#warehouse counting

[its-vishnu-stuff]

AI Solutions for Automated Pallet Counting - Innodatatics

A cutting-edge technical tool called the Automated Pallet Counting System was created to improve and expedite inventory management in warehouses and distribution facilities. With the use of advanced algorithms and cutting-edge imaging technology, this system counts pallets precisely in real-time, eliminating the need for manual labor and decreasing human error. It easily interfaces with the current warehouse management systems, offering real-time information and comprehensive reports that support accurate stock control, enhanced operational effectiveness, and storage space optimization.

[mooingwithmidnight]

I’ve been thinking a lot about the way they revealed that HG was bisexual recently. Because the thing with saying “many of my lovers have been men” is that it could either be said as a joke by a straight character, or by a sapphic character revealing that they’ve slept with women.

For example, Pete, known womanizer, saying “hey I have experience with the opposite sex- many of my lovers have been women” would be received as a joke. Not because it’s impossible he’s bisexual, but because he would say it to be like “hey, idk if y’all know this, but I’ve had sex with like, a lot of women”.

The thing that really solidifies this as “oh my god she’s canonically bisexual” and not (solely) “oh my god she’s slept with a lot of guys” is the others’ reactions. Claudia’s slow turn of “oml what did she just say” and Pete’s wide-eyed blinking stare both indicate that they took it to mean she’s bisexual, and that we as the audience likely should as well.

(Sidebar: Myka’s reaction of nothing more than this smirk/knowing smile is INSANE why don’t we talk about this more?? That is either the smile of woman “oh my god is this really happening” or the amused smirk of woman who absolutely already knows this information.)

And if you want to argue “oh well maybe the characters misunderstood her”- bet?? This is not a “woman displaced in time misunderstands something modern” moment. Helena knows what she said, she knows how it was received and understood; and it was understood correctly. She doesn’t correct their reactions because they were the reactions she was either expecting or hoping for.

I know they aren’t going to do literally anything with her bisexuality (this doesn’t include the two actresses intentionally building on the romantic/sexual tension between their characters- I mean the writers) and they CERTAINLY aren’t going to do what they should. And what everybody wants. And probably wanted. But it’s interesting nonetheless, and if they didn’t want us to ship Bering and Wells they did a very poor job at preventing it!

[writinggremln]

June of doom 2 - "I'm worried about you"

Infection | Protective | Confession (not the romantic kind though so idk if it counts)

"I'm disappointed in you, Hero." Superhero's voice, which was usually so rich and warm, was tired and rough. Hero tried to ignore the sting they felt in their chest. Instead they cleared their throat and avoided eye contact, their gaze roaming around the abandoned warehouse Superhero dragged them into.

"I can't imagine why," they fixed their eyes on a crack on the wall, "I save your sorry ass and this is the thanks I get. So typical of you."

Superhero ignored the blatant disrespect. "You deliberately disobeyed my orders."

"What orders?" Hero scoffed.

"You were supposed to stay put." Their superior's voice echoed loudly, a grating voice in Hero's ears. "Your orders were clear. You were to wait for my fucking signal. You were to stay hidden. You were not to attract attention to yourself. You were never supposed to be in the field. Not in this particular mission."

"Why?" Hero couldn't help huffing out a humourless laugh. "Because of Supervillain?"

"YES, BECAUSE OF SUPERVILLAIN!"

Hero flinched. Both they and Superhero were surprised by the sudden outburst. The usual perfect image that Superhero so carefully maintained, even when it was just the two of them, was broken. In front of Hero stood a trembling figure, from anger or fear, they did not know, with disheveled hair and tired, red eyes, possibly from all the sleepless nights. Their tall figure, usually held straight, towered over Hero, who just now noticed how big and intimidating their mentor actually was.

They stood like that for a few moments that seemed to last for eternity, until Superhero realized how harshly they were breathing. They leaned back and ran a hand through uncombed hair, not meeting Hero in the eye.

Hero's mouth felt dry. "Why..." they croaked, their throat suddenly tight, "Why are you..."

"Hm?"

"Why are you like this?" Superhero raised an eyebrow. Their eyes widened slightly at Hero's teary eyes. Hero gulped and continued, their voice wavering. "Why are you pretending you're worried about me?"

"I am worried about you!" Superhero looked like Hero was being the unreasonable one here. It pissed them off. "Hero, I'm... I'm always worried about you."

"Don't give me that crap!" Hero shouted, their face hot and their tears even hotter. Superhero looked shocked. That only pissed them off more. "You were not worried when you trained me until my bones broke and my ribs cracked. You weren't worried when you abandoned me on my first ever mission, leaving me to face Villain alone. You weren't worried when I left on countless missions where I came back with my spirit shattered and with blood on my hands." They took a shaky breath, locking eyes with their usually aloof superior, who had a very strange look on their face. "And you're certainly not worried about me now."

Hero took a small defiant step forward and Superhero a smaller step back. "Admit it." Hero spat with venom. "The only thing you're worried about is your pride."

They panted, feeling big fat droplets of tears on their face. Superhero was eerily silent, with a very odd look on their eyes. Then...

"Is that what you really think of me," their voice was so broken, Hero thought they were imagining it, "Hero?"

Hero blinked. Superhero continued. "Hero I... I care about you. All those things I did, I did it to prepare you for all the dangers this job comes with."

"Then why never show it!?" Hero's voice cracked.

"To protect you!" Superhero sounded both desperate and authoritative. "If I went with you on your first mission it would've attracted more dangerous criminals than what you're facing right now! Criminals that want to get to me! I had to keep you at arms length at all times, less some spy or villain noticed I was starting to care about you!"

Hero only stared shocked as their mentor's eyes filled with tears. Superhero. Crying. Because of them.

"Hero," Superhero looked like a normal civilian then, so small despite their size, so vulnerable, "Hero, you're like a..." their voice trailed off. Hero waited.

"You're like family to me."

And Hero couldn't take it anymore. Their breath hitched as they hunched forward, tears blurring their vision as they sobbed. They felt a warm, gentle hand on their shoulder.

"Whatever I did, all those times I went too rough on you, all those time I ignored you or abandoned you, just know, Hero," Superhero's free hand cradled Hero's cheek, wiping their tears with a thumb. Their face was as teary as Hero's. "I never meant to hurt you."

They slowly wrapped their arms around the smaller hero, hesitantly and when Hero moved closer they held them tight against their chest, stroking their back slowly. Hero's body shuddered and convulsed at every sob they let out, hands clasping tight their mentor's shirt. "I'm sorry." They heard Superhero whisper in their ear, their voice raw. "Please, please, forgive me."

Hero chocked. Superhero's hold on them tightened. "Please."

They stayed like that for a while. Hero was positive their mentor's shirt was sogged with their tears by now. How embarrassing.

"You two are so cute." A cold voice was heard behind Superhero suddenly. Both heroes tensed.

Hero's heart pounded wildly and they felt Superhero tighten their hold before releasing them from their hug. They straightened their back and kept both hands on Hero's shoulders instead. Their face was back to their usually stoic and guarded one, as if they were not crying just a second ago. It was concerning how fast they managed that.

"Supervillain." Superhero greeted, their voice betraying nothing. They gave Hero's shoulders a small squeeze before turning their back on them, facing Supervillain. "It's not like you to lurk around abandoned warehouses."

"There's always a first time for everything, honey." Supervillain's voice drawled in a playful manner, but Hero could've sworn they heard something else in their voice. Bitterness? Superhero didn't answer, keeping Hero behind them.

Hero wiped their remaining tears quickly, stepping slightly beside Hero so they could see their enemy. Supervillain caught their eye and grinned. Hero refused to flinch. How long have they been there? Hero wondered, hands turned to fists.

"So..." Supervillain turned their predatory gaze towards Superhero. "Hero's like family to you, huh?"

[mirellapryce]

What if Charles had just offered to bribe the cats/Cat King? Just,

"If I go steal all the catnip and treats from Walmart for you? Then can we go? I literally can fit an infinite number of things in my backpack, and the Walmart employees are not paid enough to care if the shelves are completely empty the next morning."

[televised-goose]

My personality is homoerotic 2010s media cause they were really cooking then.

[sparksly-mage-of-light]

I don't know if anyone else will get this reference, but whenever fic writers describe Jerry's drawer as this never-ending space of seemingly infinite clutter, it reminds me of the show Warehouse 13.

[yuesya]

Mechamaru is a sad character, even though his anger at Shiki, to me, is honestly misplaced and more like self-loathing, envy, and commiseration.

It’s honestly sad what happens to Mechamaru because he did get the short end of the stick when it comes to Heavenly Restriction, didn’t he? He only wanted to have a healthy body, and in canon, he got it.

But what did it cost, really?

Because in the end, Mechamaru did in some way betray the jujutsu sorcerers. He can tell himself that he was desperate and he had the right to try and better his life when no one else cared to or was able to help him. He was in a shitty situation and tried fixing it first chance that presented it, but it doesn’t erase the fact that he betrayed his comrades. He indirectly (?)aided in the tragedy that happened by facitilating information to the curses, which HELPED Kenjaku’s plans, and he died for it. Here, he’s alive to suffer the consequences of ill-fated choices.

He wasn’t wrong to want it. He’s wrong because ultimately, his actions were an act of betrayal.

He feels remorse for his betrayal. He feels guilty. He feels angry at Shiki, because his gamble failed and here she stood as a shining bastion of a “perfect” life.

Though as seen in here, Shiki probably doesn’t give a single fuck about Mechamaru’s feelings. Only that his betrayal put the jujutsu society - and in turn, her family and friends - in jeopardy and that it went against the rules that Shiki was following ONLY because her family and friends wanted her too. Her moral and logic is pretty skewed, after all. Her first reaction to him being turned into a monster is to render him immobile VIA limbs breaking which honestly is NOT the first thing people do, but it’s admittedly in a twisted way the most optimal way to subdue transfigurated!Mechamaru.

TBH wrong is wrong. Betrayal is betrayal. Mechamaru isn’t an innocent victim who tried saving himself. How many more people would die and did die in the jujutsu world because he aided the curses? How many people died in Liyue because here the curses tried getting rid of Shiki?

Which brings me to another point: Whether it was voluntary or not, because of his betrayal which fed the curses informations and had Shiki hunting after them, Mechamaru ended up as a tool in the ambush against Shiki. Mahito tried using him as a shield, but unfortunately for him and the curses, Shiki’s reasoning is far too settled in pragmatic reasoning and logic to a certain point, after which she settled into brute force or death. She wouldn’t sacrifice herself for just Mechamaru, after all, nor be squirmish about breaking some limbs or killing some people.

Kinda shameless to be angry at the girl who you involuntarily aided in ambushing, no?

It’s just. The first time I read the short about Mechamaru (which was STILL amazing btw) I felt sorry for him.

The next few times I reread it though, I was like wait a minute, this doesn’t sound right, this guy is making Shiki to be the bad guy in interrogating him when he “just tried helping himself and he didn’t truly mean to betray the jujutsu society qwq!!!” because she has a perfect life but BITCH so many people just died LMFAOO Shiki here just doing her job and being hated, my poor girl (though she doesn’t care).

Mechamaru lost his gamble in using Mahito and turned into an even worse monster.

Likewise, the curses lost their gamble in trying to delete Shiki and were all basically wiped out in minutes lmao. They probably didn’t expect the Gojo Satoru Expy to actually be a Gojo Satoru 2.0 lol.

Shiki just doing her job, stuck in another world. :( And she had promised her cousin to make a detour to buy sweets, too rip. :(

(which brings me to another point i’m not gonna expand: Satoru and Shiki’s relationship? I LOVELOVELOVE IT!! The opposing powers they present! Satoru is not truly the sole “honored one”! Satoru has someone who somewhat understands the way he looks at the world! Who will stand by his decision and trust! Who’s willing to murder a bitch or a few for him! They’re two peas in a pod, sometimes HE has to be the moral compass for Shiki even! HIM! THE Gojo Satoru! A moral compass!!! 😂😂😂)

!! I am bouncing a bit in excitement from this haha.

Mechamaru! Is a very very unfortunate character. His attempt to outsmart Kenjaku and the Special Grade curses was not something that ended well for anyone. The information that he provided them allowed Kenjaku's faction to set up the test run at the Goodwill Event and break into the warehouse, stealing the Death Paintings and Sukuna's fingers. If we think about what happened in Shibuya, where Sukuna was able to cause as much devastation as he did because of ingesting the additional fingers... arguably Mechamaru played a definite role in allowing this situation to occur in the first place.

Mechamaru wants to be healed. He wants to have a normal body, and be a normal student of Kyoto High with his friends.

In exchange, he betrays the school -but he's not really betraying them, Mechamaru tells himself. Look, he's even been careful enough to extract a binding vow for his friends to be unharmed. And it's not as if he really intends to throw in his lot with Geto. As soon as he gets what he wants, he'll turn on them. Mechamaru doesn't need to kill them in order to win; all he needs to do is escape and find sanctuary with Gojo Satoru. And with the intel that he'll have in his hands, Gojo will definitely protect him. Then, they'll be able to counter their enemies properly from there-

We all know how that turns out in the end, though. The many casualties that result from Kenjaku's plans... Mechamaru might not be responsible, but he's certainly not blameless in allowing Kenjaku to set things into motion.

Mechamaru strikes me as a character who has a strong confidence and ego, which is balanced at the same time by a helpless sense of inferiority and anger. He knows that he's a powerful sorcerer, and he's the only sorcerer whose range covers an entire country -not even Gojo Satoru can do that! And Mechamaru is observant, and intelligent. He hates the limitations imposed upon him by his body, and he wants ever so badly to see for himself the world that he can only interact with through his puppets-

Shiki gets the brunt of that, in this particular AU.

Mechamaru lives. He lives, but he's angry and guilty and oh how he regrets, without truly regretting. Sorcerers are selfish creatures, and Mechamaru is no different.

Here Gojo Shiki stands in front of him, beautiful and powerful and perfect, looking down on him like Mechamaru means absolutely nothing. Given the turmoil that Mechamaru is currently experiencing... it's only natural that he lashes out at her.

(It's no excuse. But it is a reason.)

In contrast to Mechamaru's complicated feelings towards her, Shiki is fairly indifferent about him in return, despite his role as a lure in the 'ambush' for her. She simply protects him because she was assigned to retrieve Mechamaru for an interrogation. Shiki can't retrieve him if he's dead.

... So that just means she'll need to do her best to keep him alive, until she manages to find a way home.

[garr9988]

For a show run by a gay man (Jack Kenny) who is a decade-plus longtime friend of the male lead actor (Eddie McClintock) who is himself very comfortable with his sexuality and presentation and making gay jokes, AND has an openly gay male character (Steve Jinks), albeit played by a straight actor (Aaron Ashmore),

Warehouse 13 is surprisingly chaste (dare I say, unbearably dry) with its male fanservice.

[drag-on-dragoon]

im so fascinated by the nugu MV shoot location roster like is it some specific circuit of filming locations that pander to nugus or does everyone use them but only nugus lack the budget to disguise them...

[its-vishnu-stuff]

Automated Pallet Counting AI Solutions - Innodatatics

A sophisticated technical tool known as an automated pallet counting system is employed in warehouses and distribution centers to enhance and expedite inventory management procedures. Pallet counting, a laborious task, is precisely and efficiently automated by this system through the utilization of advanced sensors, cameras, and software algorithms. This automation not only reduces manual errors but also conserves critical time and resources, providing rapid visibility into inventory levels through real-time data collection. The solution seamlessly integrates with existing inventory management systems, facilitating easy data synchronization and analysis

[zestyderg]

MOOTS AREN'T LOOKING POST CORRUPTED JOE‐

Lola could hear the almost inaudible thumping of bare feet against the hard concrete floor of the warehouse, sometimes accompanied by gentle scraping of sharp claws. Within her cardboard sanctuary, the former admin did her best to quiet her breathing. She was surrounded by a lightless forest of boxes, and she considered herself hidden well enough to be confident that as long as she remained silent, Joe would give up and leave.

The cowboy was getting closer, Lola knew it. She remained as still as her body would allow, listening to her boss's soft, animalistic croons and rumblings as he searched for her.

Then the footfalls ceased. Lola could hear Joe begin to sniff.

Sniff??

The warehouse didn't have a particularly strong smell...

Unless...

He was trying to sniff her out...

That made Lola a bit more anxious. If boss could smell her, then hiding here was just about useless, a major bummer for her and her friends.

Lola nearly jumped seeing something slither into view, right in front of the opening to her hiding box.

A tendril of sorts, its surface swirling with different shades of a dark purple, the movement akin to the winds of a cyclone. It glowed faintly, but not enough for Lola to really see beyond her temporary hideout. It slowly explored all empty space in front of it, and just before it shifted to feel around Lola's box, Lola could only think one thing:

WHAT THE FUCK

[roseverdict]

Normally this would be the part where I put the title of the fic, but for Pacing Reasons I'm not gonna yet. Yeehaw.

In the year 2012, in a universe where adult mutant ninja turtles have an impressive world-saving resume dating back to when they were just teenagers, Mikey has a scheduled patrol as his part-time hero persona, the Turtle Titan.

In the year 2018, in a universe where magic is always plucking at the edges of the world and where a supernatural library serves as both a pillar of reality and a safe place for powerful magical artifacts, the staff of that very library all look forward to what will hopefully be an uneventful day with no danger of any kind.

It sure would be a shame if an old enemy from someplace adjacent to the turtles turned up alive, well, and ready to cause multidimensional trouble.

The Turtle Titan is an official member of the Justice Force! Of course, I'm only on duty every third Wednesday of every fourth month. And February 29th... when there is one.

- Michelangelo Splinterson, TMNT 2003 S5E6 "Membership Drive"

(You can also read on AO3 if that's your thing! I do a little fiddling with work skins in that one too so it'll look a smidge different at one specific part :D)

〜

"Where is it you are going in such a hurry, my son?"

Mikey paused in the middle of his mad dash for the lair's entrance, his superhero gear halfway between "in his arms" and "in place on his body." "It's February 29th, Sensei, so the Turtle Titan is on patrol tonight."

Splinter's eyebrows rose, and his ears fell back down from an alert position. "Ah, I see. Well, don't let this old rat keep you."

Mikey quickly wrangled his gear the rest of the way on, and the Turtle Titan gave his father a quick, tight hug. "I'll kick plenty of shell, don't worry."

"That, at least, has never been a fear of mine," chuckled Splinter, patting the Turtle Titan's shell before releasing him.

There came a distant yelp of frustration from Raph, and the Turtle Titan snickered and darted off. "Be back in the morning!"

"MIKEY, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU-!"

"Love you too, Raphy!" called the Turtle Titan over his shoulder as he sprinted away, Raph's sais stuck in his belt right where he'd stashed them next to his nunchaku.

He left Raph's annoyance behind with a spring in his step, and he took the first opportunity he could get to hop topside and take to the rooftops. The Turtle Titan didn't need to hide in the shadows, not like Michelangelo Splinterson still did; the Turtle Titan was a known member of the Justice Force and someone people would be happy to see!

After the whole Time Travel Mess Of 2005-And-Or-2105, Mikey'd had an idea, though; if the Turtle Titan could be accepted so quickly, and if he and his brothers were supposed to wind up accepted by society by the turn of the century, then maybe the Turtle Titan was at least one reason why the Splintersons were able to walk around under the sun a hundred years into the future.

Man, his life was weird.

The Turtle Titan gave himself a little shake and started his run to Meeting Point Delta-Omega- or rather, the roof of the pizza place on Laird Avenue that had opened up a few years back.

His patrol partner was already there by the time he showed up, and the Turtle Titan broke into a grin. "Nano! How's it hanging, Squirt?"

Nano turned to greet him, a grin of his own on his metallic face. "I am still seven inches taller than you, Turtle Titan."

"Six-point-nine inches, and I'm still gonna catch up to you one of these days!" The Turtle Titan wagged his finger at Nano with a smirk. "It's my prerogative as your cool older brother-ish to butt heads with you on this, remember?"

"Don't you mean 'butt your head against my armored shoulder?'" asked Nano too-innocently.

The Turtle Titan cackled and gave Nano's back a hearty smack. "You've learned well, my padawan!"

Nano chuckled with him, then gestured out towards the rest of the city with his head. "Shall we commence patrol?"

"Sure thing, Tiny!" The Turtle Titan charged over the edge of the roof with a whoop, his grappling hook whirring as it yanked him up to the neighboring rooftop.

Nano lifted off and flew after him, and the two of them spent the first ten, maybe fifteen minutes of their shift in amicable silence, save for occasionally dropping in to stop a mugging or a bank heist they happened across.

Then Nano turned to the Turtle Titan on an empty rooftop and asked, "Wasn't the Foot Clan HQ abandoned in 2010?"

The Turtle Titan blinked, and Mikey turned a grim look to Nano. "Yeah, as far as we know. After that whole thing with too many Shredders and the multiverse almost collapsing back in '09, Karai said she was gonna have the Foot 'go back to their roots' or something. Why do you ask?"

"Because there seems to be a massive influx of energy at the top of the building," said Nano, pointing over Mikey's shoulder.

Mikey whirled around, his Turtle Titan cape swishing behind him, and he immediately caught sight of the ball of sickly energy crackling right where Nano said it would be.

"Oooooh, Mikey no likey," said he with a grimace.

The two of them shot off for the allegedly-abandoned skyscraper without another word.

There was no motion at the base- at least, not outside the usual late-night NYC traffic- and there were no lights on inside or silhouettes in the windows.

The only light came from the crackling ball of energy on what had once been the helipad.

And right as he and Nano landed on the outermost part of the roof, even the crackling ball of energy fell dim.

And

Mikey

froze.

The person standing in the middle of the array of machinery that decidedly did not belong there wasn't human, turtle, AI, or even space alien.

The person standing in the middle of the array of machinery that decidedly did not belong there was a rat that he'd last seen either less than an hour prior or the better part of a decade ago, depending on one's point of view.

The Sliver looked somehow more unkempt than the last time Mikey had seen him, with his warlord getup hanging on by a thread and his overachieving mane of fur matted in places that Splinter had never allowed to go unwashed on his own body, even in Mikey's earliest memories. Mikey would even dare to say he looked mangy.

The Sliver hadn't seemed to have noticed Mikey or Nano yet, preoccupied with taking stock of himself as he was.

At the edges of his vision, using the prototype messaging system Donny had put together as a favor for the Justice Force that Mikey kept in his Turtle Titan hood, Nano asked, You know him?

Mikey nodded grimly and subtly reached for his left glove, typing back a response: the whole Thing back in 09 wasnt my first or only brush with the multiverse. meet an evil version of my dad from a universe where my bros and me fill the role of the justice force- the Sliver. last i saw him, he was supposed to be dead, and good riddance tbqfh.

Nano's jaw hardened.

The Sliver brought a hand to his head with a groan as he pushed himself to his feet, lit brightly enough by the machinery around him that it was child's play for Mikey (in his dark Turtle Titan gear) and Nano (quickly camouflaging to the dim hues of the city below) to sneak around and get a good look at the main screen of the hodgepodge of metal the Sliver had brought with him.

At its center, there sat an oldsy-timesy compass-looking thing with a generic plane shape in place of a needle, and as the duo watched, the outer rim slowed from a wild whirling to something more easily legible, showing…a completely normal compass rim thingy.

Mikey really wished Donny was there to help identify whatever the thingy was. Heck, Leo knew enough about solo navigation that he might have had an idea.

Honestly, any of his brothers would have been a blessing right then.

He'd needed his brothers' alternates and his own to even pull the wool over the Sliver's eyes last time, and while he was several years wiser nowadays, so was the Sliver.

"Yes…yes! I am close!" the Sliver chuckled darkly as he interpreted the display. "I am finally in the correct great dimensional tree!"

What is he talking about?

well, given how he was trying to bring his sons to the dark side or kill them for refusing when we presumedly ended up killing him last time, id bet he's trying to get back for revenge reasons or something

*Presumably.

Mikey let his lips twitch into a little grin at Nano's correction before flattening them out again.

he had a machine that would eradicate all life except those lives within a specific area when i first fought him, it was a last-ditch effort to force me and my bros' counterparts to join him. we reversed it to keep the rest of the dimension from being killed, but if he was able to build it once, he could proabbly build it again

*Probably.

And if he gets back to his home dimension, he most likely will.

exactamundo. quick rundown: the alt turtles each had specific powers, but the sliver has all of them- electricity, super strength/size-changing, the ability to turn to goop/shapeshift, and grav manip. ntm he's like. THE Expert on the things. it took all five turtles including me to beat him- we're GONNA want backup.

Mikey and Nano shared a nod, and as Nano sounded the alarm back with the rest of the Force, Mikey let himself fall back into the Turtle Titan and streak forward, actually landing a hit on the Sliver's jaw.

"GAH-!" The Sliver stumbled back, but swatted the Turtle Titan away before he could attack a second time. Only once he seemingly realized what he'd done did he whirl on the Turtle Titan with a snarl. "It cannot be!"

"Can be and is!" The Turtle Titan ground out, matching the Sliver's snarl with a mirthless smirk. "Didja miss me, Slivvy? Admit it, you missed me."

"So this is your homeworld, puny ninja," mused the Sliver. "Perhaps I might stay long enough to teach you a lesson that evaded my own sons!"

He lunged, and the Turtle Titan brought his shield up to bear, catching most of the Sliver's assault against its surface and deflecting the rest to one side. As the Sliver stumbled, the Turtle Titan rushed him, intent on trying to knock him out or something-

-and a goopy green arm slammed squarely into the Turtle Titan's chest, even seeping slightly through his supersuit and reaching the plates of his plastron with a deathly chill.

The Turtle Titan squawked as he was knocked away, barely managing to remember to grab the edge of the rooftop before he flew clean over.

"TURTLE TITAN!"

Nano's panicked shout preceded a heavy thwack and a pained snarl from the Sliver, and the Turtle Titan hauled himself back onto the roof with minimal leg-kicking just in time to watch the Sliver smirk viciously at Nano. "Ah, so the weak little ninja brought a friend to play, did he?"

"If you want to call us apprehending you 'playing,' then yes!" Nano feinted as if to go for a quick kick to the Sliver's side, then hurled himself the opposite direction and slapped his hand against the side of the control panel.

Nothing visibly happened, but the Turtle Titan bit back a knowing smirk as he charged the Sliver again. He couldn't very well let the supervillain have enough time to figure out what Nano was doing, after all. "Usually we're supposed to schedule a playdate, Slivvy, and you're supposed to get my dad's permission!"

His shield-slam went wide as the Sliver leapt up into the air, hovering there for a moment before shooting back down, foot-first.

If asked later, Mikey would truthfully say that he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten from a worm's-eye view of the Sliver's heel to caught up in some sort of goopy cocoon. However, he'd be willing to wager a guess that the Sliver had kicked him in the head hard enough to knock him out for a few crucial seconds.

He'd just call it a hunch.

The Sliver was in the middle of saying something by the time Mikey- no, no, he was still on the job- by the time the Turtle Titan realized he was trapped. "-not allow you to interfere!"

Some of the metal behind the Sliver started to move, and the Turtle Titan cracked a vicious grin. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're a bit late for that."

A haphazard metal fist with fingers twice as long as the Turtle Titan was tall came slamming down onto the platform, only missing the Sliver by the teensiest fraction of a second as he dodged.

"I would like to offer you a word of advice," called Nano from his place next to the control panel, a shimmer of silvery-yellow nanobots flowing from where his hand touched the panel and into the Sliver's machine. "Do not build weapons of mass destruction out of the same kind of thing your enemies are made of."

The metal fist lifted and came down again, this time splattering the goopy arm holding the Turtle Titan in place. The Turtle Titan quickly began flinging the goo off of himself while the Sliver recoiled and reconstituted his fur-covered arm out of what goop he had left.

(Something in the back of the Turtle Titan's mind snapped to attention: the Sliver hadn't had any issues with separated goop when last they'd met.)

"ENOUGH!" thundered the Sliver, lightning crackling from his opposite hand as he slapped it to the floor-

"NANO, PULL BACK-!" The Turtle Titan screamed, already running for his patrol partner-

-and Nano shrieked as the electricity overloaded his systems, the metal fist creaking to a halt halfway above the ground and Nano's main body convulsing by the control panel, sparks flying from every seam, joint, and outward-facing component-thingy.

The Turtle Titan bodily tackled Nano off the Sliver's platform, the two of them tumbling a short ways to the edge of the roof before coming to a stop, Nano still twitching but blessedly not shrieking in bloodcurdling agony.

"I have more important business to attend than dealing with a ninja playing dress-up!" growled the Sliver, rushing to the control panel and flipping switches along its sides.

There came the whine of power building up at the edges of the Turtle Titan's hearing, and he felt his heart stop.

"Nano, Nano, Nano, c'mon, wake up, dude-!"

"I-I am aw-wake," mumbled Nano with a shake of his head, his voice skipping and starting ever-so-slightly as he sat up. After a second or so, though, his eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. "The Sliver-! He's-!"

"Yeah," said the Turtle Titan grimly, getting to his own feet. "Somebody needs to take him down, but we can't just disappear without any explanation."

"Turtle Titan, you stay," Nano decided. "I have a backup at HQ-"

"And it won't change the fact that you'll be lost to the multiverse if you can't get back!" The Turtle Titan tugged him back and started trudging for the Sliver's machine. "My family and me at least have the whole chi-meditation thing going for us-!"

"But what if it does not function as interdimensional communication, Turtle Titan?!" demanded Nano, yanking him away and leaping back onto the platform.

The Turtle Titan scowled and jumped after him, grabbing his arm and spinning to chuck him to safety. "Don't make me exercise my rights as the older brother-ish-!"

-and Nano screamed as the nanobots of his arm were forcefully disconnected from the main mass of his systems, which went tumbling to the corner of the helipad before finally coming to a stop.

The dimensional travel machine, the Sliver, and the Turtle Titan were nowhere to be found.

Nano felt dread pool in his processors. "This is not going to end well, is it?"

〜

In a place that was everywhere and nowhere at once, the Turtle Titan screamed as a wall of light severed Nano's arm and sent both him and the arm tumbling back into the "safe zone" of the machine.

"NO! You'll throw off the calculations, you FOOL!" the Sliver howled, already going to swipe at the Turtle Titan with an elongated, goopy arm.

The Turtle Titan dodged away from the attack, and as Nano's arm started reassembling into- what was that, a gauntlet?- around his non-shield hand, he flung the shield into one of the important-looking bits of tech, sending sparks flying. "All according to plan, you walking offense to dads everywhere!"

The Sliver roared and charged him again, and he nearly bowled the Turtle Titan over entirely. It was all the Turtle Titan could do to grab onto a piece of metal sticking out at an odd angle and hang on for dear life as-

-"Now the eye's back! Now the hand! THE EEEYYYEEE!"-

-all he could see was an ever-growing mass of turtles-

-"I thought he said 'squirrel' formation!"-

-they extended out to infinity in every direction in blues and reds and purples and oranges-

-"Doctor Delicate Touch feels nothing."-

-they extended out forever-!

-and a metal something-or-other slammed into the back of the Turtle Titan's throat, making him flinch and lurch back to relatively solid ground, coughing and hacking to get the whatever-it-was out of him.

The onslaught of voices went slightly quieter around him, with one of the voices yelling about somebody being "super fly" before fading into the masses.

"You…" hissed the Sliver. "You are lucky you do not send us careening out of the great terrapin dimensional tree!"

The Turtle Titan finally managed to hork up the thingy- some kind of jewelry, for reasons beyond him- and stowed it in his utility belt for the time being. "Me? Lucky? Perish the thought!"

"Indeed! Look around you, foolish ninja!" The Sliver broke into a downright dastardly smirk, holding his hands out to gesture grandly at their surroundings.

Surroundings which, as the Turtle Titan watched, were slowly becoming more and more solid and more and more like the Shell of Justice that he'd visited all those years prior.

"Oh, shell!" he breathed.

"Shell, indeed! Shell of Justice, indeed!" The Sliver began cackling louder and louder.

An alarm sounded in the Shell of Justice, but the Turtle Titan just turned to the Sliver and lunged.

The Sliver's head met the control panel of his device at the same moment that the superturtles came running into view, and the Turtle Titan could only manage a brief wave of greeting before the world around them erupted back into a whirlwind of color and light.

He shoved the Sliver along the control panel, setting off buttons and bells and whistles he hadn't even known were there, and the blues and reds and purples and oranges all flared into minty green with a deafening shriek before being replaced by an unfamiliar star-like pale yellow.

The Sliver shrieked in rage, and he probably said something as he did, but the Turtle Titan couldn't make it out over the worrying creaking of the dimension-jumping machine, the two arches crossed over their heads beginning to visibly warp.

The Turtle Titan's footing slipped, and he had to grab onto a metal outcropping one more time or risk being lost to the-

-"Welcome to endless wonder."-

-there weren't any turtles-

-"Let's go steal a-"

-why weren't there any turtles-

"-the Serpent Brotherhood from-"

-he'd thought the multiverse would collapse without any turtles-

-and the whirlwind vanished from all around him, leaving him with only the natural laws of physics spinning him, the machine, and the Sliver in circles as they plummeted from a clear blue sky.

"YOU IMBECILE!" the Sliver shrieked as they fell. "We are further now than I have ever been!"

The Turtle Titan hauled himself back onto the platform, pulling against the spinny force threatening to chuck him clear across the sky if he slipped. "Sucks to be you then, huh?"

The Sliver snapped his teeth furiously at the Turtle Titan, but then his eyes widened and he leapt from the platform entirely.

The Turtle Titan only managed to see the approaching sea, process that it was getting scary close, scary fast, and take the deepest breath he'd ever taken in his life before he and the Sliver's machine crash-landed into the ocean in a splash big enough that it would probably make for breaking news in a few minutes.

If this dimension even had the concept of breaking news, anyway.

As the Turtle Titan made sure what little he had of Nano hadn't shorted out in the water, and as he pushed away from the machine and started swimming for a promising-looking sewer-like tunnel in the distance, he wondered idly in the back of his mind-

-where exactly might the news of their crash-landing break first?

〜

In the annex of a library accessible from a bridge in Portland, Oregon, a book began to glow an almost panicked pale yellow, and the caretaker of the annex couldn't quite shove down the grimace that rose to his face.

"And here I thought we might, just possibly, have a quiet day."

[fuckyeah-beringandwellsfics]

The Thought That Counts

submitted by: anonymous

The Thought That Counts (802 words) by @itsophelia Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Warehouse 13 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells Additional Tags: Christmas Summary: Helena discovers Myka haphazardly wrapping Christmas presents, and tries to make things easier for her. One shot.

Please tell us why you like this fic so much!

Hahaha! and Aww Helena! She is still catching up with those 100 years and it's adorable

---

Remember that you can submit fics to be featured here, too! Here's the link to the submission form (Google Form)!

[danysdaughter]

Hold Your Breath

pairing | civil!war!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 6.6k words (whoopsie)

summary I After a panic attack triggers something raw and vulnerable in Bucky, a desperate kiss turns into a night of urgent, clothed intimacy where he clings to you for grounding, connection, and humanity.

tags | 18+, (MDNI!), p in v sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, emotional sex, desperate sex, riding, dry humping, titty sucking, begging, subby!bucky, soft!reader, angst, soft dom!reader, vulnerable!bucky, slow burn to sudden burn, hurt/comfort, PANIC ATTACK! platonic!steve x reader, oh and PLOT! but premises: Fuck His Pain Away

a/n | THIS MIGHT BE THE FILTHIEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN. uh, Matt Murdock cameo. and Steve and reader lowkey act romantic but they're purely platonic. inspired by THE Stiles and Lydia. ENJOY!

likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ — ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

divider by @cafekitsune

The warehouse looked like it had been forgotten by time. Rust flaked off corrugated walls, the windows long since caked in grime and dust. Faint light filtered in through the cracks in the ceiling, catching on floating particles like a snowstorm of ash.

You stepped through the open door slowly, your heeled boots echoing softly against the concrete floor. The weight of silence sat thick in the air—one broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional creak of aging steel. Sam stood off to the side, posted up by a boarded window, his eyes scanning the outside world like a hawk. Ironic.

He gave you a short nod in greeting, then jerked his chin toward the stairwell.

“He’s upstairs. With him.”

You nodded silently, then started climbing. Each step was slow, heavy with things unsaid. You reached the upper landing and paused at the threshold of a dim corridor, where you finally saw him.

Steve Rogers.

He was leaning against the doorframe to a room that looked like it had once been an office, now stripped bare. His arms were folded, his head slightly bowed, lost in thought. The sharp angles of his jaw were drawn tight, his eyes shadowed with more than fatigue.

He looked tired—drawn in a way you rarely saw. Shoulders too tight. Worry clinging to him like a second skin.

And yet the moment he looked up and saw you, something in his face unspooled.

“You came,” he said, voice low, thick.

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “Where else would I be?”

Steve gave a dry little exhale. “I don’t know. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.”

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” you said.

He nodded once, but didn’t move from the door. The weight of the air between you stretched.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

You straightened, gaze steady. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. You don’t have to ask.”

“I do.” His jaw flexed, eyes flicking away. “Because I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. We’re stretched thin. And Bucky… he’s not in a good place.”

“I know,” you said, voice gentler now. “Steve, I know. I’m not scared of him.”

He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face, tension radiating from every inch of him. “I’m not either. That’s not it. It’s just—he’s been through so much. He barely speaks. Sometimes I think he’s back—my Bucky—but then I see that look in his eyes and I don’t even know who I’m looking at.”

You took a step forward, heart aching.

“You’re worried he’ll hurt someone.”

Steve didn’t answer right away. His mouth pressed into a tight line.

Then, almost too softly: “I’m worried he’ll hurt himself.”

That cracked something inside you. You reached out, fingers curling gently around his arm.

“Then I’ll be here,” you said, firm and calm. “I’ll sit with him through it. However long it takes.”

Steve looked at you, truly looked, and you could see it then—how much weight he was carrying. And how close he was to shattering under it.

“There’s more,” he said after a moment, voice even lower.

You nodded. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, like he didn’t know if he should. Then—quietly, brokenly—he said, “I don’t know what’s happening to us. The Avengers. The world. It used to feel like we were fighting for something good. Something that meant something. Now… it just feels like we’re tearing apart.”

You let his words hang in the air. Let him breathe. Then you stepped closer.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whispered.

But Steve shook his head. Slowly. Distantly.

“I don’t think it will be.”

There was something so human about him in that moment. Not the Captain. Not the soldier. Just a man who’d lived too long, lost too much, and still hadn’t learned how to stop hoping—even when it hurt.

He looked at you—really looked at you. The intensity in his eyes bordered on overwhelming. But what you saw there wasn’t fear. It was trust. Worn, heavy, aching trust.

“You can back out at any point,” he said, voice rough. “If it’s too much. If he—”

“I’m here,” you interrupted softly, a small smile blooming. “And I’m here to stay.”

Steve stared at you for a moment longer, then—without warning—you stepped in and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He folded into you immediately, arms winding tightly around your waist like the weight of the world was something he could put down, just for a second, if he held onto you.

His breath was warm against your hair.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice frayed at the edges. “For being here. For me.”

Your fingers curled at his nape, anchoring him. “Always.”

When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist. The kind of touch that said, I can’t ask for more, but I’d be lost without this.

You gave his hand a final squeeze, then watched as he turned and opened the door to where Bucky waited.

The door clicked shut behind Steve with a soft finality.

Bucky sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was damp from where he’d splashed water on his face earlier. There was still blood crusted in his hairline from the fight in Bucharest. He hadn’t spoken in hours—not really. Just a grunt here and there when Steve checked on him.

The room was dark and cold, lit only by a single bulb hanging overhead, flickering just enough to be annoying. Dust danced in the light. The walls were bare. There was a thin mattress pushed into the corner and not much else.

He could hear someone talking outside. A familiar voice. And a softer one.

Then footsteps. Boots against concrete.

He didn’t look up when Steve entered.

Steve took a breath and crossed the floor slowly. He didn’t say anything at first, didn’t try to force conversation.

He just sat, giving Bucky space to choose.

"You holding up?" Steve finally asked.

Bucky shrugged. His metal fingers flexed slightly. “Still breathing.”

It took another minute before Bucky spoke again, voice hoarse, low.

“You’re leaving.”

Steve nodded. “Not for long.”

Bucky lifted his head, the shadows under his eyes deeper than ever. “Where?”

“Sam and I need to pull some others in. It’s moving fast.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But I’m not leaving you alone.”

Bucky’s mouth tightened slightly. “You’re not?”

“No.” Steve gave him a look. “She’s staying.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “The woman outside.”

Steve smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Bucky paused, then asked—carefully, cautiously—“That your girl?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at the floor. “No. God, no. She’s… she’s just a friend.”

“Doesn’t sound like ‘just a friend,’” Bucky muttered.

“She’s just my friend,” Steve said again.

Bucky studied him for a long moment, the gears clearly turning behind his tired eyes. “You trust her.”

“With my life.”

“And you’re leaving her with me.” That wasn’t a question. That was Bucky quietly testing the weight of what Steve was asking.

“I’m not leaving her with you like she’s a babysitter,” Steve said, voice firm but warm. “She offered. Because she cares. Because she’s kind. And because she’s not afraid of you.”

Bucky’s head dropped slightly. “That’s a mistake.”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “It’s not. You’re not the man Hydra turned you into.”

“You sure?”

Steve stood slowly, walking over to the window, eyes scanning the alleyway below. “Yes and she’ll be here when you need her. Whether you like it or not.”

Bucky grunted. “Sounds annoying.”

Steve chuckled. “You’ll get used to her.”

He moved to the door but paused with his hand on the knob. “Bucky?”

He looked up.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve said again, softer this time. “But I do care about her. She’ll look after you. Let her.”

Bucky stayed quiet for a long moment, watching his friend’s back. The silence stretched.

Then, quietly, “She got a name?”

Steve turned back to him with a small, knowing smile. “Ask her yourself.”

Silence stretched. The tension in Bucky’s shoulders didn’t ease, but something in his eyes flickered. Not quite trust. But maybe curiosity.

────────────────────────

Outside, you were waiting patiently, arms folded, gaze flicking down the hallway as he approached. You gave him a questioning look.

“How’d it go?”

“He asked if you were my girl.”

You blinked, then laughed softly. “That’s a first.”

“I told him no. Just a loyal, stubborn friend.”

You nudged his arm. “Stubborn’s a little rude.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

He gave you a final, grateful look—the kind that carried years of friendship in one glance—then disappeared down the stairwell, leaving you standing in the dim hallway outside Bucky’s room.

You inhaled slowly, squared your shoulders, and turned toward the door.

The door creaked softly as you stepped inside.

The air inside was still—almost unnaturally so. Dim light filtered through the cracked blinds, casting lines of gold across the worn floorboards. The mattress sat low to the ground, old and bare, and on it sat a man who looked more like a memory than a presence.

Bucky didn’t look up right away.

He was perched on the edge of the mattress like he didn’t know what to do with his body. Shoulders squared. Hands resting on his knees. The metal one glinting faintly under the weak light. He didn’t move as you entered, didn’t speak—just turned and looked at you as if you might explode if he blinked.

His face was as unreadable as you'd expected. Blank. Cold. Not hostile, just... emptied out.

Still, you offered him the softest smile you could manage.

“Hi,” you said softly, introducing yourself.

No reaction. Not even a flinch.

You took a step forward, slow and steady, keeping your voice warm. “Steve asked me to check in on you.”

Still nothing. But he hadn’t asked you to leave either

“I’m not here to watch you,” you spoke, stepping forward slowly, palms open, posture relaxed. “Not like that. I’m just here if you need anything.”

Silence.

But his eyes followed you, blue and unreadable.

“I’m not an agent or anything,” you added. “But I figured a quiet face wouldn’t hurt.”

His gaze dropped back to the floor.

Your eyes drifted to the gash above his eyebrow again. The skin around it looked irritated. Dry blood had trailed down his temple, now flaked and cracking.

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured. “Your forehead.”

He blinked once. No acknowledgment. Just the same blank stare.

You nodded slightly to yourself, then crossed to the nearby table where Steve had left a bottle of water, some basic medical supplies. You grabbed a cloth and dampened it gently.

When you returned, you paused beside him.

“Can I…?” you asked gently, holding up the cloth just slightly. “Take care of that?”

There was a long pause. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes—suspicion, uncertainty, maybe even something like confusion.

Then he gave a small, stiff nod.

You didn’t sit on the mattress beside him. That felt too close. Instead, you knelt down on the floor, leveling yourself just enough to reach him, and held the cloth delicately in your fingers.

“Okay,” you said, mostly to fill the silence. “This might be a little cold.”

You dabbed gently at the gash on his forehead, careful not to apply too much pressure. The dried blood flaked away slowly under your touch. You worked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the cloth against his skin and the hush of your own breath.

Bucky didn’t flinch.

But he watched you.

Close. Unblinking.

Like he was trying to find the trick in your movements. Waiting for the shift—when the care would curdle into expectation. Or interrogation. Or pity.

But you just kept working, your touch steady, your face calm.

After a long moment, he finally spoke—voice low and rough, like unused gravel.

“You an Avenger?”

It caught you a little off guard, but you smiled faintly, not stopping your work.

“Not at all,” you said. “Maybe honorary. I just help Steve out. Here and there.”

You wiped the last of the blood from his temple, then lowered the cloth.

“But mostly,” you added with a small shrug, “I stick to New York.”

He was still staring at you. His brow twitched slightly. “Doing what?”

You chuckled, folding the cloth neatly in your lap. “I’m a lawyer.”

The expression on his face shifted for the first time—just a flicker, but there. His eyes narrowed slightly. Disbelieving, “A lawyer?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

His look said it before his lips did.

What the hell are you doing here?

You didn’t need him to ask.

You met his gaze—steady, warm, sure.

“A lawyer that knows right from wrong,” you said simply.

The room fell quiet again.

He stared at you like he was trying to see the catch—trying to spot where the kindness ended and the judgment began.

It didn’t come.

“I’m just here to help,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You stayed kneeling for a few more moments, wringing the bloodied cloth between your fingers, giving him space even while sitting right in front of him.

Bucky still hadn’t moved.

He just watched you. Not with suspicion exactly—more like quiet observation, like he was still figuring out what you were.

You gave him a moment, then sat back on your heels and rested your arms on your knees.

“So,” you started gently, as if you were just catching up with someone over coffee, “Steve said you were from Brooklyn.”

His eyes didn’t move.

You waited a beat. Nothing.

“I’m from Hell’s Kitchen,” you added, offering a half-smile.

Still nothing. But something in his eyes flickered. Just barely.

“Grew up around a lot of noise,” you went on, your voice soft but casual. “Corner bodegas. Fire escapes. People yelling out their windows at four in the morning.”

Another pause. You risked glancing at him again.

Still no words. But his gaze lingered now. Slightly more engaged.

“I used to go up on the roof with a book and just... tune it all out,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory. “Never worked. Some jackass was always blasting Sinatra or arguing about Mets scores.”

You caught a flicker at that—almost a breath of amusement in his expression. Almost.

“Guess Brooklyn wasn’t so different back then, huh?”

Still silence.

But now, he was looking at you—not through you.

You shrugged, eyes gentle. “Anyway. Just figured I’d try to talk. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

His eyes finally dropped to the floor again, but his shoulders had eased. A fraction.

You added, “And if it helps at all… I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

That got you a flicker of eye contact again.

You smiled, soft and unbothered. “And you, from the looks of it, don’t talk unless you absolutely have to. So, we make a solid pair.”

No reaction.

You let out a small sigh.

The room had settled into a quiet sort of calm by late evening.

Bucky hadn’t spoken much—if at all—but he hadn’t pulled away when you refilled his water or dropped off a spare blanket either. A win in your book.

You hadn’t meant to take the call in front of him.

But you also couldn’t afford to ignore it—not when Matt Murdock’s name lit up your screen with its usual stubborn persistence.

You shifted where you sat on the edge of the room’s lone table, pressing the phone to your ear while still keeping Bucky in the corner of your eye. He sat on the mattress, back against the wall, arms folded stiffly over his chest. Watching. Always watching.

“Good evening,” you greeted softly, careful to keep your voice low.

There was a pause. Then, sharp and unmistakably annoyed, “Where the hell are you?”

You smiled. “Hi to you too, Matty.”

“I came by your loft, you weren't there.”

“No, because I’m in Germany.”

There was a long pause.

“…Germany?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize international borders exist, right? And that we’re not technically allowed to cross them at will?”

“You do realize you’re blind and still have better spatial awareness than the TSA, right?”

“You were just in New York yesterday,” he said, exasperated. “You can’t keep dropping everything the second Steve Rogers snaps his fingers.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Jealousy and judgment in one breath. Impressive.”

“I’m not jealous,” he bit out. “I’m concerned. You didn’t even tell anyone you were leaving the country.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I didn’t plan to. Things moved fast. It’s not like I’m on vacation, Matt.”

“You think I don’t know what fast looks like?” he shot back. “This is the kind of fast that gets people killed. You’re not a soldier. You’re not—”

“I’m not you,” you snapped, before immediately softening your tone. “I’m not you, Matt. But you don’t get to lecture me about dropping everything for a ghost from your past when you've barely been present since yours came back.”

The line went still.

You exhaled. “I’m not trying to fight with you.”

“I know,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “I just… I worry. You matter to people, you know?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” you promised. “Just keeping someone safe until Steve gets back.”

There was a beat.

“…Is that someone dangerous?”

You glanced across the room. Bucky’s eyes were still on you, narrowed faintly in curiosity.

“No,” you said. “Not to me.”

Matt didn’t sound convinced. “Call me when you land.”

“I will.”

You ended the call with a gentle sigh, letting your head rest back against the wall.

Across the room, Bucky was watching you.

Not glaring. Not tense. Just watching—with that unreadable look he wore like armor.

You raised the phone slightly. “Work colleague.“

His brow lifted, slightly skeptical.

You tilted your head. “Okay, close work colleague.”

He didn’t respond. But you swore you caught the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth—something almost like amusement.

You didn’t press.

You just leaned your head back and closed your eyes.

And that’s when you heard it.

Footsteps.

A faint but steady rhythm outside, boots against gravel, echoing just enough through the warehouse walls to mimic something far more sinister.

The blood drained from Bucky’s face in an instant.

His body snapped upright, rigid. His eyes locked on the door.

And his breathing changed.

Subtle at first. A slight hitch. A break in rhythm. The kind of thing you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

And you weren’t.

You were halfway to the window already, your phone still in hand, distracted by the soft scrape of boots on gravel outside. You weren’t even looking at him when you said, “I’ll be right back. Just want to check it out.”

You moved with ease, brushing aside the edge of the tarp covering the glass. From where you stood, you caught a glimpse—just a guy with a backpack, head down, walking briskly down the alley. Civilian. No uniform. No earpiece.

Harmless.

You turned back toward the room, already ready to reassure—

And stopped cold.

Bucky hadn’t moved from the bed.

But everything about him had changed.

He was still seated, but his hands were clenched into fists, white-knuckled. His shoulders were drawn in tight, and his head was tipped down, jaw locked, chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid bursts.

“Bucky?”

His eyes snapped up.

Wide. Unfocused. Wild.

Your heart dropped.

You took a step closer. “Hey. You’re okay, it was just someone walking past. No one’s coming.”

But he didn’t hear you. Not really.

His breath hitched again, sharper this time. A low sound escaped his throat—almost a growl, almost a sob—and his metal hand twitched violently on his knee.

“I can’t—” he choked, fingers clawing at the edge of the mattress. “I can’t—breathe—”

You froze for half a second, then rushed forward, dropping into a crouch in front of him, palms out, voice gentle but firm.

“Okay. Okay, Bucky. You’re having a panic attack. I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you are. I promise, you are. You need to try to slow it down, or your body’s going to lock up on you.”

His chest was rising in harsh, ragged gasps now, every breath shallow and frantic. His eyes were darting around the room like he was trapped, like every wall was closing in.

You hovered your hands near his knees, not touching, just there. “I’m not gonna grab you. You’re safe. You’re in control. You’re not back there.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, body trembling. “I can’t—I can’t get out—I can’t—”

“Hey. Hey.” Your voice broke on the word. “You’re not trapped. I’m right here. You’re with me, remember?”

No response.

His breathing was worsening. He wasn’t inhaling fully anymore. Just choking down gulps of air like they weren’t sticking. His fingers curled against the mattress, his body rocking slightly.

He’s going to pass out.

You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady even as panic rose in your own chest.

“Okay. Listen to me. We’re going to ground, alright? Just do what you can.” You reached up, hovering your fingers closer to his arm. “Five things you can see. Look around, just five.”

He blinked rapidly, lips parted, shaking.

“Five things,” you repeated. “Just name them. Anything.”

“I—I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t—I can’t see—fuck—”

Your gut twisted.

“Alright. It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered, watching his eyes roll slightly upward as if his mind was spinning off. “Bucky, please. Just hold onto something.”

But he couldn’t.

You could see the fight in him, but the grip of the attack had its claws in deep now, dragging him down. His hand jerked, metal fingers spasming like his nerves were short-circuiting.

He was slipping.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan.

You just acted.

You surged forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Your hand cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the scruff of his cheek, your lips moving against his like your breath could anchor him, like your body could pull him back from wherever his mind had gone.

At first, he didn’t move.

His breath hitched hard in your mouth, his body rigid.

And then—

He breathed.

Not perfect. Not deep.

But something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders dipped slightly. His mouth softened just enough under yours. The rigid rock of his spine eased.

You pulled back after a beat, gasping softly, shocked at yourself, still close enough to feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

His eyes snapped open.

Blue. Wide. Raw.

You blinked, stammering. “I—I didn’t know what else to do. I read once—somewhere—that when you’re panicking, holding your breath can reset your lungs, and so—” You swallowed. “So, when I kissed you… you held your breath.”

His lips parted, still trembling.

Your hand was still lightly on his jaw. You started to pull it away, “I’m sorry—”

But then his hand—his metal hand—caught your wrist.

Gently.

He stared at you, breathing hard, but steadier now. Something wild still flickered behind his eyes—but it wasn’t panic anymore.

It was something else.

Something desperate.

Your breath caught somewhere in your throat.

Bucky’s hand—cold metal and trembling restraint—was still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand pressed to his jaw. His skin beneath your palm was warm, rough with stubble, tense with something unreadable.

You should’ve tried to pull away again.

You should’ve said something. But you couldn’t speak.

Not with the way he was looking at you. Like you weren’t real. Like he’d dreamed you up in some quiet corner of his broken mind and was terrified you might disappear if he blinked too long.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. Your mind raced, caught between guilt and instinct.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. “I just didn’t know what else—”

And then you felt it.

His other hand.

You hadn’t even noticed it moving. But now, his warm, flesh hand was at the back of your head, fingers tangling through your hair, firm and certain.

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you in.

The kiss came fast.

No hesitation. No apology.

It collided with your mouth like a dam breaking—like a gasp swallowed between parted lips and bruised hearts. His hand on your wrist still held you in place, while the other tilted your head just enough to claim every inch of your mouth.

You made a startled sound—something between a breath and a gasp—and your hands moved instinctively finding his shoulders as you fell forward into his chest.

Your body hit his with more force than you meant, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, he pulled you closer, like your weight grounded him.

His kiss deepened.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was hungry.

Like he needed this more than air. Like the feel of your mouth, the press of your body, was the only thing holding him in the present. His lips moved against yours with bruising pressure, desperate and hot, tongue flicking past your parted lips like he couldn’t stand not to taste you again.

And you melted.

Every thought, every question, every ounce of guilt evaporated the second his tongue touched yours.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders. Your knees threatened to give out. His breath was ragged in your mouth, nose brushing yours, body trembling with barely leashed tension.

This wasn’t just comfort.

This was need.

Pure and primal.

His hands were on you now—both of them. The right still cradled the back of your head, fingers buried in your hair, holding you close. But the left… the left had found your waist, sliding up beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing along your side like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch but couldn’t help himself.

You felt the chill of metal and the heat of human skin, trembling and unsure.

He kissed you harder. Mouth moving against yours with clumsy, desperate hunger—no rhythm, no restraint. He wasn’t kissing to seduce.

He was kissing to feel.

When his lips broke from yours, they didn’t go far. They dropped to your jaw, then your throat, his breath hot and uneven as he murmured something unintelligible against your skin.

His tongue dragged along the side of your neck, followed by soft, open-mouthed kisses—rushed, messy, too fast. Like he didn’t know where to start. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you at once.

“God…” he breathed, mouth moving to your collarbone. “You’re so soft…”

His hands moved again, a little braver now—palming your waist, then your back, then your hips. He tugged at your shirt, his fingers grazing over the fabric like it was in his way, like he needed to touch more.

And that’s when your thoughts finally broke through the haze.

You gasped, blinking hard, fingers coming up to press gently against his chest.

“Bucky,” you said, breathless. “We should stop.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull back.

His lips paused just below your ear, trembling.

“This isn’t good for you,” you whispered. “You’re in a bad headspace, and I don’t want to take advantage—”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes wide and pleading, voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered.

Your heart shattered.

“Bucky—”

“Please,” he said again, more desperate now. “I—I need to feel you. I need to know I’m still here. That I’m not… that I’m not him.”

Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest.

His voice broke entirely. “Just… just let me touch you. Let me feel something that isn’t pain. Please…”

You stared at him for a long moment, his words still ringing in your ears, his hands trembling against your waist.

Let me feel something that isn’t pain.

The breath left your chest in a slow, trembling sigh.

And then you leaned in.

Your lips met his again—not rough this time, but slow, deep, deliberate. A promise.

Bucky responded like he’d been holding his breath.

His hands flew to your sides, tugging you closer until your knees straddled his thighs, until your chest was flush with his. He let out a broken, needy sound as you kissed him, fingers dragging up your spine, gripping, clutching, like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper against his lips, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He moaned at that—actually moaned—his mouth crashing into yours again as his hands started moving, frantic and restless, skimming beneath your shirt, tugging at the fabric like it was an obstacle, not clothing.

Your fingers slid up into his hair, holding his face between your palms like he was something fragile. You kissed him deeper, letting him pour himself into it, letting him need you. And all the while, you rocked slowly in his lap, hips rolling in a subtle, steady rhythm that made both of you gasp.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered against your mouth. “You feel so good… I can’t—can’t get close enough.”

He pulled harder at your shirt, his hands shaking with how desperately he wanted more of you. You broke the kiss just long enough to fumble with the buttons, undoing only a few before he lost patience entirely.

His hands flew up to your chest, and in one frantic motion, he tugged your bra down beneath your breasts.

“Bucky—”

But then his mouth was on you, and the words dissolved.

He latched onto your breast with a groan so guttural it vibrated through your core. His tongue swirled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth like he was starved for it—like this was the only thing tethering him to earth.

You gasped, eyes flying wide, one hand clinging to his shoulder as your hips jerked against him.

“Oh my—Bucky—”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

His metal hand clutched your back, holding you in place as he lavished your breast with open-mouthed kisses, warm and wet and messy. His other hand palmed your waist, guiding your hips in time with his own.

You rutted against him harder now, both of you still fully clothed, the friction unbearable and perfect. His cock pressed thick and hard against you through his jeans, and the way he groaned into your skin when you ground down on him made your thighs tremble.

“Please,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Please don’t stop.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding him, anchoring him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you breathed. “I’ve got you.”

And he moaned again, mouth still on your skin, hips jerking upward into you like he was begging you to believe him.

Your breathing was ragged. His lips were still wet from your skin. And when you pulled back slightly—only just enough to break contact—Bucky let out a whine.

Not a word. A sound. Broken, instinctual.

“Don’t—” he gasped, trying to follow you. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice barely stable as you pushed gently against his chest.

He let you guide him back, his body hitting the thin mattress with a soft thump, arms still reaching for you like he couldn’t stand a single inch of distance.

“I’ve got you,” you promised again, voice low and sure, even as your hands moved fast.

You didn’t fully undress—didn’t need to. You shoved your jeans down, just past your knees, the waistband biting into your thighs as you knelt between his legs. Bucky’s chest heaved as he watched you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was starving.

“God, you’re…” he breathed, voice hoarse. “You’re not real.”

You reached for his jeans, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle, your own hands shaking now with the sheer pressure of what you were doing—what this was. You unzipped him, tugging his waistband down just far enough to free him.

And there he was.

Hard. Leaking. So fucking ready it made your mouth go dry.

He twitched when your hand wrapped around him—just once—and he gasped, hips jerking slightly off the mattress.

“Please,” he murmured again. “I—I need to be inside you. Please, I need—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You rose back up onto his thighs, grabbed his cock at the base, and positioned yourself with practiced urgency.

He held his breath.

And then—you sank down.

Slow, steady, deep.

Bucky cried out, head snapping back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as your heat wrapped around him. “Fuck,—Jesus—”

You couldn’t even breathe for a second. The stretch was intense, overwhelming—your thighs trembling as you adjusted, hands braced on his chest.

Beneath you, he was shaking.

Completely undone.

His hands flew to your hips, gripping tight, not to guide you—but just to hold on.

You stayed there a moment, full of him, pulsing around him, feeling every tremble in his frame.

Then you leaned down, lips brushing his cheek, and whispered, “You feel that?”

He nodded, frantic.

“That’s real. I’m real. And you’re not alone.”

And then you started to move.

You moved slowly at first—hips rolling, drawing his cock in deep, then easing back up, dragging every inch of him against your walls. Bucky’s head tipped back, a shudder ripping through him, his mouth slack, eyes blown wide as his hands dug into your waist like he was terrified you might stop.

“God,” he rasped, “you feel—fuck, you feel so good—”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. The way your body wrapped around him, the rhythm building in your hips—it said everything.

You rode him harder, faster now, the tension rising like a fever. The denim of his jeans and the way your own clothes clung to sweat-slick skin made everything feel even messier, even more raw. The friction burned in the best way, every drag of your body against his driving him closer to the edge.

Bucky couldn’t stop touching you. His hands were on your waist, your thighs, your back—like he couldn’t decide where he needed you more. His voice was low and broken, a litany of groans and murmured please, please, please, even when you were already giving him everything.

When you leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, your fingers tangling in his hair, he was right there with you—breathing you in like oxygen.

His chest was rising fast now, the rhythm in your hips growing sloppy, desperate. You could feel him pulsing inside you, getting close.

Then—suddenly—he surged upward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him as his mouth found yours again. The kiss was rough, needy, all tongue and teeth and shaky breath. He needed to be connected—to feel you pressed against him in every possible way as he unraveled.

And then he came.

You felt it—deep, hot, twitching inside you as he groaned into your mouth, burying his face in your shoulder, his entire body trembling as you held him through it. His arms clutched you tight, almost too tight, like if he let go you might vanish.

You didn’t.

You stayed with him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders. Lips at his temple. Your hips finally stilled.

You hadn’t come. You weren’t even thinking about it.

This—this—had never been about you.

It was for him.

To remind him that he was here. That he was human. That he was held.

You were still catching your breath, his body trembling in your arms, when it happened.

Without a word—without even looking up—Bucky shifted beneath you, tightening his arms around your waist. And before you could ask what he was doing, he flipped you.

Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and you barely had time to gasp before his body followed, pressing you down, caging you in.

“Bucky—” you started, surprised, dazed.

But the look in his eyes stole the words from your mouth.

Focused. Intense. Wild with a need you hadn’t seen before—but not for his own release this time.

For yours.

He was still hard inside you. Still there. And now, he began to move.

Not gently.

Not slowly.

He pounded into you—hips snapping forward with frantic rhythm, as if something had cracked open inside him and he couldn’t bear not to give you back everything you’d just given him. Every thrust was deep, hard, messy. His breath came in grunts and gasps, his forehead pressed to yours, his body slick with sweat.

You clutched at his shoulders, your own body struggling to keep up as pleasure started to crash over you like a wave.

“Let me,” he panted, voice low and wrecked. “Let me make you feel good. You—fuck, you were so good to me—I need—I need to make you come—please—”

Your breath hitched, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as his cock drove into you again and again, hitting all the right angles now with dizzying precision. His hand slid down, slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate, trying to draw your pleasure up through every inch of you.

The pressure built fast. Too fast.

You were already so full, so overwhelmed—his voice in your ear, his fingers on your body, his cock so hard inside you—and the way he moved… God.

“You don’t have to—” you started, already trembling.

“I want to,” he growled, fucking into you harder, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You whimpered, body jerking beneath his as the tension in your core snapped tighter, tighter, tighter—

“Come for me,” he groaned. “Please. I need to feel it.”

And then you did.

You came with a moan that tore out of your throat, back arching, hands clutching at his back as your body spasmed around him. Bucky groaned, dropping his head into your neck, hips still moving as he rode you through it, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Like giving you pleasure was what made him feel whole.

His body trembled as he came down, the last few ragged thrusts losing momentum until finally—finally—he stilled, buried deep inside you, heart pounding hard enough that you could feel it through his chest.

He hovered there for a moment, arms shaking, breath catching in his throat.

And then he collapsed.

Not all at once. Slowly, carefully. Like his strength gave out in stages. But even as he let himself fall into you, he caught his weight on his forearms, mindful, always mindful—never fully resting on you. He curled slightly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck like he needed to hide. Like the world was too bright again, too loud, and your skin was the only place left that felt quiet.

Your arms came around him without hesitation.

One hand slipped across his back, fingers splayed wide, gently grounding him with each stroke up and down his spine. The other cradled the back of his head, thumb sweeping slowly through his damp hair, cradling him like something precious.

His breath hitched once.

You didn’t speak right away.

You just held him.

He melted into it slowly, his metal arm resting against the mattress beside your head, his human hand fisting weakly in the blanket beneath you. You felt the tremble still in his muscles—aftershocks of everything he’d just released.

“Shh,” you murmured, soft against his ear. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His forehead pressed tighter to your throat.

“You’re safe now,” you whispered, voice low and steady. “Right here with me.”

He exhaled, shaky and fragile.

“You’re not alone. You’re not him. You’re not broken.”

He didn’t answer—but he didn’t need to.

He let you hold him.

You kept going, voice like a lullaby, your fingers never stopping.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you murmured. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip on the blanket loosened, and he shifted just enough to finally let some of his weight settle into your body.

Not too much.

Just enough to trust.

[lietogirlsss]

SPRING INTO SUMMER !

girl!dad bucky barnes x mom!reader

𝖘ummary: the one where the thunderbolts all think it's weird that bucky keeps pulling a disappearing act every couple of months, only that he's been taking the quinjet and coming back with a raging tan. After a particularly harrowing mission in amsterdam, they needed a place to lie low and bucky is already regretting his decision before even making it.

𝔞uthor's note: was craving for some domestic bucky fics and I remembered oh shit yeah I can write, amazing use of my free will and free time! This was set in the middle of the 14 month period as the new avengers(z). Also I watched Monday... yeah.

𝔴ord count: 9.4k

𝔴arnings: violence, blood, mentions of various weapons of defense, humor as a coping mechanism for trauma, various injuries, swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death, your daughter is described with curly dark brown hair and blue eyes, reader is an ex widow.

Five highly-trained assassins and a Bob walk into a bar and it becomes apparent to them that they seriously needed to go back to the drawing board with their plan of attack.

What was supposed to be a standard recon mission with moderate to heavy security on the exclusive bar they've been observing for the past two months became a really ugly, bloody battle where they were ambushed by black ops that spawned from nearly every direction.

Yelena had gotten intel on a potent form of mdma being smuggled by an international pharmaceutical company and selling it to exclusive night clubs all around Europe run by Hugo LaForteza, a Spanish crime syndicate with ties to organized crime. That same pharmaceutical company has tried burying their sketchy past of producing biological weapons and super soldier serum made from scratch before Thanos' snap and instead dabbling into the production of drugs after nightclubs rose to popularity again after everyone returned from being Blipped.

Now, a couple years later they were still up and running and over 40 people have been reported missing all over Europe. The rest of them managed to locate the warehouse where the victims were kept before they were set free and were sent home to their families

Now that the company had been exposed, they've done a good job at covering their tracks and hiding in plain sight. It was only the beginning. Ava, Yelena, and Bucky scouted potential hideouts, safehouses, certain covert routes the supply trucks have been taking to move the products, cross-referencing bank transfers and purchases to off-shore bank accounts containing billions of laundered money. Meanwhile, John weaselled his way into federal databases, built profiles against a hundred men and women who have been involved with the human trafficking scandal. Alexei has been revamping the Avengers brand by spending several hours a day on ms paint designing new avengers merch and arguing with vendors on Amazon when the set of hoodies and shirts he ordered two weeks ago came looking like someone taking a remedial Home Economics class sewed them together.

Meanwhile, Bob has been working in the background, making everyone cups of coffee that had been too watered down, too strong, or too sweet during long, intense nights of work. He went out one afternoon and purchased several cookbooks containing recipes for meals from around the world and promised the rest of the team that their long streak of ordering takeout every night was over because he would be the one cooking for them. So far, there had been no complaints, Bob had become an excellent cook.

After a year's worth of hunting down and investigating leads they finally took to the streets and began taking down nightclubs, bars, and raves from inside out. Flushing out the wealthy and loyal clientele to get closer to shutting down all the suppliers and manufacturers across Europe. They went in strong and took down Berlin, then Ibiza, followed by Rome, Belgrade, then Amsterdam.

And through it all there had been a consistent theme.

Bucky had a habit of disappearing every now and then, usually during the crack of dawn and then coming back a couple of days later with a harsh tan that Alexei had made abundantly clear suited him.

"You could pass off as summer catalogue model! All you need is coconut oil! Take off your shirt, give people what they want!"

John's mentioned it offhandedly once or twice, asking the rest of them if they knew why Bucky kept disappearing every now and then. Ava quickly brushed him off, claiming that he should worry less about Bucky and more about the fact that his shield's only use to him now is to hold lettuce, meat, cheese, and beans. With the matter getting increasingly pressing caused by their own detective work, the rest of the team was itching to find the real reason behind it. There had been multiple accounts in which John had attempted to ask Bucky about it, only for him to be pulled away by either Ava or Yelena unceremoniously. Or other instances where John managed to corner Bucky in the kitchen and ask him about it, only for him to deflect the question or glance at him and walk out like it was nothing.

Yelena did the math. Bucky left every three to four months, his trips lasting either three days or a week and there was no in between. She kept a journal where she would write entries regarding Bucky's unusual absences, possible theories as to why, and if he had been double crossing them- a list of how they would kick him out of the team. So far the list has been empty.

A week later after another night of endless tossing and turning in her shared bedroom with Ava when they were in Amsterdam- she swears she hears the door down the hall click as if somebody closed it from the outside. Then, after dismissing it as nothing, she sees a shadow swiftly pass by the gap the door had to the floor. She sits up. Ava, being the heavy sleeper she was, did not notice Yelena quietly slip out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She is startled by the figure of John in his pajamas standing by the window, who clearly has just woken up about 10 seconds ago and dragged himself out of bed without giving two shits about the fact that anybody from a mile away could see the outline of where drool had once pooled by the side of his mouth. "Jesus Walker, what the hell are you doing??? You look like a pervert." She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him before he placed a finger to his lips and shushed her aggressively.

"It's Bucky, pretty sure I just caught him in the act." He says, jerking his neck to the side, beckoning Yelena over to the window. She plodded towards him and lo and behold, there stood Bucky with his knapsack slung around his shoulders, his hands busy with untying the busted boat they rented that was currently floating in the canal. "Nearly missed the sound of his bedroom door close because of Alexei's snoring. I swear he could level this apartment if he wanted to."

"Where is he off to now?" Yelena asks, albeit somewhat rhetorically.

John clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I've got no clue. Who knows what's going on inside that man’s head?"

“A black and white 24-hour montage of him and Sam with a Mariah Carey song in the background?” Yelena replies under her breath, causing John to laugh through his nose.

“I was gonna say the same thing-”

"-what are you two doing by the window???" Ava's voice grumbled all of a sudden, causing Yelena and John to whirl their heads around. "You do realize it's too early to stare at murky canal water, right?"

Yelena makes a face at her. "Wh- that isn't what we're doing."

"Well then what's got you two staring out the window for???"

"Bucky's out by the dock, I'm convinced he's headed to the quinjet to pull a Houdini on us again." John explained, peering out of the window once more as he pointed at a spot on the glass pane. Ava walks over, Yelena makes room for her as all three of them watch Bucky stand by the boat, talking to somebody on his burner phone. Muffled segments of the conversation could be heard from the slim aperture the window had to the windowsill. Words like "be right there" and "they don't know" were heard, which made all three of them exchange glances of suspicion.

"Who is he even talking to?" Ava asks them. "D'you guys got any ideas?"

"There's no way it could be Sam..." John began quietly, making Yelena and Ava furrow their brows as they turned to him. "Right?” He supplements.

"Too soon. You heard him when he came back from Louisiana, he sounded like someone gutted his cat."

“Why can’t I just crack the window open??? It would make more sense to just call Bucky from up here-” John wonders, extending his arm to open the window before Yelena and Ava stop him.

“-Don't open the window!” She and Ava hiss, startling John.

“Fine! Alright!” He exclaimed, almost scandalized. "So who else has he got on speed dial? Do you think it's still Congressman shit?"

"He sent that resignation letter ages ago."

"It's definitely not Valentina."

"What about that assistant of hers? Me- Melissa? What was even happening with them when we were in New York?"

Ava makes an unimpressed sound. "I don't know, but I'm not interested in finding out anything about that dynamic at all."

"Get your head out of the gutter, Ava."

“Wait, who are we talking about?" Bob suddenly spoke up from behind them making all three of them flinch once more, causing a commotion. Yelena grabs the hem of Bob's pajama shirt and yanks him to the floor as the rest of them fit themselves underneath the window, terrified that Bucky might've heard them in the scuffle.

"Jesus, we seriously gotta tie a church bell around you or something." John scowled in between Ava and Bob. "He's too quiet."

"Thank you?" Bob chuckles, baffled, in between Yelena and John.

“We didn't hear him at all.”

Yelena sighed, craning her neck to take a peek at Bucky once more before sinking back down on the floor resembling a sack of flour. "Ava go look, I'm not looking."

Ava snaps her head to look at her. "Why am I doing it?"

“Because,” Yelena began, widening her eyes and raising her shoulders to accentuate her point. “-Because you’re the only one out of all of us who can go invisible.”

Ava screws her face even tighter. “Is that your only argument to get me to do something none of you want to do?"

“The situation kind of warrants stealth though.” John appends, coming to Yelena's rescue in which he is recognized for.

“Exactly!”

Ava wasn’t happy about the idea of having to phase this early in the morning but does so without any more protest. Her eyes screw shut and in the blink of an eye she becomes invisible, they see a little iridescent shimmer where her body was supposed to be as the meager amount of sunlight piercing through the heavy clouds floating over Amsterdam hits her invisible form. A second later she reappears as a mechanical whirring could be heard from outside.

“He's ready to leave, the boat's acting up again though.” Ava reports as the rest of them scramble to get on their knees and look outside the window where Bucky could be seen at odds with the motor of the boat, pulling the cord repeatedly until he yanks it too far and the boat engine roars to life.

“Soooo,” Ava prolonged. “Are we gonna do something about it or-”

“-What's Bucky even doing down there?-”

“-Planning to go on a ride around the canal-”

“-he is? But Bucky doesn't even like riding boats let alone that piece of junk-”

“-we were kidding, we obviously don't know shit-”

“-huh, coulda fooled me-”

“-Again if we just open the window-”

“-We're not opening the window!-”

“Look, we can't just go in blind and demand an answer out of him, we gotta have a plan.” Yelena fought, eyeing John whose mouth opened. “and it can't be you cornering Bucky expecting him to tell you the truth.”

“It was worth a shot.” John hissed. “Besides, I haven't seen any of you try and get the truth outta him.”

“That's like picking a fight with fucking optimus prime, do you want to get your throat to get crushed like an empty soda can?” Ava argues, glancing up at John as he glances outside of the window again.

Bob reaches up to turn the rusted knob of the window as the rest stare at him in horror. "You know what?, instead of us sitting here and guessing why don't I just-"

As he twists the aged knob to the side, instead of the window lowering inward like windows in the Netherlands usually do, it completely dislodged from its hinges and slides inside, the glass shattering as it comes in contact with the floor in great commotion. The rest of the team only barely managed to roll away before they were inevitably pancaked by the window- Ava who tucked and rolled towards the cupboards, John who army-crawled towards the table, and Yelena who lurched towards the entrance to the kitchen with Bob in tow.

They gawk both at the wreckage and each other, startled. A beat passes and they hear a sudden drumming of heavy footsteps coming from one of the bedrooms, the door flew open reverberating through the entire apartment.

“YELENA?! YELENA?!-”

Alexei comes running into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers and a robe- he instantly relaxes when he sees Yelena glaring at him over her shoulder. “Hi, dad.”

The man stands there, stupefied. “Wh- what are you doing???”

Yelena pauses, lost in thought. “People-watching.” She settled.

“He's gone-!” John's voice suddenly called out. Ava, Yelena, and Bob rush towards the window only to see that the boat was gone and Bucky along with it. Each one of them shared a look of defeat and a disgruntled sigh that seemed to ricochet across each member of the team as they moved around the window. They promised each other that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d catch Bucky leaving and hear some lame excuse to patch up the real story. When he finally came back after a week, they all entered the kitchen together which earned them a raised brow from Bucky who was enjoying a cup of coffee by the window.

“You guys look like a herd of terrified gazelles moving through a grazing patch.”

“Bucky,” John began. “We need to talk.”

He raised his eyebrows. ”Oh good, are you guys finally gonna tell me who opened the one window the landlady told us not to open, broke it, and is helping me explain to her why there's broken glass hidden under the fridge?”

“No, that isn't what we wanted to talk abo-”

“-It was Bob, Bob did it.” Ava interjects, glancing over at Bob who stiffened at the sudden turn of the conversation.

Bucky's eyes shut tight as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a familiar habit. “How many times do I gotta make myself clear not to open things you aren't supposed to open?”

Bob's eyes widened even more. “I- I only opened it because John and Yelena and Ava were arguing about why you kept on disappearing, an-and they saw you outside with the boat so-”

“-Exactly, why were you outside with the boat at 7 in the morning?” Yelena appends quickly, narrowing her eyes at Bucky, his face passive.

Alexei chuckles as he leans forward to look over at Yelena. "Right??? Makes you think- Where is that guy off to all the time??? He is like every cheating father in the American dramas that claims he is going on so-called work trip but is secretly seeing mistress that looks like she just graduated from highschool." He chimes, albeit rather colourfully.

“I wanted to do a sweep of the red-light district to see if our informant’s been telling us the truth. He has. That special event some of LaForteza's men are hosting tomorrow night is the perfect cover for some recon, slipping in and out the bar would be easy. Then I had to stay in Washington for a couple of days because I got my couch reupholstered and needed to turn over the keys to my office.” Bucky says with ease, like he'd practiced this a dozen times.

“Bullshit.” Yelena spat, which had the same effect as a streak of lightning lighting up the sky seconds before a deafening thunderclap.

"We can't work a mission where you disappear days at a time when we’re only left with a little note on the fridge.” Ava seethed. “Gone to collect my things at the office, need to sign off on some documents- it doesn't take a week to do either of those things, Bucky. We know you’ve submitted your resignation letter for Congress bloody ages ago!”

“Well I don't know if you haven't noticed but it's pretty hard trying to do all these things when you're under cover and have to fly across oceans, so I'm sorry if I keep you waiting.” Bucky reasons.

“We aren't leaving you alone until we get the truth outta you. No more stupid excuses, no more lies.” Says John this time. “Being lied to feels like shit, you don't gotta be a hundred years old to know that.”

“Why the hell have you been sneaking around like we wouldn't notice and taking phone calls when you think nobody’s listening?” Yelena asks once and for all. The sunlight had only now started peeking out over the roofs of the hedges of houses and shops that lined the streets. Beams of buttery sunlight illuminated the otherwise dreary kitchen. They all stood there, blanketed by immense silence. "Are you going to answer my question or are we going to sit here in dead silence?"

Bucky sets his mug down, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, but let's get one thing absolutely straight. I'm not pulling a goddamn Lotso on a mission I've risked my life numerous times for."

John straightens from his spot instantly. "How does he know Lo- have you watched Toy Story 3?” his eyes swung like a pendulum, looking at Yelena beside him to Bucky in front of him.

"Who?" Yelena wonders, raising an eyebrow.

Bob slumped. "Come on, the pink bear? The one with the cane?"

"Ahhh," Yelena says after a beat, pointing a finger at him. "Is he the one that kept eating sandwiches and went to jail?"

Ava opens out her hands, palms facing the ceiling as she frowns at Yelena. "No, that's Paddington. And there's more to his story than him going to jail! he's helped out so many people, made so many marmalade sandwiches, and is the most polite bear that ever graced television."

"So why did he get arrested?"

"He was framed! Because Hugh Grant stole the pop-up book he's been saving up for!" Ava argued.

Yelena's brows furrow even more. "Who's-"

"-Are you done? Because my coffee's getting cold." Bucky drawled, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

"Look, man, if you're working against us now is a good time to tell us." John chimes in, moving past the rest of his teammates and advancing on Bucky. “I don't know what kinda game you're playing with us here, watching us connect the dots while you’re off someplace else doing only God knows what- but if you can’t already tell we’re a team now. Which means we do this shit as a team. If we can't trust each other, why bother?”

“Shockingly, he is very right.” Alexei says from the back of the group.

Bucky sighed, shifting his weight onto the other foot. "If I tell you, people's lives will be in danger, not just mine." He says, tone heavy with meaning. "I'm sure as hell not letting that happen, not when I just started getting a handle on things- not when things just started to look up for me."

"What are you talking about?" Yelena demands, voice rising. "What else could you have got to lose, Barnes?"

"Everything." Bucky answers without missing a beat. “I'm asking you to believe me when I say that I'm not jeopardising this mission nor am I double-crossing any of you. I know it's asking a lot but I want you guys to trust me.”

“Can we?” Yelena wonders, making Bucky's gaze flit across the group.

“You can.” He says. “I promise.”

Cut to several weeks later, they are dancing through the jam-packed streets of Amsterdam lit up by head-ache-inducing neon signs and differently colored bulbs. Several black-ops agents remained hot on their tail as they slip into a dark alleyway, taking a detour inside a busy kitchen where they are overwhelmed by the cacophony of angry voices yelling in Dutch and English, the chopping of vegetables, the fervent stirring, the clanging of pots, the sizzling of a wok that quickly erupted flames. One of the line cooks suddenly appeared from the walk-in and handed Bucky a duffle bag; they exchanged a brief conversation in Dutch before the line cook patted Bucky on his metal arm and left, seemingly to go back to his station.

Bucky turns to the rest of them, beaten up and in bad shape. Everyone had suffered too many bruised and wounds to count, John was shot in the shoulder and needed bandaging, Alexei was nearly gutted by one of the agents that had a knife, Yelena was trying to get Bob to calm down after becoming The Sentry so as not to invite the other terrible twin to surface, Ava had a sprained ankle, and Bucky was pretty sure he broke a couple of his ribs.

“We can’t go back to the apartment, it isn't safe, chances are they've been tracing our steps since before we left Ibiza.” Bucky informed them all, slouched, out-of-breath, and wincing at him as they tried to listen. “We gotta leave Amsterdam before dawn or we’re as good as dead.”

“All the evidence we've been building for the past year, the maps, the photos, everything- we left everything back in the apartment for them to see. We might've just handed all our progress to LaForteza on a goddamn silver platter.” John yelled, leaning against the bread rack before one of the cooks pulled the bread rack to the side and shooed him away.

“Which is why they'll know where we're headed to next, they're gonna reroute all their operations, go underground, cover their tracks to the point that they've completely erased themselves from the face of the Earth. But that won't matter, not when we've got all the proof we need.” Says Bucky, pulling out a leatherbound journal from one of his pockets to show to the rest of the team.

Ava makes a sound, almost like a scoff but also a wheeze. “Where do you expect us to go after we've just unleashed hell on their operation? We're literally standing in the middle of a scorching kitchen bleeding all over the floor.” She gestures to the busy kitchen around them. “It's surprising they haven't kicked us out by now.”

“We'll figure it out on the way.” Says Bucky. “For now, we'll get dressed and get the hell outta here.” He drops the duffle bag on the floor and starts handing out articles of clothing to the rest of the team. Out of the corner of Yelena's eye she sees Bob pulling at his torn sweater and pivots on her heel to face him.

“He didn't mean right now, Bob.” She said, causing him to pause mid-action before he pulls the sweater down and shoots her a little smile.

“Woops.”

She turns another couple of degrees to spot Alexei half-way through unbuckling his suit, his helmet and belt already discarded on the floor. “Let go of that zipper!"

The same line cook from earlier showed up once more and escorted them to the locker rooms where they all hastily got dressed. Then when they finished, Bucky moves one of the lockers aside, revealing a crawl space that leads to an abandoned part of the Amsterdam Metro. Once they managed to hitch a ride on the back of a truck, steal a family wagon, and get to the quinjet it was smooth sailing. So to speak.

Bucky, who had taken upon himself to pilot the jet, hadn't spoken a word since they took off. Too laser focused on the dark skies ahead and the controls. Yelena only approaches him after they've stabilized in the air and Bucky had turned on autopilot to hopefully stretch his legs inside the cockpit.

“So, have you finally decided to tell us where we're going or do we have to stare into your dark, broody eyes to figure it out?” She wonders, making him let out yet another heavy sigh. By now everyone who had been resting had perked up at the sound of Yelena's voice and the sudden apparition of Bucky inside the cockpit.

“Livorno. I've got a place there near the port. It's secluded, but also busy enough in the day for us to slip in and out without getting unwanted attention.” Bucky finally answers. “We can squat there for the time being, lay low while we figure out a solid plan.”

“We've already lit one of their dens on fire. If they realize we've stolen LaForteza's journal too it won't be long until they come after us.”

“That is, if they do notice it's gone.” Says Bucky. “When you, Alexei, John, and Bob were taking out the guards Ava and I broke into the safe, swapped it out with a replica. If we manage to intercept their plans in Croatia, we'll manage to end this once and for all.”

Bucky places the journal on one of the crates, open to a page where he points at a cut out map- several red lines stretching out across Europe converging on what was marked to be Belgium. The team gathers around him. “They're shutting down all their operations in South-Eastern and North-Western Europe and they’re bringing what's left of their supply to a giant EDM festival in Split happening in five days.” He explains.

“So then we sneak in, guns ready, take them out once and for all. Easy Peasy.” Says Alexei with a grin.

“Except there'll be thousands of people, we can't risk endangering any more civilians.” Ava reasons, raising an eyebrow. “With the amount of weapons we have there's no way they'll let us in at the checkpoint.”

“Hence the sneaking.” Alexei clarifies, two of his fingers prancing atop the journal.

“There has to be some other way to get in undetected. If those people at the festival take whatever LaForteza’s goons have been distributing there's no guaranteeing what'll happen to them.”

“We've got an hour and fifty minutes in the air, try and rest up, yeah?” Bucky sighed as he attempted to get comfortable on one of the long bench-like chairs in the cockpit, cracking his neck.

Yelena scoffs. “I'll rest when I'm dead.”

Half an hour before their descent Bucky wakes everyone up. Yelena seemed to be well-rested, what with using Bob's arm as a pillow, and of course John who somehow woke up on the floor of the quinjet with Ava sleeping on the chair beside him. Alexei had been keeping Bucky awake for the duration of the trip, recounting his conquests in Russia as the Red Guardian which made Bucky question the accuracy of his stories.

They hid the quinjet in a secluded warehouse and began the trek to Bucky's place. Moving through the lively cobblestone streets of Livorno undetected. The air smelt strongly of salt and brine, ships both large and small were entering the harbor, and the faint hollers of sailors could be heard coming from the docks. Long lines of laundry could be seen hung across the windows of houses, pink bougainvilleas lined the streets. Bucky takes them through a set of narrow alleyways, passing by a group of teenagers heading down to the beach and a man singing an Italian love whilst playing an guitar.

They stop at one of the houses at the end of what seemed to be the umpteenth alleyway they've walked through. Bucky approaches the front door first, kicking what was a pebble out of his way, to knock. It had white bouganvilleas crawling all over the front of the house, rows of different colored flowers in different sized pots lined the entrance, all the shutters painted green were closed. It didn't take long for them to notice the brightly colored drawings in chalk on the path they were standing on, scrawled on butterflies, rainbows, and flowers- or the purple bike with shimmery tassels and training wheels pushed to the side near the door and beside a golden pothos.

They exchanged glances of confusion- but also, a look of understanding.

The door creaks open and they see a woman standing in between the gap, unsure if she was supposed to look happy or confused. She looked like she had just woken up but had gotten dressed to go somewhere. “James what are- oh my god what happened to your face?” You began, opening the door wider to step outside, taking Bucky's face into your hands.

That's when they all see it.

The wedding ring glinting in the morning sunlight, clear as day. They all slowly, almost comically, turn to look at eachother, baffled. John's mouth parted in shock, Ava's brows rose, Yelena's eyes widened.

“James??? ” Ava mumbled in shock.

Yelena opens her mouth, closes it, then shrugs- frowning at the girl.

“She's got a ring.” John mouthed to the group, with his hand concealing one side of his mouth. Yelena rolls her eyes so far back it hurts.

“Bucky's married???” Bob's whispers suit, clearly in disbelief.

“I told you.” Alexei enunciates joyfully, pointing at Bob's face, jaw on the floor. But who wasn't at this point?

They just found out Bucky has been married this whole time.

“Hey, don't worry about it, it's nothing.” Says Bucky, taking your hands into his. “It looks worse than it feels, trust me.”

You placed your other hand on your hips, eyeing him oh so incredulously before you narrowed your eyes at him. “Sure it is, tell that to someone who believes you, hmm?”

Bucky glances over his shoulder to look at his team, their intense yet homely demeanour only demanded more questions out of you. “We needed a place to squat for a day or two, think of a plan… we couldn't risk going back to the compound or Geneva.” He says to you as you look at them curiously. “I promise we weren't followed, we scrubbed our tracks clean.”

You exhaled deeply, lifting a hand to cup his cheek- your thumb grazing over the stubble that had formed over the course of several weeks without it being touched by a razor blade. “Could’ve called me, told me you were coming… I could’ve cleaned up a little.”

Bucky smiles. Smiles. The rest of them don't know whether to watch in horror or in awe. “Had to see you again somehow, one week is never enough.”

You snort in suppressed laughter before you glanced towards the rest of the team. “You guys must be tired as hell, I hope James hasn't run you into the ground by now. Come in!” She smiled warmly, her head motions towards the inside of the house. “Dropped by just in time, you guys like pancakes?”

“Yes please.” Bob chirped from the side, earning a glance from the others. They all file into a single line as they enter the home, you could tell that somebody lived here and not squats here on occasion- what with the mismatched pieces of furniture that complimented the interior of the house well. There was your standard coffee table except it looked like a smaller picnic table, a bookcase lined with endless books, odd trinkets, photographs, a TV, a vintage lamp, another vintage lamp near the 8-seater dining table, a gramophone sitting by the corner of the room in pristine condition.

Then they see a teepee in the shape of a princess castle, little animals dressed in vintage clothes beneath the TV having a tea party next to a well-furnished toy townhouse with multiple rooms, stuffed animals, barbie dolls on top of the coffee table, books with brightly colored illustrations scattered across the floor with endless crayons and pencils, and a backpack with pieces of paper sticking out from the opening.

At the top left of one of the papers, there was a scrawled on name written in pencil. Madeline Barnes.

“Don't mind the mess, we're usually much tidier if we knew we'd be having guests over.” She says, gesturing to the mess on the floor. “I'm Y/N, by the way. You guys don't have to introduce yourselves anymore, James tells me a lot about all of you.”

“We didn't even know you existed.” Ava uttered, astonished, mirroring the dumbfounded expression the rest of them had as they stared at Bucky with his arm around his wife's waist- looking at you with so much love in his eyes that the rest of them felt like this was a social experiment. Bucky? Married? Bucky? In love? It didn't sit right with them at all. They were four words they'd never imagined would fit altogether in a sentence.

“Yeah, well I had to keep that part of my life a secret for a reason. It's why I've been disappearing every now and then.” Bucky explains, and all of a sudden it starts making sense. One by one they all managed to grapple with the fact that Bucky lived with a wife here, and a daughter.

“Is she up yet?” He whispered. You shook your head from side to side.

“Nah, Maddie was still asleep when I went downstairs. She might be now though.” You tell Bucky like you anticipated what was to happen next. Then from the floor above them, they could hear the sound of feet rapidly padding across the floor and then out of nowhere a little girl in purple pajamas ran down the stairs. Bucky bent down to grab her and she leaped into his arms- overcome with giggles as she squirmed in Bucky's grip.

“d'you miss me, sweetheart?”

The little girl nods adamantly, deep blue eyes glistening with excitement. “Uh-huh! I missed you sooooo much, Daddy. Loads and loads. Last night I dreamt that the next day when I woke up you'd be there and then I whispered it to Mommy cuz I thought it was silly, but she was kinda asleep so I don't think she heard me and then I woke up today and I heard your voice!”

Bucky couldn't help but laugh. “What??? You're kidding, there's no way you could have guessed I was coming to visit today.”

“But I did, and now you're here! I have magic, I'm just like Twilight!” She affirmed, grinning at him as she toys with his hair. But then she pauses. “Daddy, are you having a playdate?”

“No, sweetheart, why?” Bucky wonders, furrowing his brows.

She glances at the rest of his teammates. “Cuz all your friends are here!”

“Yeah, no, we're not having a playdate honey. I brought them over here because we got tired… playing and they're hungry.” Bucky explains briefly, shooting them all a look as they all nodded and agreed as a collective.

“Sure are… we're really tired from all the running around… that we did.” Says John.

Ava laughs, nodding. “Pshh, super tired. All the other people we were playing with didn't stand a chance! They dropped dead in seconds!” Ava earned a jab on the side from Yelena.

The shorter woman laughed nervously. “What she meant was that we were so fast that we caught them all, and they lost and… went back home.”

Her eyes lit up. “What were you guys playing? Can I play too?!? Mommy i'm going to get my outside slippers-”

You intervened, shaking your head as you took Maddie from Bucky’s arms, bringing her away. “Nuh-uh no one’s playing outside until we have breakfast.” You tell her as her lower lip protrudes into a pout, that is until she realizes what was placed on top of the dining table.

“YAAAY! Pancakes!” She squealed, pumping her tiny fists into the air as you placed her on her designated seat at the dining table. “Wait… Mommy, did you read my mind or something? I was dreaming about pancakes last night, yknow.” She accuses you with a suspicious look on her face.

“No baby, I just knew.” You tell her, smiling. “Must be a coincidence, huh?”

Maddie giggled as you fixed her curly hair out of her face. “Yeah, coins-incident.”

“You had tiny soldier all along, eh?” Alexei whispered fondly, draping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Looks very much like you, beautiful girl. Reminds me of my ‘Lena when she was little. I hope you and the wife gave yourselves a pat on the back after uhh… hanky-panky. Nicely done, my friend.”

Yelena makes a grumbling noise somewhere on their right as you invite the rest of them to take a seat. “Let's eat now, yes?” She called out rather impatiently.

Bucky shoots him a look. “Thanks?”

Alexei pays no mind and simply keeps going. “Very rewarding, fatherhood. Being father? not easy, but very worth it. Fighting off grizzly bear in the forest in Winter with nothing but nail clipper and beer bottle? Much easier. When she learns how to shoot with a glock for the first time? You find you will cry a lot, tears and the snot.”

You appear on Bucky's left, carrying a pitcher of orange juice you've retrieved from the fridge. “You two can bond over being fathers after the three-year-old gremlin in purple and the rest of the assassins in this room get to eat a proper meal, okay?” You pat him on the chest before moving towards the table.

“Lucked out on wife too! Such wonderful hostess, you will build strong army of little soldiers soon, I am counting on it.” Alexei grinned. “I cannot wait to share wisdom words to you as a father who raised his little girls into becoming strong, cutthroat killers.”

“Appreciate it, man.” Bucky replies, trying not to sigh.

They all settled and ate the wonderful breakfast spread consisting not only of a hefty stack of pancakes but fresh berries, hash browns, bacon, and sunny side up eggs- of course with chocolate milk and orange juice to wash it all down.

“Sorry, we just ran out of coffee. I hope the chocolate milk will suffice for now.” You say, as you passed the plate of bacon to John who briefly muttered a ‘thank you’ to you.

“I haven't had chocolate milk in forever.” Says Yelena in assurance. “It's no issue.”

Maddie's jaw dropped in shock. “What??? But how???”

Yelena shrugged, leaning back against her chair almost cooly. “There was a really bad man that didn't let me drink chocolate milk for a long time.”

Maddie seemed outraged, like the foulest of offenses against humanity have been committed- and it might as well have. “You can come here and drink as much chocolate milk as you want, I wouldn't mind! My Mommy wouldn't mind either! Right Mommy?”

You nodded in agreement, chuckling. “Yup, Auntie Yelena can come over and drink as much chocolate milk as she wants.”

“Oh! Also Auntie Ava.” Maddie added with a toothy grin, making the woman sitting across from her smile gratefully. “And then we'll play princess mermaids in my room and I'll teach them how to curtsy and wave while riding the carriage like a real princess.”

“What about the boys, can they play too?” Ava wondered with a smirk, as she glanced over to look at Alexei, Bob, and John who sat at the other edge of the table. Yelena lets out a laugh.

“Only if they want to be pulling our carriage.” Maddie mutters before taking a sip of chocolate milk from her my little pony cup, making the rest of you erupt with laughter.

Yelena snorts. “Hear that Walker? She's making you be the horse.”

“What if I wanna be the footman?” John says. “Can't I be a footman? ”

“Hey man, if she lets you play it's best not to ask any questions.” Says Bucky before taking a sip of water. “Trust me.”

“If you want, you can be one of the princess's pet chickens! They ride inside the carriage!”

Right on cue, Bob chokes on his juice and cleverly plays it off as an accident.

“So uhh, Y/N.” John began, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of the conversation. “How'd you and Bucky meet?”

Your eyes move across the dining table, meeting Bucky's eyes as he looks at you knowingly. “Funny story actually uhh, I was sent on a mission to track down one of HYDRA's elitist assets after the fall of SHIELD. I followed him all the way to Romania, then Vienna, stalked him. Then the whole bombing at the United Nations happened just as they were about to sign the Sokovia Accords. Went back to my superiors empty handed because of his involvement with the Avengers.” You tell them. “Second time around, I tracked him all the way into Wakanda, nearly lost an arm because of it. He fought me off exceptionally well for a man with just one arm, and then when it came to it I just couldn't kill him.”

“Then they fell in love and got married.” Maddie finished before taking a bite of her pancakes. “Then came me, the end! ”

“So, who did you work for?” Yelena wonders, raising a quizzical brow.

Your tongue kissed your teeth before ushering Maddie to finish her glass of water and turn on the TV to watch her cartoons. To which she happily agreed. When she was preoccupied only then did you continue.

“I was one of the defected Widows they threw out after they realized we were no good at our job. They saw us as liabilities in the field. We never completed our training hence…” You tell her looking over at your daughter, giggling at the TV. You cleared your throat and continued. “Dreykov wanted us gone but I guess the world hasn't had enough of me yet so I crawled my way out, got back on my own two feet. Ended up on the streets of Madripoor, living off of people's wallets. I started working as a shadow operative for one of the most elusive crime bosses in Southeast Asia, but I wanted an out- a clean slate so I agreed to help Bucky and Sam out when they were taking down the Flag Smashers, covertly.” She finishes, eyes landing on John who stared at her like she'd grown another arm from her head.

“Dreykov orders firing squads, they dispose of the bodies in the incinerator.” Yelena told you, clearly puzzled. “How did you-”

“Just not mine.” You reply, a faint smirk ghosting on your lips. “I guess Dreykov isn't so good at cleaning his tracks afterall.”

After clearing all the plates and Ava offering to help with the dishes, you, Bucky, Alexei, and John went outside as they needed a change of bandages. You weren't about to scar your child. So you left her in the living room with the rest of the team, telling her to be on her best behavior.

“Jesus, they look so bright now.” Yelena says all of a sudden as she frowned at the television. Maddie sat in the middle of the living room with her dollhouse as she played with the fuzzy animals, writing a story as she went along.

“What?” Bob says from beside Maddie, holding a small husky in a sweater vest and slacks.

“The ponies.” She says, pointing her chin towards the television. “They used to be… easier on the eyes.”

“You used to watch My Little Pony?” Bob chuckles.

“Yeah, back in Ohio. My favorite was Twilight, I'd always force my sister to watch it with me but she never wanted to.” She smiled, remembering the times during her childhood where the days seemed brighter, warmer.

Maddie stopped playing to turn around to look at Yelena. “She's my favorite too!”

Yelena grinned. “Really?”

“She's my favoritest favorite out of all the Mane 6, my pajamas have Twilight all over them!” She points out, pointing at her sleeve where an outline of Twilight in a darker purple could be seen. She only now notices how Maddie's pajamas were full of Twilight's face alongside her cutie mark. “Do you have any other favorites, Auntie Lena?”

She then proceeds to think. “Hmm, Rainbow Dash is a close second.”

Her eyes glimmered with interest as she takes into account Yelena's answer. “Fluttershy is my favoritest favorite number 2.” She says, turning back to her toys. “Uncle Bob is a lot like Fluttershy, cuz they’re both very quiet but really nice.”

“You think so?” Bob wonders earnestly as he watches the little girl arrange a rabbit family inside the doll houses' living room to make it seem like they were watching TV just like the three of them were.

She looks up at him. “Uh-huh!” Maddie replied. “And so is, Auntie Lena, and Auntie Ava, and Alexei… and only the tiniest bit Uncle John cuz Daddy said that before when I was a baby he was pretending to be his best friend Uncle Steve and hit him and Uncle Sam a lot. But now he's not a sock sucker anymore? I don't know, that's what Daddy said. Then Mommy got mad.”

Yelena sits up from her once laxed position on the sofa. “You really think that?”

“Uh-huh.” She explains, fixing her hair out of her face. “I know it, cuz you guys are playing with me. So you guys are nice people.”

Yelena meets Bob's eyes amidst the momentary pause in conversation. The lives they’ve led were not anything to be proud of, not in the slightest. They were in this constant cycle of shame and regret that they’ve allowed it to nestle deep inside themselves and eat them from the inside out. Yet this child thinks they were nice people regardless. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know what they’ve done, it mattered that someone said it, that someone sees past their faults.

“Uncle Bob! the Dad needs to be in the garage, not the bathroom! He just got home from the office!” Maddie interrupted, bringing them back to the moment.

“Oh sorry, right.” says Bob, bringing the husky out of the house and have him enter through the back door. Bob clears his throat. “Honey! i’m h-“

“-Not like that!” Maddie whines, laughing. “Why is your voice so weird?”

“I had creative freedom and I took it,” Bob defended. “Okay, i’ll start over.”

“Can I join?” Yelena asks all of a sudden, intrigued.

“Okay! You can be the girl husky. She owns this hamburger stand and sells hamburgers and fries and also soda.” Maddie blurted out excitedly, pulling the little hamburger stand closer to the house as Yelena moved to sit on the floor beside Maddie. She lets out a sound of approval.

Maddie settles back into position. “Okay, Uncle Bob, we can start now!”

“Honey, i’m h-“

“Nooo, Uncle Bob his wife isn’t at home! She's working at the burger stand!” Maddie frowned, pointing at the burger stand where the other Husky stood behind the cashier. Perfectly orchestrated, Yelena wheezed out a laugh.

“But I thought his wife was the Rabbit…” Bob trailed off, looking up at Yelena for help who only snickered at his misfortune.

“Let’s just do it again.” Maddie sighed quietly, crawling towards her school bag before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Okay, I'll read from this, you two can just act it out.”

“She’s got a script, this whole time...”

“Yeah, this is definitely Bucky’s kid.”

Later in the day, after they’ve had lunch and Maddie woke up from her nap- they all decided to get some fresh air in the backyard. Maddie suggested they play freeze tag, Ava was currently it and had been chasing Bob around the expanse of the backyard like a bloodthirsty maniac, but then she spots Alexei crouching behind the garden shed. When he realizes what was happening he makes a break for it- he grabs a fistful of grass and throws it at Ava's face in hopes to distract her as he turns around the garden shed and runs away, laughing.

But then he doesn't expect Maddie to be on the other side and tags him, he was now frozen until somebody else manages to unfreeze him. John had been standing in the middle of it all as he had been frozen for a good 15 minutes now, but raised his arm to scratch his nose.

“WALKER, YOU'RE FROZEN FOR CHRIST SAKE.” Ava yells. “Act like it!”

“UNCLE JOHN IS CHEATING!” Maddie cries out, pointing at him like he's been accused of witchcraft.

John screws his face tight. “Can you people relax? It's just a game.”

“Surprise, surprise he's talking out of his ass again.” Yelena grumbled, making Maddie burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I heard that!” Bucky warns from his seat beside you as you chuckled.

“We've said worse things, in front of her accidentally. You don't have to worry.” You tell him, shooting him an earnest look. “Not when I threatened her that if she said another bad word an evil witch would come flying through her bedroom window and break all her toys.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “That's why she told me to check if the windows were shut tight the last time I visited."

You laughed through your nose. “Worked like a charm.”

Bucky and You continued to watch the rest of your teammates and your daughter run around the backyard of your home, carefree laughter filling the salty air. You glance back at Bucky watching the scene with a faint smile ghosting at his lips, you notice the threads of silver weaved through his hair, you notice how the lines beside his eyes are deeper, how he slumped against the backrest of the garden chair- so relaxed, at peace. Then he notices you looking at him and looks at you, his smile grows larger. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Nothing, just… thinking about how you gave me this.” You say alluding to everything your heart held dear. “This life, our daughter.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, that's where you're wrong. You gave me all this, all this and everything I could have ever possibly dreamed of.” He tells you, eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly as his eyes study every point of your face like he hasn't done it a million times before.

“I've never prayed much in my life before but sometimes I think God is merciful because He gave me you.”

You don't speak, you let him continue. Quite frankly, you're stunned.

Bucky wasn't done, not even a little bit. “I'm not proud of my past, what I've done, who I was. But you, Maddie, you two made me realise that maybe I'm not a monster, that maybe I was worth saving, that I deserved another chance. I'm the luckiest man on this entire planet because of it.” He says. “You saw me, the real me. Some days I forget that I lived most of my life ashamed of myself, you did that.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes all of a sudden. “Someone had to show you that the people who believe they aren't worth saving are the ones that need saving the most. I'm just glad you let me, with your stubbornness and all.”

Bucky laughs, looking away. He wipes a tear collecting from the side of his eyes and looks back at you. “I wouldn't be who I am today without you.”

“So would I.” You returned, looking at his dog tags and the wedding band strung through the chain as it rested atop his chest. “We saved each other. When I was a Widow I thought that that was all I was ever going to be, fight, do some sadist's dirty work, die in an alley in some foreign country with no one to mourn me.” You say as Bucky listened to you with utmost intent.

“I thought that if those were the cards I was dealt with, then fine. But then when I found a way out I realized my story didn't end with the Red Room, I fought, I spied, I went on missions and then the one asset I couldn't kill slips outta my fingers like sand.” You say, accentuating your statement with a little chuckle. Bucky himself laughs, almost like he was proud of himself.

“You showed me there was more to life than what I thought there was. I never knew I was gonna get married, be someone's mother.” You continued. “We could've never had this if we hadn't saved each other.”

“You're right.” Bucky says, sincere. “I thought I was gonna be born and buried in Brooklyn, but I could have never guessed this was how I was gonna end up.”

“What, a DILF?” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky's smile drops too fast; it makes you let out a raucous laugh. “Again with that word. You gotta know I still don't know what that means nor do I ever want to know.”

“Dad I'd like to fuck?” You say, grinning at him.

“I mean sure, there's plenty of time for that later on.” Bucky shrugs, shooting you a sly look. You roll your eyes. “Right time, right place, doll.”

“Huh,” you enunciate looking at the sky, lost in thought. “Where'd I last hear you say that? Oh yeah, two months before our wedding and then we ended up in the moving truck while we were moving the stupid bed-”

“-Was it?” Bucky asks you, frowning. “Seemed like it was yesterday, we were sleeping on the floor of the house taking turns rocking Maddie's cradle because she wouldn't settle.”

You poke his side. “That was seven months after we got married.”

Bucky shoots you a cheeky grin, flinching at the sudden action as he laughs. “Time flies by so fast.”

“It's been three years,” You sighed. “Jesus, she's growing up too fast.” You turned to look at Maddie on Alexei's shoulders as they were being chased by Ava, Yelena and John were seated on the swings engaging in a conversation that miraculously didn't have them wringing each other’s necks, and Bob was sitting on the grass watching the scene as you and Bucky were.

“I'm gonna enjoy every moment I can carry her around without her telling me she's embarrassed while I can.” Bucky tells you. “The day I hear those words I won't know what to do with myself.”

“Eventually the tea parties, the bedtime stories, and her choosing to sleep in our bed even if she's got her own are gonna end and I'm not ready for that.”

“I don't think we ever will.” Bucky concluded, turning to look at you once more. “The same way she won't be ready to hear about what we had to do in the past to survive.”

“she'll understand.” You say, tone full of hope. “we earned this.”

Bucky gazes into your eyes, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Did I tell you how much I love you? Because frankly I don't think I do it enough. I love you, I love you with everything I am and with everything I can offer. Thank you for knowing me inside and out and still finding someone worth loving.”

You laughed, bright with melancholy as you sniffed, tears overcoming you once again. “I love you more, not just because you're my husband, not just because you're Maddie's father, but because you showed me that loving someone wasn't a sign of weakness- that I didn't need to bleed myself dry to get somebody to see me and love me… all of me.”

“I'd do it again,” says Bucky tenderly, reaching out to dry your cheek. “As much as I need to.”

“So would I,” You added. “As long as you'd let me.”

“Forever, then.” Bucky decided.

“Forever.” You finished.

That night after a long and wonderful dinner full of laughter and stories that made some hold onto the edge of their seats and the rest gasp in thrill, it was time for bed. With the rest of the boys deciding over who got to sleep on the couch and who would sleep on the floor with a game of paper football, the girls got the privilege of sleeping in Maddie's room. And like the courteous host she was, she introduced them to all 25 of her stuffed animals currently occupying her room.

Eventually she gave up after the number 12 and was whisked away by Bucky into your bedroom for the night. Not after she decided to bid everyone by name a good night, that was when she closed her blue eyes shut and was fast asleep. That night you watched Bucky and Maddie sleep peacefully under the glow of her favorite night light. How she was enveloped by Bucky's arms like she always wanted- her small hand wrapped around Bucky's metal one, how she starts to look like an exact replica of him as the days go by and that was fine with you, for the most part.

Tonight there was no fighting, noise, or danger. No, there was just you, your daughter, your husband, and his rag-tag team of antiheroes turned heroes sleeping soundly around your house.

You let your eyes close all on their own, knowing that this wasn't a dream and that when you wake up in the morning they will still be there.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

dts: @dylsvqid @94namkooksworld @worldofsaturnsblog @wildflowersandvibranium @tmblrgirls777

[its-vishnu-stuff]

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