallery on the T.V.” The flatscreen hummed to life as Tony scrolled to the last images of the set. There were three elderly people sitting on the bench together, holding each others’ hands. Francis on the left, John in the middle, Marilynn on the right, all smiles. Tony traced the Words on Francis’ wrist and Words on Marilynn’s collarbone. John sat happily between them, two sets of words etched on the same spaces: wrist and collarbone.

Tony pointed to you, “Same thing,” he said with a slight jerk of his neck, “You got Capsicle’s words on your chest, Count Buckula’s words on your arm… and he’s—” a slide to the right of his finger, pointing to Captain Rogers, “—got your words on his arm… and those words are on his chest…” the finger slid to the other side, at the Sergeant.

Both of Tony’s hands came to rest on his hips as he regarded you almost proudly. “I can’t believe it, kid, you got two soulmates.” It seemed like the speech would end there, but Tony’s eye began to twinkle mischievously, and a deviant smirk overtook his previously harmless smile, “Oh my, my, my, my, my, aren’t you three going to be having some adventurous s- Ah!”

Pepper had punched him before he could finish his sentence, and began to twist his ear, dragging him out of the room with a very sympathetic apology. The rest of the Avengers followed suit, loudly clearing their throats, offering you congratulations and smiles as a dark pink blush spread over your cheeks. The Maximoffs were the last to leave. Pietro strode casually to the hallway but lingered in the shadow as Wanda put her hand on your shoulder with a knowing smile. She pulled up the sleeve of her flowing blouse and showed you her brother’s mark--- a long curved line, punctuation with a frenzy of dashes and dots at the end. “Do not worry. It is meant to be how it is meant to be,”

At her brother’s bidding, Wanda slipped away as well, following him down the hall.

You were left alone with them. The two men standing in front of you stiff like statues, hands clenched tightly at their sides. You didn’t know what to do with your own body, either, as it hummed and positioned to their frequency. There was a vibration that was unmoving, a tune that was noiseless, a thread hanging onto all three of you, stringing you together. Your legs were beginning to shake.

Sergeant Barnes noticed and led you to the couch as Captain Rogers pushed two loose sofas closer so that they could sit facing you. He was careful to give you as much space as you needed, so long as it didn’t entirely take you away. The very sight of you now, etched with his Words gave him the clarity he’d been searching for nearly his entire life. He didn’t need verbal verification to know that Bucky also felt the same way.  

Your gaze slowly traveled up to the sandy-haired man sitting in front, leaning forward with his elbows resting atop of his knees. You’d known this man for years, but somehow in this moment, he looked so strange and unfamiliar. His brow creased with curiosity. You were sure this wasn’t how he – either of them- must have imagined meeting their soulmate. You were just some kid. Christ, fifteen minutes ago, you were still rejecting the idea of soulmates!

The markings on your body began to feel heavy with each acrimonious thought. Your chest tightened up again, stomach squeezing itself inside of you. Tears started to fall from your eyes as the room caved in. Your heart felt so full, as if it could burst from your chest at any minute if you let it. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing at your chest and arm, scratching wrathfully at the Words’ inscription on your body. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want it. You refused it.

In the darkness of the chamber, you heard someone say, “She’s having a panic attack, Buck,”

A warm hand found itself against your back, rubbing large lines up and down your spine leisurely. Another hand was rubbing against the narrow plane in between your breasts, but it was cold and made you shiver. Someone’s hands were tucking your hair behind both ears, sweetly wiping away the tears that ran freely and gathered under your chin. You felt so small against them, leaning sadly into the warmth, shuddering sobs shaking your frame.

“Breathe… breathe, there you go, hon’, you’re doing great,”

The blackness soon began to fade, and you struggled to follow the rhythmic directions being whispered into your ear. New tears were shushed away gently by another voice, like an ocean breeze blowing away sand. Your hands clenched severely to your thighs, but soon were peeled away and held in a grasp that burned like a furnace. When the light returned to your field of vision, you could make out the Captain and Sergeant giving you encouraging smiles.

“I’m.. sorry,” you wheezed hoarsely. You hadn’t experienced one of these since early college.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a lot to take in,” Captain Rogers spoke, squeezing your left hand in his. At the sensation, you looked down to see your small hand, once again, engulfed in his and laughed loudly, surprising them both. They were glad to see you laughing, at least, and only raised their eyebrows to question it. You shook your head, not knowing where to start, pulling your hand away and wrapping both arms around your legs. You didn’t notice Captain Rogers’ expression.

“How does this work, Captain?” You asked, murmuring, in hopes that if they didn’t hear you, maybe you could just avoid talking about it forever. “There’s… two of you… the Sergeant, I.. this… we’ve only just met.” You squeezed your puffy eyes shut, feeling your poor head starting to hurt.

“Please,” he called, “Please…” it was pleading, soft and slow, so, so desperate, “Call me Steve, please.”

You swallowed, trying the sound out over your tongue gently, “Steve,” You chanced a look over to his left, where icy blue eyes wandered over your face.

“You’ve got more options with me, hon’” a smile graced Sergeant Barnes, and you started to notice just how much more handsome he was in person. All those museum photos could never capture the sharpness of his jaw, or the way his stubble worked to frame his face, or the dip in his chin that seemed to make his rather intense features so agreeable. His long hair was much nicer in person than it was on all those breaking news broadcasts. His blue gaze was brighter than you could have ever imagined from those black and white reels. You licked your lips idly, and flushed pink when both men followed the trajectory of your tongue and lingered on your mouth.

“Bucky work for you? If not, you can call me James,” “That’s his government name,” Steve quipped, getting smirks from both of you.

You tried both, and promised you would try to settle on Bucky. Neither of them felt right anyway, since you’d grown up categorizing any information you knew of him under “Sergeant Barnes”. You relayed the information to them, and added that frankly, it unsettled you to call Steve by his first name too. They, in return, promised to be patient.

“What if… its’ wrong?” Your face contorted, your eyes were flashing from Steve to Bucky, back to Steve, back to Bucky. Your brain was revving up, “I mean, soulmates, you know? What is that? Right?” God, you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop. “Shouldn’t we choose who we love? We’re… god, we were born decades apart. You guys are… superhuman.. and I’m just 23…! Compared to you, you’re legends, you’re Avengers, you save the damn world? Oh my god, I just take pictures of people.”

“I’ve never even kissed a boy.” You said suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut. There were flashbacks to all the times you’d run away from boys, or during the speed-meets when you’d stare longingly into someone’s eyes for the good span of five seconds before having to do it again with someone else thirty more times, or in undergrad, when you tried to go on a date with Nathan Young but when he dropped you off at home and put his hand on your thigh, you bolted.

Bucky and Steve laughed in relief as you slid your head in-between your hands. They shared a knowing look with each other before Bucky slid his hooked finger under your chin and turned you upward to gaze at him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t gotta kiss anyone unless you want to,” he assured, “We just want to be with you,”

They laughed again in unison. Bucky leaned back on the sofa and put both arms behind his neck, letting Steve explain.

“We’re eager, but we understand. I’ve waited for so long. We’ve tried to ignore fate… with dating,” A snort from Bucky confirmed his fact, “It never worked out.” Steve continued, “I feel it, in my gut, this is right. Can’t you? Buck and I, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers; there are no secrets between us.”  

You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling it settle strangely, wondering if the sickness you’d experienced in the past around Steve was a sign you wrongfully chalked up to your anxiety. He seemed to hear your thoughts and nodded, letting you know that the fateful day in the conference room, when he reached his quarters, he had developed an angry red rash across his arm. He was curious, but since you were keen on avoiding him, he let you have your space. Now, as the three of you sat in each other’s company, you couldn’t help but wonder if the universe needed all of you together for the Words to work.

You asked them for their patience. You needed to go home, let the information settle, do some work to calm down, maybe. You could tell that Bucky was hesitant to let you go, but Steve assured him it would be fine. He asked for you to return soon, because as you knew, soulmates who were already bound to each other with Words, suffered each other’s maladies, and he was honest in letting you know that it would hurt him to not be close to you.

When you quietly got ready to leave, Bucky broke the silence by asking your name- a fact you’d forgotten to give in the chaos of the Binding. He repeated it, over and over again, tongue touching the top of his mouth in deliberate flicks, as if it was holy. Steve walked you to the car and watched it until you disappeared into the horizon.

Upon returning to the lounge area where Bucky sat, pained expression casting harsh shadows on his face, Steve placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Bucky understood the implication of the hand—a request to keep his promise of patience. He wanted to, for you. He wanted to do anything for you.

“She’s gotta come back, Stevie,” he muttered, hand reaching up into his shirt to trace the words. Steve assured him that she would. “I can’t stand it, Stevie, all those times in the chair, when they were scrambling my brain,” his voice dropped low, “I was thinkin’ about her. I could feel her somewhere, not knowing what she looked like or anything, but just feel her. Can’t stand it that she doesn’t want to be here now.”

Steve didn’t need his friend to finish the sentence to know what he meant.

“Buck, if we push her, we’ll lose her. I want the same thing, but she needs to come to that conclusion on her own.”

That night, as you fell into your bed, a message blinked on your phone- an e-mail from Pepper. It was the picture you took of of John, Francis, and Marilynn- from Prospect Park, beaming on that old wooden bench next to the birdbath. A single question was written beneath the photograph.

It worked out for them, didn’t it?

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