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marvel-lucy · 4 years

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The Ultimate Weapon, postscripts

Because I wanted people to suffer, when I wrote my first fic I made it very long, and then added three chapters of postscripts. I’ve merged those three chapters here because quite frankly, nobody needs this crap on their dashboard :) It’s HUGE as a result. Still, here’s Bucky because that makes everything better.

Bucky and I didn’t sleep together that night, or not in the euphemistic sense any way, although we did in the 'falling asleep' sense. He carried me back to his room and we lay on his bed, kissing, then talking, then kissing more, for hours. I felt intoxicated with the taste of him; the salty feel of his tongue on mine; the shivers as he slowly whisper-kissed down my neck. I would have done anything he asked that night, but he didn’t ask and I didn’t know how to.

We feel asleep eventually, waking up in each other’s arms and I could have spent the rest of the day there, watching Bucky sleep. His lips were swollen and red, and I knew I’d done that. His hair was tousled, and it was my fingers that had tangled in it and pulled, making him whimper with desire. There was a red mark just below his collar, and I knew it was my teeth that had put it there. I loved lying there and looking at how I’d marked him, labelled him ‘mine’.

“What you staring at doll?” I didn’t realise he’d woken up, but his blue eyes were watching me watching him. His lips curled into a slow smile and he pulled me closer with the arm that was wrapped around my waist. We were both still fully dressed, his tie was undone and our shoes were off but I was still wearing the red dress I’d regretfully put on the night before, now twisted and hitched up uncomfortably. It felt perfect.

“Just some guy I like”

“Oh, some guy huh?” He tickled me gently on my back. “He anything special then? Should I check him out, make sure he’s legit?”

“Oh he’s something special, I guess. But he’s definitely not legit,” I leant forward and whispered in his ear. “And I like it that way.”

With a laugh, Bucky had rolled over, pulling me on top of him. It was no secret that he was aroused, I could feel the evidence beneath me and gave a little wiggle of my hips against him to make him groan. He wrapped his arms tight around me as I rested up on my elbows.

“You’re pretty damn special too,” he nuzzled his nose against my neck as he spoke. “You deserve so much good stuff, God you’ve missed out on so much, you…” He paused, and I took the opportunity to grind up against him again, my own moan joining his. Then, I let out a huff of disappointment as he rolled me off him and sat up.

“You have missed so damn much haven’t you?” I sat up too, puzzled at the sudden change.

“Um, well, I guess, yeah, but that doesn’t matter does it?”

“You’re 21 now but you haven’t had a chance to do all the normal adolescent stuff. You should do! OK, plan. I’m going to go shower and do some… stuff. You go shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen?” He kissed me on the lips and went to stand up before leaning back over and kissing me harder. I pulled against his neck to try and keep him there and he kissed me deeper still, but then pulled away.

“Don’t tempt me. And don’t pout!” He grinned. “Good things are coming doll”. And with that, he’d gone into the bathroom.

I flung myself back against the bed with frustrated desire, but now that Bucky had gone, I realised just how uncomfortable and grubby I felt, so sulkily I sat back up and got up. Feeling like a misbehaving teen, I was about to sneak along the corridor – although I knew I WAS allowed in someone else’s room – but then spotted one of Bucky’s sweatshirts on the back of a chair. I grabbed it up and held it to my face – he’d been wearing it yesterday and it still had the Bucky smell I loved. I smiled and took it with me as I went back to my room to shower.

Las time I’d dressed up, I’d ended up showering in my – well, Nat’s - clothes. At least this time I took my clothes off and my head felt a lot better. I showered, enjoying the sensation as the water stung against bite marks on my neck and shoulders; then dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, pulling Bucky’s sweatshirt over the top. It was of course too big for me, reaching mid-thighs and covering my hands, and I loved the feeling of being wrapped up in it.

I didn’t really know what was going on between us. He’d asked to kiss me, and I took that as a good sign that he’d wanted to, but was afraid that his odd behaviour this morning was a sign of regret, although it hadn’t felt like one. To be honest, I had no idea what it felt like.

I put some socks on, still enjoying the sensation of warmth and comfort that I got after all this time, and made my way to the kitchen. Most of the team were there, eating, drinking coffee, and just hanging out. I smiled from the doorway at this group, who’d become my friends against all the odds, before they spotted me. Tony saw me first and winked.

“Good night there, Mole?” he asked with a salacious grin, so I slapped the back of his head as I went to get some food, bringing a snigger from Natasha nearby.

In the kitchen, Bucky was making something that smelled amazing. He had his back to me, so I put my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his back, and he turned in my arms to squeeze me.

“Oh that’s where my sweatshirt went, you damn thief!”

“It looks way cuter on me though” I posed as I spoke and he grinned, pulling me in tight again until a sizzle from the pan behind him made him let go.

“Breakfast is served, beautiful,” he dished something up on to the plates by the stove and handed me one. Bacon and toast were steaming on the dish and my stomach rumbled. I poured out some coffee for both of us and we went back into the dining area, sitting close enough that our legs were touching.

The team gradually made their way over until everyone was sitting around the table, eating and drinking and talking. I felt a wave of affection for them.

“Hey, everyone. Thank you. For my birthday. And for the presents. And the balloons! And, for, taking me in”. I was probably blushing again not helped when Tony rolled his eyes and pointed out that I’d already said thank you all last night. “I know, but you’re al here together, and I just… wanted to”

“Actually I want to say something now you’re all together too,” that was Bucky.

“I realised this morning that Ruby has missed out all those teenage milestones. I wanna, well, re-do them,” his eyes were sparkling and I hadn’t seen him look this happy before. “Stuff all kids get to do. So, what are your suggestions?”

There was a bit of a clamour at that. Steve declared it the cutest idea ever, like the big softie he was. Natasha said her favourite teenage memory was the first time she broke a man’s arm with her thighs. At that, I pointed out that nobody in the room had had a normal adolescence

“Tony – billionaire with absentee parents. Sorry Tony,” he nodded his agreement at the statement and gave me a smile. “Clint – raised in an orphanage. You and Steve – both teenagers 80 years ago. Natasha – teenage assassin… Need I go on?”

“I guess that makes me Mr Normal then!” Sam spoke up. “I’m your expert!”

“OK, 14 to 21. What’s she missed out?” I was torn between amusement and embarrassment at this, but it was all in good fun so listened in as Sam, and then the whole team, gradually started coming up with ideas. A minute later, Bucky stood up and started rooting through a cupboard before finding a piece of paper and a pen. I muttered ‘seriously?’ as he started writing a list.

*Cinema date. Making out in the back seat of a car. Your boyfriend climbing the drainpipe to sneak into your room…

“My room is on the 36th floor Bucky!” I protested.

“Ooh, prom!” Sam said, as everyone ignored my interjection.

The list continued. ‘First breakup, sweet 16, temper tantrums, graduation, first alcohol, first hangover, learning to drive…’

Eventually the list stopped, as the ideas started getting more ridiculous.

“Right, one more thing to add,” Bucky said, standing up and moving into the kitchen. “You get to have your teenage years all in one go, sugar. Trust me, it’ll be worth it when you’re all grown up.” He added something to the list then stuck it to the fridge with a magnet before giggling to himself and leaving the room.

I stood up to see what he’d done and then stopped, stock still in the middle of the room, as the rest of the Avengers also looked and then cracked up with laughter. I could feel my face burning up.

The list started innocently enough: ‘learn to drive, graduate, first date, prom…’ but then at the bottom, Bucky had written ‘have sex with good looking guy’ and drawn a damn winky face next to it. Whoever taught him about emojis had a lot to answer for.

I muttered ‘shut up the lot of you’ while also trying not to smile, and left the room to find Bucky. He was back in his room, looking something up on the computer and gave me a beaming smile when I knocked and entered.

“What do you think then?”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. Well, yea, I thought It might be fun…” his face fell. “I was going to take you out on a date. I mean, if you don’t want to though…”

It hadn’t occurred to me he really meant this but when I thought about the list, and all the things it represented, I felt tears well up unexpectedly. He was right. I’d been taken as a 14-year-old, just starting my adolescent life, and dumped back in the world at 20. I couldn’t ever get those years back, but this was a way to at least have fun pretending, to get a flavour of normal life and to just be silly for a while. The fact that someone wanted to do this for me, something so ridiculous and so meaningful, hit me hard.

“I love it,” I pushed the computer off his lap and sat there myself, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling us close together. “I love that you’re giving me back what I missed out on.” He smiled again and kissed me and for a while, everything else was forgotten.

A little later, Bucky pulled himself away from me, making me whine with displeasure.

“Mm, I’d stay here all day if I could, sweetheart,” his voice was throaty with desire. “But I’ve got some dates to plan. Go work out with Steve, use up some energy. If you stay here, I’m not going to be able to resist you.” He winked and then picked me up and dumped me off his lap. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Get gone, temptress” and I laughed as I made my way out of the room.

So I did go and work out. I punched bags and ran on the treadmill and lifted weights and wore myself out for hours because it was still sometimes the only way I could stop myself thinking. Despite everything the Avengers had done, I still hadn’t come to terms yet with what I was, what I’d done. Sometimes physical exhaustion was the only way to get out of my head. I’d been there for about three hours when Steve came in. I asked if he wanted to spar but he said he wanted to talk. That felt ominous. I was still a little twitchy that at any point I’d be asked to leave because I didn’t fit in.

But it wasn’t that.

“You know, Bucky likes you, don’t you?” That was unexpected. I guess I looked puzzled. I mean, we’d kissed sure. A lot. And I would happily do it some more. But I figured that Bucky just wanted someone to kiss, and there weren’t that many opportunities to meet people when you were an ex-assassin with a metal arm.

“He’s just having fun Steve. It’s fine. You know I’m grateful to you all, for, well, everything. Putting up with me? Accepting me. Bucky’s my friend…”

“So what, are you saying you kissed him out of gratitude? Or a sense of obligation?” Steve looked angry now, I guess that wouldn’t fit his moral code.

“No, no! I…” Ugh. Blushing. Don’t look him in the eyes. Not that that was hard, he was so much taller than me. Looking straight on, I was eye to eye with his nipples. OK, no, that was weird too. “I… like Bucky. A lot. I mean, um. A lot.” Looking down now, eyes on the floor, don’t want to see Cap smirking at me. “He’s… saved me I guess. I feel safe with him. More than safe. I just, like being near him. A lot. But I know what I am, what Hydra made me, I know there’s not going to be anything out there for me, so I’m OK with whatever Bucky wants.”

I wasn’t being very articulate but I really didn’t want this conversation. I went to leave the gym but Steve held onto my arm, and there was no way I could break free of that helicopter-pulling grip without a lot more effort. I took a deep breath and met his gaze, expecting to see a look of amusement at my confession. I didn’t.

“You deserve more than you think. You’re more than what Hydra made you. Just like Bucky.” I blinked. I forgot sometimes that Bucky had been through years of Hydra ‘training’ too. He had his own issues. He’d been free for longer than me and had more time to deal with them, but I also knew that they weren’t buried all that deep.

“You’re as good for Buck as he is for you. And he cares about you. ‘A lot’.” He mimicked my tone and gave me a grin, I guess he’d seen through my verbal shorthand and knew what I meant by that ‘a lot’. He pulled me in towards him and wrapped his ridiculous arms around me then ruffled my hair as I pulled back, exclaiming that I was all sweaty. “Don’t push him away kid, because you don’t think you deserve it.” He let me go and I nodded and walked out of the gym, turning back to hear him call out.

“And you kids enjoy your date tonight!” He was grinning, and I had no idea what he meant.

I got back to my room, showered and changed, and then noticed a text on my phone.

‘Date, tonight? Stark Cinema, 8pm. I’ll pick you up. Bx’

I smiled as I texted back a yes.

At 8pm, there was a knock at my door and on opening it, I found Bucky grinning at me with glee. His eyes were sparkling, and he looked as damn gorgeous as always.

“Hey doll. Wanna go on a date?” Oh, he could charm the birds out of the trees. I loved it but I’d seen him charm everyone from Steve to Thor and so I didn’t take it too seriously. Nonetheless, I took the arm he offered me and felt a spark of electricity jolt through me.

“I know you don’t like crowds that much, so we’re not going out. That OK with you?” I nodded, grateful that we weren’t going to go and sit in a public cinema, but wondering how the usual Avengers movie night was really going to be a date. I guess this really was all just a joke.

When we got to the cinema room though, things were different. The screening room had couches and chairs all scattered here and there normally but someone – Bucky, I guessed – had lined them up in rows like a proper cinema. There was a sign in Bucky’s handwriting saying ‘reserved’ on the back couch. He sat me down on it with a wink.

“Gotta get the back row for a date, right?” The rest of the team started filing in and Bucky played up to his role, showing them to their seats, much to everyone’s amusement. Tony decided he wanted some popcorn at which Bucky pushed him back into his seat and brought out a carton, holding it out to Tony but then moving it out of his reach.

“Five bucks, Stark.”

“What?! You do know this is MY Tower and MY cinema room, Robocop?!”

“Five bucks. Don’t be a cheap date, you’re showing yourself up in front of Pepper.” Pepper grinned and joined in.

“Aren’t I worth it Tony?” Stark sighed and handed over the money, then yelled as Bucky handed out popcorn to everyone else for free. Once everyone was settled, he came and sat next to me on the sofa and set the movie going. It was a comedy – most of the team liked the lighter films, the tension of horrors and the violence of action films often just a little too close to home (although Thor always wanted ‘more blood!’).

Part way through the film, I realised that Bucky had been gradually moving closer to me on the couch. I saw him yawning and then realised he was going for the ‘yawn and stretch’ cliché and felt his arm wrap around my shoulders. I might not have got out much between the ages of 14 and 20, for reasons I don’t need to go into, but I’d seen enough rom-coms as a teenager to know this was a classic date move and it made me giggle. He squeezed my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Told you, going to do ALL the teenage high points. Cheesy ones and all.”

We finished watching the movie and then Bucky let Tony choose another as an apology. By now I was curled up against Bucky’s side and holding his hand. This might all be a farce but it felt good nonetheless.

At the end of the movie, everyone gradually made their way back to their rooms. Bucky and I walked back to my room, arms around each other, and I expected – and hoped – he’d come in. At the door, he stopped though, and turned me towards him. He tilted my chin up with one finger and slowly, gently kissed me. If his other arm hadn’t been holding me up, I’m pretty sure I’d have fallen over. I had it BAD. If just a kiss could make my knees weak, what hope was there? Hydra hadn’t given me the training for this.

I felt him smile against my lips, and he kissed me again then broke away. I opened my door and looked at him questioningly, inviting him in, but he shook his head.

“Not on that stage of the list yet, sweetheart.” He started to walk away, but turned and pulled me against him again, kissing me harder and making me gasp. “Not saying it’s easy to resist though...” and then he broke away again and left.

I shut the door behind me and then flung myself down on the bed. I had no life experience to explain this.

The next day, I woke up to another text message. ‘Would you accompany me to dinner on Friday, beautiful?’ I smiled to myself as I replied. The week passed slowly, because I was twitchy and wanting Friday evening to come. I did some training, I did some laundry, and I studied with Tony and Steve, but time dragged. Sam asked if I wanted to talk, as we hadn’t for a while, but I said no. I wanted to try and gauge people’s opinions of what was going on with Bucky but at the same time, I was too chicken. I felt like a kid playing at being an adult again, and I didn’t want to be laughed at, reading too much into what was just a fun game. Deep down, I knew I was still just a scarred ex-Hydra tool, and that wasn’t what the magazines told you was desirable. I knew too that my confidence and happiness were still just a pretty thin veneer over the anxiety and the fear, so I kept myself quiet and tried to enjoy things for what they were, not scratch the surface and release the things I was trying to bury.

By mid-afternoon on Friday though, I was a bit of a ball of nerves. Bucky had arranged that we would be eating out of the Tower, something that still scared me. I was fine with going outside but there was a little voice that wondered if Hydra were out there looking for me. I knew that Bucky and I could pretty much take down anything if needed, but I didn’t want to have to. Nat found me pacing on the roof garden with a scowl on my face and forced me to sit down with her.

“You know Bucky likes you, right?”

“Have you been talking to Steve?!” She looked at me, confused.

“What? Look, you need to stop worrying. Get yourself dolled up, enjoy dating an older man.” She winked at me as she said that and I smiled.

“We’re just friends Natasha,” I tried to convince her, then her words sunk in. “Wait, dolled up? Do I ned to dress up? Oh god you know I hate that!”

She smacked me lightly around the back of the head.

“Friends don’t kiss like that. And yes, you do. Come on.”

I let her take control, I’d long since realised it was just easier that way. She took me down to her room and sat me on the bed while she went through her closet, occasionally pulling something out and holding it out near me then scowling and hanging it back up. I knew better than to have any input, but I was glad when she finally handed over a dress that was a lot less… noticeable… than some of the ones she used on missions when she was undercover. White top, short sleeves, black skirt. I wasn’t comfortable with trying to look good – there was never going to be any competition with Nat or Wanda. Or Maria. Or Pepper… Or Tony or Steve, hell, any of them, let’s be honest. But at least I would look presentable.

So at 7pm, I was nervously waiting in my room again. I was berating myself for my nerves. This was Bucky. Bucky, who trained with me, and helped me with panic attacks and… had kissed me. Oh god, yes, nerves.

When I opened the door to his knock, he was smiling sweetly and looking as hot as hell in a suit. I tried to pretend I hadn’t whimpered at the sight. He handed me a bunch of flowers and kissed my cheek.

“Dinner, sweetheart?”

Bucky was the perfect ‘40s gent and I could see why the stories that Steve had told about him being such a hit with the ladies must be true. He held doors open for me, took my coat, pulled out my chair. I could see the waiter swooning over him and was feeling pretty swoony myself. He’d chosen a pretty quiet restaurant and we were seated near the back, which was a relief. I know we both hated to have our backs exposed.

“You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” To an ex-Hydra weapon, that was a real romantic gesture and I couldn’t help but smile.

The meal was nice and the conversation was good. Bucky was easy to talk to and we steered away from the hard topics – family, murder – all the things they tell you not to discuss at mealtimes (or is that religion and politics?) We talked favourite seasons and ice-cream flavours, argued about football versus basketball, cats versus dogs. We shared least favourite foods and bad jokes and taught each other some swearwords in other languages. Bucky opened up about his life ‘before’, about growing up with Steve, about his family. It was a side of him I’d never seen before.

When the bill came, I made the mistake of trying to split it. Wasn’t that what adults did? (Like I’d now. The last time I’d gone out for a meal my parents had paid… ok don’t think about that).

“Baby, this is a date and I’m old school. I’m paying.” He pulled out a card then grinned. “OK, well, Stark is, but it’s my signature.”

He helped me on with my coat, and opened the door for me, then walked around so he was on the side nearest the road and offered me his arm.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t how teenage dates normally go Bucky, teenagers aren’t this sweet or considerate!”

“They were in my day darling. Or I was anyway.” He kissed the side of my forehead as we walked. “And you deserve it.”

I was falling for him. Hard.

Making breakfast the next day (after another night alone, seen off with another fantastic kiss at my door), I noticed that someone – presumably Bucky – had been crossing things off the list on the fridge. I also noticed that someone – and I was pretty sure that was Tony’s handwriting – had added ‘so many to choose from’ to Bucky’s ‘have sex with a good looking guy’. I grinned. Like there was any choice.

I didn’t have to wait long for the next date. On Wednesday morning, Bucky appeared as I was finishing my breakfast and grabbed my hand.

“We gotta go before he realises!”

I tried to ask ‘what’ and ‘who’ but Bucky was pulling me along the corridors to the elevator. As Bucky pushed the button for the parking level, he held up something in his hand – one of Tony’s car keys – and his eyes flashed with wicked humour.

“Oh my god, you are in SO much trouble!”

That didn’t stop us of course. Bucky had picked one of Tony’s most expensive cars to teach me to drive in. He opened the passenger door for me and then got in the driver’s seat himself, and we set off, heading out into the countryside to the Avenger’s other compound. We were both laughing, especially when my phone and then Bucky’s both buzzed with text messages when Tony obviously realised we’d taken his precious car.

“Should I reply?” I giggled and Bucky nodded.

‘Thanks for letting me use the Ferrari to learn to drive Tony, you’re a sweetheart! Rx’

The reply, when it came, contained words that I’m sure would have made Steve faint.

When we got to the compound, Bucky leapt out before I could move and had opened my door again, then let me into the driver’s seat. I had no clue at all what I was doing and, I have to admit, driving a car that was – with Tony’s customisations – probably worth well over $500,000, was pretty nerve-wracking. But hell, it was fun.

The roads in the compound were smooth, there were no obstacles, no pedestrians and no other cars, so I hoped that I couldn’t do a huge amount of damage. I can’t say I did well, but it was my first lesson, and I only stalled a handful of times. And put the brakes on too hard once or twice… or three times. After about an hour, my muscles hurt from the tension of holding the wheel and Bucky was starting to look a little green with the motion sickness. I happily relinquished control and he drove us home to face the music.

When we got home, Tony harangued us like two naughty schoolchildren while we hung our heads, tried not to meet each other’s eyes and giggled. Eventually he sighed and gave up, before going to inspect his car to see if we’d hurt her.

Bucky kissed me again and went off to train with Steve and I headed back to my room, feeling lighter and happier than I had for a long time. Only a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and I opened it to find Tony standing there.

He came in, arms crossed, and I started to feel a little guilty. How would I pay if we HAD damaged his car?! But then he held out something to me, and I saw it was a car key.

“It’s just as well you’ve got me under the thumb, Mole, but you take one of my cars again and so help me, even the Hulk will seem like a feather in comparison.” I looked up at him, starting to stumble through an apology, and then saw he was grinning. “While you were off joyriding, I got you your own car. And lessons. With someone who didn’t learn to drive in the 40s.” He pushed the car key into my hand as I tried to refuse it, stammering that he’d already given me so much, but he waved away my thanks and started to leave, then turned back to me.

“You know old Metal Arm likes you Mole, don’t you?” What the hell was this?!

“Did you get that line from Steve or Nat?!” Tony looked at me, puzzled.

“You’re a good kid. He’s a… difficult man. Got a lot of issues. Hell, we all do I guess. He could be good for you, and you could be good for him, but if he hurts you, you tell me, and I will suit up for you and take him out.” Then, with a wave, he left.

The next morning, ‘learn to drive’ was crossed off the list, and ‘wanna fight me, Tin Man’ was added below Tony’s comment in Bucky’s writing.

I was keeping myself busy between these dates, if that’s what they really were. Training, spending time with different members of the team, trying to live a normal life, catching up on news and sport and TV and trying to learn what I’d missed. I was also still studying with Bruce and Tony. Ashamed of my lack of education, I’d been working long and hard to improve myself. I’d been a top student back when I was at school and the serum had had some kind of effect on my abilities too, so I was a quick learner with an almost eidetic memory now. As a result, it was only a little while later that I was ready to take my GED. Bucky and Steve had gone off for a mission, which allowed me to study without distraction for a while (although Bruce sighed pointedly as the fourth text message in an hour came through from Bucky while we were revising chemistry).

A week after my driving lesson, I went off to a local school to sit some exams. Tony, being Tony, had paid out and fixed things so I’d get my results almost immediately so it was only a few days later that I opened my letter to find I’d passed, with excellent grades. OK, so I’d missed out on High School and god knows as an Avenger nobody was going to be asking to see my qualifications, but it was important to me, a step to becoming ‘normal’ that I hadn’t realised mattered.

When Bucky and Steve got back that evening, the champagne was cracked open and everyone celebrated. I felt silly, but once I’d had enough champagne, joined in the fun. I looked around the room part way through the evening and felt a rush of gratitude at the things these people were doing for me. Then I caught Bucky’s eye where he was talking to Clint, and felt an even bigger rush of … something. The same something I’d felt when he’d picked me up in his arm as soon as he got off the quinjet. He’d smelt of sweat and gunpowder and nights in the woods and it was enough to make me groan, that he’d come straight to see me before heading to the medlab or debrief, or a shower.

There weren’t really many missions at the moment, so it was good to have them back, but it did mean that the team were throwing themselves into the craziest things to fill the time (despite Steve insisting we could use the time for training or research or bettering ourselves. Clint had thrown a cushion at him and got Cap straight in the face for that). So that was why two days later I found myself in a graduation gown and cap, feeling incredibly ridiculous, while the team sat on folding chairs on the roof garden, and Bucky shook my hand and presented me with a diploma. Everyone clapped and I bowed with an embarrassed grin before throwing my hat in the air then swearing as a gust of wind caught it and blew it off the roof. A little later Tony got quite tearful and hugged me repeatedly, saying he felt like a proud father, until Pepper rolled her eyes and took him away.

When Bruce and I were sorting dinner that night (Ok, we answered the door to a pizza delivery and were sorting beer and pizza to take up to the roof), he stopped me for a second and with a nervous rumble, spoke.

“You know Barnes likes you, don’t you?”

I sighed. Four times now.

“You’re a bright kid. I saw that, teaching you. Think about what you want to do next? You could go to college. Or come work with me in the lab. But Barnes likes you and that’s a good thing. It’s not easy for people like us always to… get that.” I could see a faraway look in his eyes, although he wasn’t looking at me. I’d heard that there was something between him and Nat but things hadn’t worked out.

He met my eyes briefly, mumbled something, and then grabbed up the beer and left. I liked Bruce a lot, we’d worked together on my studies and I had helped him out in the lab running some tests. This was probably the first personal conversation we’d had though, and it touched me. Whatever reason Bucky had for this adolescent do-over, it was bringing me closer to a lot of the team, and for that I’d always be grateful.

I looked over at the fridge note. ‘Graduate’ was crossed off. ‘Bring it on, Buckyboy’ was written in Tony’s writing underneath Bucky’s ‘wanna fight me’. And next on the list was ‘prom’. Oh boy.

Well, what happens next after graduation but prom?! By the time this was next on Bucky’s fridge list, everyone was getting into the swing of things. We hadn’t had a mission in a while and when you get a lot enhanced or powerful soldiers, assassins, gods and the like, and don’t give them much to do… well, energy was high and pranks were getting ridiculous (think water balloons off the top of the tower, custard in Thor's boots…). This was a good distraction.

One evening everyone was sitting around talking and the group were sharing prom stories. Bucky admitted he’d ‘gotten a little fresh’ with Dot, who he’d taken to his senior prom. Bucky’s turn of phrase made Tony snigger, until Steve pointed out that in the 1930s, good girls didn’t put out. Of course, that didn’t make the sniggering any less, especially when Bucky pointed out with a leer that Dot had been really, REALLY good. Natasha then went and sat on Steve’s lap, all pouty lips and cleavage.

“Do you really think good girls shouldn’t, Stevie?” She used her best breathy voice and gave a little wriggle as Steve went bright red and gulped, shaking his head.

“No, I mean, things were different then. Whatever people want is fine right?”

“Oh good,” Natasha climbed off Steve’s lap, having made him as uncomfortable as possible, “I’d hate to tell Sharon you thought she was bad.” At that Steve groaned and buried his head in a pillow while Nat looked proud at the impact she’d had.

Tony’s prom story rambled on, and seemed to involve a lot of alcohol, a fast car, and at least two prom dates. Bruce’s admitted he’d taken his friend’s sister, who had then gone off with the quarterback while Bruce was trying to work out how to make the sound system louder with a bit of rewiring. Wanda looked bemused by the whole conversation, admitting that they didn’t have proms in Sokovia but she was looking forward to this one if it was anything like these stories.

The conversation came around to Steve, who’d now lifted his head out of the cushions and regained his composure. Clint asked if there was some heroic and honourable story about Steve saving his date’s life or rescuing her from a burning building, which was when Steve admitted he’d never gone to his prom because he couldn’t get a date. Seventy-odd years, a whole load more biceps, and the addition of Sharon, and you could still see the rejection in his face. I felt about ready to cry and was determined that Steve would get a do-over, just as I was. I wasn’t alone in that feeling.

“That’s it, we’re going Full Prom!” Tony declared. And that’s why, two weeks later, the room usually reserved for fancy dinners and swanky Stark Industries parties was now being overly decorated. Tony and Nat had wanted modern glamour and so there were beautiful arches and silver stars and globe lights; Bucky and Steve were reminiscing about the proms of the '30s and wanted something a little more understated, with a nice meal and a dance; Clint and Wanda decided to start research by watching a slew of films and declared we needed synchronised dancing like Footloose and an Under the Sea theme like Back to the Future. My only requirement was balloons. Balloon arches, balloon sculptures, a man who could make balloon animals, and one of those nets of balloons that falls down. OK, so I was getting kind of into it now too. Most of Stark Industries seemed to be invited and there were constant deliveries of alcohol, decorations, red carpets and god only knows what.

In the time before the prom, I kept busy. I trained non-stop, working out my frustrations on Steve and Nat. Nat was a great trainer and I always left her sessions aching but pleased with my progress. She taught me to use my abilities properly, not just throwing myself into the fray, but quickly assessing where and when to strike – Hydra’s training had been all about power, but this was much more subtle.

I worked out with Bucky a few times too. We were evenly matched and with Nat’s training, I was an even more able fighter. However, although we started off well, we never managed more than about an hour before one of us would manage to knock the other to the ground, pin them down and then… we wouldn’t train any more. Something about Bucky all sweating and panting, pinned to a mat, was a distraction.

A week before the big day, Tony decided to take me shopping. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable out and about, always having the fear of recapture by Hydra at the back of my mind so Tony paid for the shop to be closed while we were there. We spent half a day with Tony bringing me dress after dress to try on, while the shop staff helped out, or sat around and ate pizza that Tony had ordered in. I didn’t particularly like shopping but Tony was throwing his all into this, as he always did and I was getting caught up in his enthusiasm. Eventually a dress was chosen, along with shoes and everything that needed to go underneath it (luckily Tony decided to hand me over to the staff for that bit, declaring that he did not need those thoughts in his head, or Pepper would know).

When we got back to the Tower later on, I put my new purchases away in my room and took a moment to think about how my life had changed. It was still hard to connect my life now with the suburban life I’d once had, and even harder to realise that in such a short space of time I’d gone from Hydra assassin, desperate to die, to… whatever this was. Part of the weirdest family ever known. Friend to gods and billionaires. Accepted. I still found it hard to believe but whenever I felt myself sinking low, I wrapped that word in my heart and it gave me a new strength.

Over dinner that night, Pepper joked that Tony had never taken her shopping for so long, and asked if she should be jealous – all said with a grin.

“Mole is like the daughter I was lucky enough never to actually have” Tony replied, adding “Be thankful you haven’t had to raise her!”

“Gee thanks, ‘Dad’, should I storm out of the room at that?” I added, revelling in this ridiculous family. They’d never replace my own, true family and my heart would always break to think of them, but I wasn’t alone any more. Tony smirked and pointed out that ‘teenage temper tantrum’ was on Bucky’s list but Bruce had written that with my powers, it might be a bit much.

“Hey, if you’re the Dad, should I be asking your permission to take your daughter to prom then?” I know that Steve loved it when Bucky joined in with these jokes. He’d admitted to me that although Bucky had been part of the team before I joined, it was only recently that he’d relaxed and felt as comfortable too. I was proud, and slightly astonished, to think that I might have had anything to do with that.

“Well now young man,” Tony decided to play along, despite being around 50 years younger than Bucky, “what are your intentions towards my not-quite-daughter?” Bucky winked at me as he came over to where I was sitting.

“Entirely dishonourable, sir. Downright filthy.” The team broke down in gales of laughter as Bucky leant over and kissed me hard on the lips, and I blushed scarlet.

-- Two nights before prom, I was woken by a knocking sound. I was halfway to open the door when I realised the noise was coming from the window. I pulled the curtains back to find Bucky, hanging on to the side of the building.

“Jesus! Buck, this is the 36th floor!” I yelled as I scrambled to open the window. Not even a supersoldier could fall that far and survive, I was pretty sure. Once the window was open though, Bucky swung in slowly and I realised he was attached to a rope. He freed the clip around his chest and threw the end of the rope back out of the window, and suddenly Sam flew past, saluting and grinning as he went. He’d been holding the rope on Bucky while Bucky decided, in his own peculiar way, to climb the 36 floors to my bedroom window. Just because it was on the damn list.

So it was almost midnight and I was alone with Bucky in my room in the dark. You can imagine what happened next, right?

No.

He still didn’t stay. Oh, he didn’t leave straight away. It was almost midnight, and I was in my pyjamas, and he did have a lot of adrenaline pumping through him. He tried not to let his hands wander, but they did. I can tell you, there’s no better way to wake up than with one warm flesh hand, and one cool metal hand, sliding under your top.

The next day, I took Bucky out in the car Tony had bought me. I’d been secretly practicing with Sam every day – as the calmest of the team, he seemed the best choice for an instructor - and I was getting pretty good now. My enhanced reflexes and physical skills meant I was picking things up pretty well, and able to respond to other cars quickly. It was good driving with Sam as well because it was a chance to talk, but without the awkwardness of face-to-face. Sometime it was easier to open up when you couldn’t see the person you spoke to. I’d got very close to Sam, loving his childish side but also the fact that he matched that with an equal level of deep thoughtfulness, which I relied on heavily. I don’t think I’d have healed nearly as much as I had – or accepted the bits of me that would never heal, but learnt to live with them – without his incisiveness, his ability to show me another view point.

That said, when we went out for a practice that morning, and he opened with ‘Barnes likes you, you know that, right?’ I sighed.

“You’re the fifth person to say exactly that to me Sam, what’s going on?” He smiled, obviously amused by my resigned tone.

“People care. About both of you. We can see how good you both are for each. You’ve made Bucky more human. He smiles more with you than Steve’s seen since the '30s, he’s not so tortured any more. And the same goes for you, you’re more willing to accept who you are when he’s around. It’s adorable to watch, and when people you care about get happy, after a hell of a time, it feels good.” I had my eyes on the road but I could sense him smiling.

“Thing is, you’re both dumb. I bet you wouldn’t tell each other how you feel, so that’s up to us to do.”

“Wait, both of us?” That threw me, was Bucky getting the same chats as I was?

“Oh yeah. I mean, we all want to make sure you know how he feels, and same goes the other way. I’ve spent long hours trying to convince Bucky that you like him too. Neither of you feel deserving but you both gotta believe it.”

“So you told Bucky I like him?” I could feel myself getting flustered, even though I was pretty sure my feelings were obvious. I turned to look at Sam, wondering what reaction Bucky had given him.

“Woooah, eyes on the road!” I jerked my head back round as Sam continued. “Yeah, I did. And Steve did, repeatedly. Told him to behave around you, very honourable, very Cap. Oh and Nat punched Bucky in the head and told him if he hurt you, she’d go Red Room on his ass.” That made me smile. “To be honest, I’m sure Steve would say the same to you if he could bring himself to behave like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt Bucky, Sam, not ever.”

We continued driving after that, and I could feel a sense of warmth inside me, that people were looking out for me and rooting for me and Bucky. Sam asked how I was doing, generally, and I admitted that I was doing ok. I was even happy sometimes. I was having fun, living a normal life (or as normal as you can be living with the Avengers in a skyscraper).

So when I took Bucky out for a drive that afternoon, I was determined to show him that I was doing well too. I was pretty tense without Sam beside me, but I’d practiced the route I wanted to go and although I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my enhanced strength left finger marks, we made it there.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked as I parked in a clearing by a river. I could see he was making a quick threat assessment but I’d already scouted this place out and figured it was OK.

“Um, no idea really. But it’s secluded, so I decided to help you cross something off the list.” I felt a little awkward in case he rejected me, but his eyes widened as I climbed into the back seat of the car and gave him an encouraging nod. His jaw dropped when I slowly started to pull my t-shirt over my head, and by the time it was off, he’d scrambled into the back seat too, practically breaking the seat in his haste.

Bucky sat down and pulled me onto his lap, straddling his legs. My heart was racing just from being near him, and when he reached up and traced my lips with his soft warm fingers, I let out an involuntary whimper. Moments later, he did the same as he watched me suck one of his fingers into my mouth, and when I rocked my hips on his lap, his mouth fell open and his eyes closed, his metal arm pulling me closer. He pulled his finger out of my mouth and kissed me harder as I ground my hips into him, both of us moaning with the sensations.

By the time we drove back to the Tower, it was fully dark and we were both tousled and frustrated, Bucky insisting on trying to keep things PG-13 (but we’d definitely slipped into R rated at times.)

The day of the prom, there was an increasing stream of deliveries and I helped Pepper out, giving her a break from signing for flowers, food, glasses, a band, and all the other things that Tony had ordered as soon as it had crossed his mind. Finally, the deliveries seemed to stop, and we both set off to get ready.

I showered, put on the dress Tony had helped me choose, put on some makeup Wanda had explained to me, and took a deep breath to steady myself. I was about to go out of the door when there was a knock.

“You weren’t going without me were you, doll?” I couldn’t catch my breath at the sight of Bucky in a suit in front of me. His hair was looking curly and I could smell his cologne, and all I wanted to do was to pull him into the room and lock the door. He had a box in his metal hand and winked at me as he opened it and pulled out a corsage, then tied it around my wrist. Holding me at arm’s length, he whistled quietly to himself.

“Jeez. You’re beautiful Ruby. Beautiful.” He spun me around and then stopped when he saw that my dress was backless. I felt his hand slide slowly down my spine, stopping where my dress began, and resting on the curve of my back. Bucky’s voice cracked as he spoke, almost whispering to himself. “You’re so damn hot. Good enough to eat, I’ve got a mind to just stay in here with you and ignore the party tonight.”

I turned myself back around to face him and stood closer, our bodies touching. His hand on the small of my back pulled me against him and made it hard to think. I pressed a small kiss on his lips, then kept my mouth against his as I spoke.

“You know you’re a goofball right?” He grinned against my mouth, while his hand slipped lower and squeezed.

“Yeah, but it’s a fantastic feeling. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

We stopped speaking and kissed, and I felt my knees go weak at the taste of him. I knew things were going to be different after this evening and so we were able to make the kiss gentler, none of the frantic clashing of lips that we’d been making do with for the last few weeks. This was slow, firm, and intoxicating. When we broke off, Bucky rested his forehead against mine as we both fought to regain control of our breath.

“We should get out there doll, just… give me a minute.” I slid my hand down the outside of his trousers, teasingly, as he groaned. “That’s not going to help!”

Stepping back, I gave Bucky space while I put my shoes on, then hand-in-hand, we headed for the elevator.

The whole floor of function rooms had been transformed, Tony having gone a little overboard. We had dinner in one room, fantastic food, at a table full of my friends. It was a little odd that everyone at the table kept making jokes about how ‘Bucky was going to get lucky’ that night, surely it wasn’t normal for all your friends to know about your sex life? By the time the meal was over, a combination of wine, nerves, excitement, and the feel of Bucky’s hand hot and heavy on my thigh, had meant I’d long since stopped caring. That and knowing that these people just wanted me to be happy.

After the meal, we had our photos taken, hamming it up for the photographer with cheesy poses that would either make us look back and laugh, or wince, when the pictures came through. The rooms were full with Stark employees, ex-SHIELD agents and staff, families and friends, all making their way through rooms filled with an odd mix of silver stars, balloons and crepe paper jellyfish. It was perfect.

Our group came together and broke apart throughout the evening, but Bucky was my constant. Our hands barely stopped touching all night, and when they did it was just so we could wrap our arms around each other instead. Dancing with Bucky was just as seductive as it had been the first time, an excuse to stand close together, to move in time, to ignore the rest of the world and focus on the physical sensations. Kissing Bucky while we danced, I was glad of the music to drown out the pants and gasps I wasn’t able to hold back. The anticipation of the rest of the night was almost unbearable.

Part way through the evening, the music came to a halt and Tony appeared on the stage, microphone in hand.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you ALL for coming to this most bizarre Prom! A more wonderful collection of misfits could not be found. And as the organiser – and funder – of this extravaganza, it’s my duty and pleasure to announce the Prom King and Queen!”

He flourished an envelope as Bucky whispered ‘you didn’t vote right? This is a Tony fix!’ in my ear. Tony pulled out a piece of paper and made a pretend gasp of amazement.

“Who would have guessed, how could it be?! Please make your way to the stage to be crowned… Captain America and Molegirl!”

The crowd was all laughing as Steve and I stepped up onto the stage, embarrassed but amused. Tony insisted on his rights as compere to kiss the Queen, then made Steve blush further by insisting on kissing him too. I’m sure I saw tongues and Steve looked completely befuddled when Tony let him up for air.

With crowns and sashes, Steve and I made our way to the dance floor for our first dance. I could see Bucky over Steve’s shoulder, tears of delight in his eyes as we shuffled together.

“Let’s do this properly Ruby,” Steve smiled at me. I could see that behind the embarrassment, he was secretly thrilled by everything, the big kid in him never really lost. Our crowns sliding about, Steve wrapped his arms around me and dipped and spun me, playing up to the moment. As everyone else started dancing again, he calmed down, hugging me to him.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for Buck.” He gave me a squeeze as he spoke. “I know he thinks I want the old Bucky back, the pre-Hydra, pre-Winter Soldier, pre-war one. I know he’s gone, but it’s still so good to see this Buck so happy. And it’s down to you.” He kissed the top of my head, then dipped me again. “And it’s just as good to see you happy too.”

He pulled me up and spun me again, straight into Bucky’s waiting arms, then with a regal bow, wandered off, no doubt to look for Sharon.

All this craziness, from cinema dates to prom, had taken three months. It’s amazing what a team of super-intelligent super-powered people can do when they’re bored. But in that three months, Bucky and I hadn’t done more than some major make out sessions. By now I was pretty much ready to hump a table and I was fairly sure that Bucky felt the same, but working through his list had been important to him and to be honest, I had loved just doing some fun, crazy, relaxing, stupid stuff. There’d been some real team bonding; we were a family now and that family mattered.

Nothing stopped the nightmares that still came at times, and I still needed to talk to Sam because there were days when my anxiety blew up; when I didn’t believe that I was needed or wanted, or that I deserved all this; and there were days when the guilt I felt about being happy, when I’d killed so many people, filled my head. But on those days, there was Sam to talk me down; Natasha who understood what that was like; Bruce who’d just tuck me under one arm and talk science to me until I was distracted. Tony would nod sympathetically and then depending on his mood, take me out to do barrel rolls in the quinjet or else hide under a blanket with me and watch reruns of old black and white movies. Wanda would let me look in her head, where you can’t lie, to see how much she cared. And through all that, Bucky would be there, for whatever I needed, whenever.

He’d ask Jarvis to let him know if I had a nightmare, and he’d appear in my room and hold me. When I was panicky, he’d ground me by sitting and singing to me, in a darkened room. When I stopped believing I was loved, he’d hold me and kiss me, and describe in detail how he loved my fingers, for being willing to touch his scars; how he loved my lips, for kissing him and making him feel whole; how he loved my eyes, because they never looked at him with horror, just as he never looked at me that way. He’d tell me how much the team needed me, how I provided the balance to Tony, the friend Natasha needed, the willing ear to Bruce when no one else understood, the prank partner to Sam and Clint. When I felt overcome with guilt, I knew he understood and we’d reassure each other silently. I hoped, and believed, that I did the same for Bucky. He was further along in his ‘recovery’ than me, but the memories of what he’d done as the Winter Soldier, and what had been done to him, were always there, and I supported him through those as much as he supported me.

Those three months had brought us closer together emotionally, but physically Bucky had been adamant that we wait. We’d kissed so much those months that I was a wonder our lips didn’t bleed. And now tonight, we both knew that there’d be a lot more than that. We were in each other’s arms, dancing – or at least, swaying together, while trying to keep as much of our bodies in contact as possible.

“You know I like you, right?” Bucky’s mouth was near my ear and I could feel his breath, warm, as he spoke.

“It’s been mentioned. And I picked up on some subtle clues.” I lifted my chin to look at him, even in heels I was still shorter than he was. “And you know I like you too, right?”

“Kinda guessed. D’you want to get out of here?”

I didn’t bother replying. I just pulled his hand and walked to the elevator. I could hear Bucky chuckling behind me.

Don’t get me wrong, I was nervous. I’d never done this before. But I knew how Bucky made me feel and if I didn’t get more of him soon, I’d burst, or melt, or something. And, most importantly, I trusted him. To take it slow if I was anxious, to make me feel good, to take the lead but to show me how. Damn, that elevator couldn’t come soon enough.

When we got to Bucky’s room, the nerves did kick in harder. All the old anxieties about not being deserving of someone I cared about, not being worthy of happiness, plus a whole host more anxieties about not knowing what I was doing, about my scars, about how much I wanted to make Bucky feel good. The anxiety must have shown on my face. Bucky pulled me into him, and tangled his hand in my hair, pulling my head back slightly. He pressed a chaste kiss on my lips, then spoke quietly.

“Forget the list. Forget everything. It’s just us two here and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He kissed my forehead and I leant myself against him fully. I could feel the shape of his muscles, shifting inside his suit as he moved, his thighs adjusting to support my weight, his arm around my waist. Eyes shut, I let myself relax, then slowly showed him I was ready through the way I moved against him.

“I want you. James.” He let out a small growl at the sound of his name. I stepped away from him, biting my lip as he tugged once at my hair before letting go, then reached up to undo the button at my neck, the only fastening holding my dress on.

As the fabric of my dress slithered down my body, pooling on the floor at my feet, Bucky’s head fell back, his eyes still on mine, as he moaned hard and loud. I was trying hard not to hide myself; I knew that Bucky had seen me naked before, and I’d fought and trained nude with Hydra. But this was so different and I felt more exposed than before.

I stepped forward, out of the dress, and started to take off Bucky’s suit. The tie had come off at some point during the evening so with the jacket off, I could slowly start to undo his shirt. His breath was coming deep and hot as I slowly undid each button, running my fingernail down each new piece of exposed skin. When the last button was undone, I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and Bucky quickly pulled the sleeves over his wrists. I ran my fingernails back up and down his chest, noting how he bit his lips and closed his eyes. I leant forward and licked across one of his nipples, then gently teased it with my teeth as he moaned and pulled me in tighter. I felt his hand slip down from my back to grasp my buttocks, pulling me close and then, with his supersoldier strength, lifting me up. My legs wrapped around his waist and I could feel him, hard, against me through his trousers. His skin was hot against mine and the sensation was overwhelming.

Bucky carried me over to his bed and gently lay me down, then watching me for signs of anxiety, removed my underwear, leaving me naked and exposed. He stood back up and for a moment just looked at me. I felt my lip start to tremble with nerves under his gaze, until I looked at his face and realised what I was seeing. He was lost in the sight of me, his eyes dark, his tongue running over his lips. I whispered ‘hey, James?’ and his eyes snapped up to mine, a sheepish grin on his lips.

“You don’t know just how beautiful you are, sweetheart.”

I sat up and pulled myself forward to the end of the bed, near to him, and then keeping our eyes in contact, I reached forward and unbuttoned his trousers, slowly, then slid his trousers and boxers down, letting my hands run over the smooth skin on his thighs. Bucky shuddered and let his eyes fall close for a second, blinking them open in shock almost immediately at the feel of my lips on his stomach. He watched as I kissed my way down his stomach, then up his thighs, taunting him, and then with a groan kicked off his shoes and socks, shaking his trousers off and nearly falling over, until we were both naked, giggling, and wrapped in each other’s arms on the bed.

Bucky pulled himself over on top of me, pinning my arms down above my head and then running his fingers lightly down my side, smiling as I squirmed beneath him.

“Sweetheart. Baby. Darlin’” Each word was punctuated with a kiss, leaving me breathlessly following his mouth with mine. “I’m yours till the end of the line. So there’s no need to rush things. Whatever happens tonight, or doesn’t, it’s OK.” He kissed me again and I nodded.

“I meant what I said. I want you James”

At that, all restraint was gone. Bucky’s mouth was everywhere on me, kissing my lips, biting my neck, sucking its way down to my breasts, leaving me unable to think about anything except the way it felt. He slowed down as he moved further down my body and my hands gripped his hair with a sense of desperation as I tried to retain some control of myself. I could feel his metal fingers still circling and pinching my nipples as his warm mouth moved lower, biting my skin, sucking against my scars then blowing cool air across the warm dampness. The sensations were overwhelming and my hatred for my scars was transformed as Bucky lavished them with attention.

My small gasps turned to louder moans as Bucky pushed my legs apart and grazed his teeth up the inside of my thighs. My skin was on fire and I could feel my hips bucking as I wanted his lips on me. Months of pent-up emotions, of teasing kisses and cold showers, had left me desperate and I wanted it all, at once, but Bucky was taking things slowly, drawing out the pleasure and the pain.

He pushed my legs further apart, and as I felt his tongue on me, I called out his name, my head falling back. He moved back to kissing and biting my thigh, so near and yet so tantalisingly far from what I wanted, and I let out a desperate whimpering plea. The whimper turned into a gasp as he moved back to licking me, and I felt his fingers push inside me. He kept up the pace, licking and pushing, and I lost all track of time, my brain a fog of wine and pleasure. I could hear myself calling ‘oh James, oh fuck, oh god, Bucky’, over and over, faster and faster, my speed matching his. My hips were writhing on the bed and I was clutching handfuls of the sheet, now unable to form words and just letting out gasps of pleasure. I could feel a deep throbbing inside me, growing and growing as I rocked my hips up and down, then suddenly I was shaking, my legs spasming as I threw my head back and came.

The room was a blur as I opened my eyes, overloaded with pleasure. I whimpered as Bucky withdrew his fingers and then again, with pleasure, as I felt him kiss his way back up my body until he was lying on top of me, his full weight pinning me down. My body was still shivering with lust and I could feel Bucky’s hand shaking with desire as he ran his fingers up my throat. He’d been waiting just as long as I had for this and as I came down, I ran my fingers down his spine, and felt his muscles twitch with need. A low throaty growl worked its way out of his mouth as my hands reached his backside and pulled him against me tighter. My brain was working again and I was torn between desperately wanting all of Bucky and first-time nerves.

I could feel Bucky holding back, aware of what I was feeling, but I didn’t want him to pull away completely. I ran my hands back up to his head, tangled my fingers in his hair, and murmured ‘don’t stop’. He turned his head to kiss me and we clashed noses and teeth awkwardly, giggling helplessly, the fumbling and lack of success bringing us back together emotionally. I was more relaxed again and I wanted Bucky so much.

Bucky took hold of my head and turned my chin towards him, keeping our eyes in contact. Our bodies were rolling against each other and we were both breathing deep and ragged. I could tell Bucky was finding it hard to find words now.

“It’s OK to stop.” I knew if I said I needed to stop, Bucky wouldn’t hesitate and there’d be no recriminations. But that knowledge was more than enough to make me want him more. I bit down on his collar bone, making him yell, then licked my tongue across the mark.

“I still want you James. Please.”

He stretched out, reaching for something beside the bed and the movement brought his body further across mine. The extra weight, the feeling of being trapped, made me moan with pleasure, and I saw Bucky look back down towards me, smiling knowingly.

A rustle and some fumbling and I knew he’d put a condom on. My heart was racing with nerves and desire as Bucky moved both my arms above my head and held them down with his metal hand. He let his flesh hand slide down from my hands, all the way down my side, while I whimpered and wriggled beneath him, then he slid his hand back up to my throat and held it firmly. I was gasping with need now, and I could feel Bucky twitching against me. Our eyes locked on each other, I felt Bucky pushing inside me, agonisingly slowly. I could feel myself frown with the mixture of pain and delight, my eyes closing against my will then snapping open as I winced and gasped. He stopped instantly.

“You ok baby?”

I could feel him starting to withdraw, and wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels into him to hold him still.

“I’m OK, just need a second.” He held himself unmoving, watching me and waiting, as my breath relaxed and then I slowly started rolling my hips against him, opening myself up on him at my own pace, his mouth falling open and eyes glazing as he watched me from above. After a moment I nodded, and he started moving inside me, matching his gentle thrusts to mine. My breath was harder to catch as my nerves fired all over my body, my skin tingling matching the sharp pain inside, the pain never overwhelming the pleasure that was running through me.

I was moving faster now, and Bucky was matching my movements still. His head had dropped to his chest and he’d let my arms go, resting on his forearms beside my shoulders. I held onto his arms, using his body as a rock to push myself against, harder and faster now. Bucky’s eyes were closed and his forehead was glistening with sweat. He was making soft moans now, whimpering my name as he thrust. I lifted my head, needing to kiss him and his tongue was hot in my mouth but we were both too unco-ordinated to kiss for long now. Bucky’s breathing was getting ragged and his eyes were unfocussed but he tried to pull himself back as he saw me wincing again.

“What’s… you ok…?”

“Oh god… yes. Please”

With that word, he pushed against me harder and faster. My eyes screwed up tight as I saw stars and was overcome with the sheer physical exhilaration. I felt Bucky thrust inside me once, twice more, then with a harsh groan, he came, my legs wrapped around him still. We were both panting, sweat sticking our chests together, my hands gripping his arms. He collapsed onto me, planting sloppy exhausted kisses against my neck as I hummed with pleasure. He lifted his head to kiss me, smiling with ridiculous pleasure as he missed my mouth and caught my cheek, then rolling off me and out of me, falling onto his back beside me on the bed and pulling in deep breaths.

As his breath became steadier, he rolled onto his side, grabbing my hand and pulling it up to kiss each knuckle.

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

I pulled our joined hands over to my mouth and tenderly bit his fingers, smirking against each one.

“I’m good. So good. Bit sore but good sore. So good.” I flopped back onto my back and he pulled himself nearer. “My muscles won’t move. I think I’m dead. I’m Ok with that”. I lifted one arm and let it flop to the mattress bonelessly. “See, dead.”

“You make a beautiful corpse,” Bucky grinned against my skin, then sighed. “One minute.”

He got up and headed for the bathroom, where I heard water running. He came back a moment later, condom gone and glass of water in hand. He took a mouthful and then held it for me to drink before falling back down next to me on his back. I rolled against him, and rested my head on his arm, tracing patterns on his chest with my fingers. I let myself relax into his arms, feeling beautifully drowsy and cared for. My eyes half-closed, I heard his voice.

“You know I said I liked you?” I looked up and met his eyes. “I love you, Ruby.”

I looked up and met his eyes. There would be days I wouldn’t believe him but he’d always be there to convince me.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

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matildainmotion · 5 years

Text

Mean Truths and Generous Lies: A Response to Sibling (and every other kind of) Rivalry

My children fight. They have their moments - small photo opportunities of love and harmony- a hug, a lego collaboration jointly presented – but on the whole, they fight.

I buy two flake chocolate bars as a treat.

“I’ll have that one,” my son says.

“No, I want that one,” my daughter jumps in, panicked.

My son examines them both closely. “Oh, actually you can have that one. I’m having this one,” he says, giving her the one he has been holding and taking hers.

“No, that one was mine!” my daughter wails.

I point out that they are identical, but it seems there is some microscopic difference that I cannot see.

“Oh all right, I’ll have this one,” my son says. They swap back, and, for now, peace and chocolate follow.

This has happened often enough that my daughter talks about matching things – socks, lego bricks, biscuits – as being “identital,” the four syllables said with the clumsy care of her age.

When I am brave I go to the supermarket with both children. Often the children see the shop aisles as corridors of space for racing down, or the floors as smooth surfaces to lie on, to loll beside me as I try and shop. I do not like supermarkets. Last time we went my son spotted a trolley with not one, but two, identical baby seats attached to it.

“Hey, we could both go in there!” he says, running up to it. I consider. They are both big. It will look absurd, but it is better than the aisle-racing and the floor-lolling.

“Okay,” I say, and lift my hulking eight year old and smaller-but-definitely-not-a-baby-three-year old up beside him.

My son is delighted (self-propulsion has never been his thing – he likes to be carried, wheeled, pushed, pulled along). As he giants in the baby seat he starts to play a gleeful game of lifting items that we need over his head so that they drop down into the trolley behind him. I permit this with the smaller items. My daughter wants to join in.

“Okay, let’s take it in turns.”

But then certain items are more desirable than others.

“I wanted to drop the Yoyo bars in!” my daughter complains.

“But it was my turn,” my son counters.

“Look, we get through these fast. I’ll get two packets,” I say reaching for another.

“NO, I wanted to drop the first packet!” my daughter cries. I pick the packet in the trolley back up and give it to her. “Here, then.”

“No, I wanted to drop the first packet, FIRST!” she explains, in misery.

“But it was MY turn,” my son explains in his angry voice.

My daughter is crying hard now. “How about you choose something now you really want to put in first?” My daughter is crying too hard to speak but shakes her head.

“That’s not fair!” my son protests, riled by her crying – he could be about to get violent.

I look at them both – crying and fuming. I start to fume too and I want to cry. We are standing in a supermarket, a palace of plenty, filled with food, tinned, wrapped in plastic, priced, shelved- and they are arguing over who gets to put what packets, over their heads, into the trolley, as they sit, oversized, in baby seats.

Their privilege is not their fault. The gross global inequalities in the distribution of wealth are not their fault, but then again that is exactly what is at stake here: the distribution of wealth, of goods, of every kind – tangible and emotional. The decision about who gets what, how much, and when. So whilst their rows seems ridiculous, and their apparent pettiness exasperates me, I realise, once I am home from the supermarket, that the questions driving them are serious and fundamental. I recognise them. I am, in truth, no better.

I hear about another woman with young children who is writing a novel and who lives nearby. I read a brilliant book and check on the sleeve to work out the age of the author – she is younger than me and has already written three successful books. In both instances I feel threatened – I hide it, but it is there. This may seem different to my children’s angst over who has the privilege of putting the Yoyos into the shopping trolley. It is not. Yes, there are other issues in the mix to do with insecurities about my ability, my age, what I have and have not achieved to date, but in essence the level of ridiculousness in my sense of rivalry with the others around me is the same. The idea that someone else’s success is not good news for me, whether that someone is as close as a sibling, or as distant as a stranger.

I have done everything I can to help my children know they are both loved, that I do not favour one or the other, but still they fight. Competition. It is in the air we breathe. It is the foundation of our economy. It is in our science. The Darwinian ‘survival of the fittest’ narrative tells us that competition is inside us, in our bodies - it is part of the story of how we were formed.

I am not trying to deny the theory of evolution, but as a mother, in a supermarket, with two squabbling children, our inherent competitiveness is not a helpful story. I cannot leave them to it and see who wins, who survives. My son because he can hit harder? Or my daughter because she can scream louder and is, at this point, cuter? Who is fitter? More fitting? These are not the questions I want to be asking or sharing with them. It is also not a helpful story to me as a maker, a writer. It does not make me generous and good writing, for me, requires generosity. I have got to be able to give it away. It is also not a helpful story for the world right now. We have followed a capitalist, ‘survival of the fittest’ narrative to its ruthless end and it is proving to be, potentially, the end of all of us, fit or otherwise. But let me bring this back from the apocalypse (also not a helpful story) to the level where I can do something constructive in response: a sibling row over Yoyos in the supermarket and my worry over rival writers. What would be a better narrative?

I go to the bookshelf, to the parenting books, to one in particular: Siblings without Rivalry by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. I first read it almost before it applied, when I was still a zealous new mother of two and my daughter was too small to be an articulate rival. One of the chapters is headed “Equal is less:” I read:

“To be loved equally….is somehow to be loved less. To be loved uniquely—for one’s own special self—is to be loved as much as we need to be loved.”

Yes, that makes sense. Equal is still in the paradigm of quantity. Equal implies that you could have more than me, even if right now we have the same. It explains my children bickering over identical chocolate bars – they both have exactly the same, and that, in the end, is not enough, not what they want. They want their differences, not their same-ness. Similarly with taking turns – one for you and one for me, fair’s fair. But it isn’t fair, or it might not be – as long as we remain in the world of quantities, of equal signs, then there is always an implied risk that one of them could lose out - minus, subtraction, less, loss. One of them might not be equal to the other, not as fit. One might not survive.

I get it. I get the theory. At least within the small society of our family, neither capitalism (letting everyone compete and seeing who comes out on top with the most), nor communism (getting everyone to share so they all have the same) results in harmony. I need to focus on diversity, on the uniqueness of each child. I need to cultivate an economy of gifting, (see another book – Lewis Hyde’s The Gift), of the gifts in each person being honoured. The ‘givens’ in us, the things we did nothing to earn, that are there for us in turn to give away, but like the magic porridge pot, the more we give, the more we feel filled, fulfilled. Like breastfeeding, when it works: the more the child nurses, the more there is. I was lucky enough to be able to breastfeed both children till they were old enough to explain this to me.

However, despite their experience of extended breastfeeding, my children remain committed to a story of scarcity and competition. I try to talk them out of it, but I know I am unconvincing and unconvinced.

“Yeah, yeah” my son says, “I know – It’s not about winning. It’s about the playing. Yeah yeah I’m unique - Blah blah. You’ve told us that a thousand times. But I wanna win!!”

Whatever I am currently telling myself and my children is not enough. Not enough. How to get away from not-enough-ness into a more abundant place?

I think I have to tell the gifting story better. If I don’t quite believe the story – because the other story, the one of lack and loss is everywhere - then I have to practice lying, really well. To do this I go to a different part of the bookshelf – not the parenting one. Actually it’s my husband bookshelf, to a book he told me he used to carry around everywhere with him: “The Shaman’s Body” by Arnold Mindell. There is a passage in this book I want to read again. It describes an exercise I did before I became a mother, but that I think I should revisit now. Here it is:

“Experiment with telling a lie. Tell a lie to yourself in your imagination. Try lying even if you are shy or embarrassed about doing so. Tell the lie as if you were a great story-teller. This may be difficult because myth-making is a deep process, but try until a real lie turns into a story with a beginning and an end….consider your lie to be true…Act like the person in your lie….How are you already living this myth? How have your dreams already discussed this change.”

It occurs to me as I reread this that children are very good at this kind of lying. It’s the answer, for example, to the famous question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’ Last time they were asked my son was going to be an inventor and my daughter was going to be a cat.

The quality of the grand myth is even present in how my children talk about their favourite colours. In this context they are proud and happy of their differences. My son loves blue, light blue. It is his colour. My daughter likes red, bright red – that is hers. They are mythic enough about these to behave as if everything in the world that is blue and red respectively belongs to them. My son owns the sky. My daughter owns the sunset. These are generous stories. They do not squabble over blue or red. Suddenly ‘their differences’ become a key to peace, not a synonym for conflict. The squabbles start when the stories the world offers them are small and mean, when the lies aren’t magnificent, when we are in super-markets, buildings built not for myths but measurables.

What magnificent lies can I tell that might help us? What myths? Well, one myth I realise I am already working on is called Mothers Who Make. You may know of this, but let me tell a version of it to you now.

It begins when I became a mother. I had a baby boy. I did what I thought you were supposed to do - I attended several mother and baby groups. They were meant to be supportive. All too often they were not. They were informal, social gatherings and within them I witnessed a fair amount of ‘maternal rivalry,’ sometimes subtle, sometimes more overt: whose baby was sleeping well? How was the breastfeeding going? Or was it not going? And the weaning? I would come away feeling more, rather than less, isolated. As an artist I experienced similar things too – networking events, workshops, in which the rivalry simmered under the surface of each exchange: Have you got funding? What work do you have lined up? So I started a group, welcoming to mothers of every ilk, and makers of every kind too. I called it Mothers Who Make. It was explicitly a peer support group – we gathered in order to support one another. That was the point, the purpose.

The group went well. It grew into more groups, meetings began happening monthly in theatres, art galleries and arts-related venues across the UK. Then slowly groups emerged in other countries too. Online communities formed. It was becoming a worldwide movement.

At first it consisted of simply peer support groups and Facebook pages, but then other events began to spring up as well, under the Mothers Who Make banner: exhibitions, performances, workshops, skill shares, talks, commissions, retreats, festivals. To sustain all of this activity we needed to invent a new kind of support, one that would reflect the ethic of the movement. I called it ‘Matronage.’ Not the Patron, looking down from on high and patronising us with his wealth, deciding who is fit to support and who is not, but mothers and others, giving sideways, on a level with one another, £3 per month to sustain themselves and each other in their mothering and their making. I called these people ‘Matron Saints.’ I signed myself up as one of them.

First there were only fifty of us. Then there were one hundred, then two hundred, three, five. A year on and there were one thousand MWM Matrons. Word kept spreading - it kept growing. Eventually there were over a million of us across the world. Together we were creating an abundant culture, a gift economy, women*-led. Slowly we were changing the atmosphere, between artists, between mothers, between children. I knew we had had an impact when one day I looked up the word ‘Matron’ in the updated edition of the OED. It said there were three definitions for the word: 1) a woman in charge of domestic and medical arrangements at a boarding school or other institution. 2) an older married woman, especially one who is staid or dignified. 3) Someone actively engaged in mothering, be that a child or a project, and in supporting others engaged in related maternal and/or creative endeavours.

There, that’s my great myth. Remember the end of the exercise? : “Consider your lie to be true…Act like the person in your lie….How are you already living this myth?” I think, if I can remember this myth next time my children fight, it might help. I am not sure right now what I would do, but I might be better at continuing to believe in their differences as gifts rather than as a sign of my maternal failure. I will be better able to trust that my children each have their own place in this stunning, stunningly complex, difficult and generous life.

So, here are my questions for you for the month: Where do you see rivalry? In your children? In yourself? And, underneath the fighting, what are the differences present, as in the givens, the unique gifts that are longing to be given away? What generous lies can you tell about these? What myths? And if you want to help me to live closer to my lie, to support me and all the other mothers and makers out there, you can go here to become a MWM Matron Saint: https://motherswhomake.org/support-us

There are 67 of us right now, but one day there will be a million….

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kinkyacademia · 7 years

Note

Loved the last scenario you answered for me

Alrighty, here we go; I’m out of Villain Requests until the box opens back up, so I undertook this lovely cute one ^-^ I felt too light and fluffy, so I added just a hint of NSFW at the end. Lovely reads, my Meatballs.

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

🛏“Oh, Aizawa, you’re too stoic for your age,” Kirishima heard little bells of laughter, perking up when he heard his teacher’s name. He glanced at Mina and Kaminari.

🛏“Guys?” They were already standing up, eyes sparkling with mischief. He hesitantly followed, and they found their Sensei sitting at one of the tables in the library, backwards on the chair and straddling the back. His arms folded over the top of the chair and his chin rested in a relaxed position on them. He was staring at a beautiful young lady, no, he was staring at the librarian.

🛏“You’re only a year younger than me, (L/N),” he grumbled, and you giggled at him. He smiled ever so slightly back.

🛏The group of students silently retreated, eyes wide with shock. Soon, the whole of Class 1-A knew about Aizawa’s little flirtatious escapade.

🛏But, they couldn’t be for sure about it until you came in for a one-week lesson on their midterm project. Most of them already knew you, but now they got to see how Aizawa acted around you.

🛏It was almost an instant shift. Instead of sleeping in his sleeping bag, he was sitting on it and watching the class very closely, almost like a hawk. They also recognized that he had washed his face much better, and had he even trimmed his beard to look even?

🛏On the second day, you teased him lightheartedly about his helicopter teachering. His response was wildly different than anyone expected, “Oh, just making sure my rowdy kids don’t accidentally hurt you.” The blush that that caused you was even more exciting to the students.

🛌The rest of the week, they collected little facts about you. You mentioned your favourite food: Pasta. Oh, talented and amazing Pasta, how you absolutely love it. Also your favourite drink, hell, these students are the top in their grade; they got everything that they’ll need.

🛌Once they’re sure of their motives, they wait until Aizawa goes to the bathroom during English class. Then, all of Class 1-A goes absolutely silent, and Sensei Hizashi was quite dumbfounded:

“What happened?” He asked, and Mina was the first to speak. Midoriya looked like he wanted to, but he seemed too shy.

“Sir, you’re Aizawa’s friend, right?”

“Of course, young Mina. Have been, always will be his best!” He exclaimed, a grin covering his face. He would be lying if he said he knew what was going on, though.

“Well, we…” Kaminari started, but Kirishima broke in.

“We had an idea, Sensei,” he nodded to the general class, “All of us did.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” He prodded, placing his hands on his hips.

🛏Once Class 1-A debriefed him, he was absolutely in for it. He made sure to keep a few things out of the mixture, but he told the class more of what they would need to know, and once Aizawa returned, everyone was already working on their assignment once again.

🛏Hizashi was just about as giddy as the students. He set up a meeting after school, and Aizawa had asked about it, but Hizashi blew him off about some “extra presentation information” shit.

🛌They planned, and oh boy they planned hard.

🛏The next day, during lunch, Hizashi slipped into the library. He stroked up a conversation with you, being the well-known radio star he is, and found out if you were free over the weekend on Saturday Night. He asked if you wanted to hang out with him and Aizawa, and at the mention of him, you quickly agreed. It was cute; how easy it was to see your crush on the man.

🛏Come Saturday morning, Hizashi remembered to inform Aizawa that he’s going to the bar that day. It turned out that Aizawa had. hella plans until an hour after the meet up time, but Hizashi’s way too much of a nice guy to tell you that. So, instead he meets you there and entertains you loosely. It’s not like he’s boring company, and you find yourself opening up to him over a few drinks.

🛏That, that’s the catch; you’re a lightweight. By the time Aizawa grumbled angrily and shows up (notably wearing a small bit of cologne and has his hair in a bun), you’re a giggling mess. The two Class 1-A kids that had followed Hizashi, Kirishima and Momo, were gaping as you grabbed Aizawa’s arm and hugged it like a lifeline.

🛌Plan A failed; on to plan B.

🛏Whilst Aizawa liked the attention from that night, he felt a bit underwhelmed that it was because of your alcohol content, and he definitely pushed Hizashi hard for getting you drunk.

🛏The next idea was all Bakugou’s. He had offhanded said, er, growled, “Just shove them together; she’ll blush and he’ll kiss her. Just get them alone and it’ll happen.” Even though the class was surprised, Midoriya piped up and mentioned that it might work.

🛏Hence how you were happily making your way to Class 1-A due to how Hizashi had called saying that Aizawa needed to ask you about a certain book. As you turned a corner, your unearthly yelp was covered by a hand as you were shoved into a closet. You hit something warm, soft and fleshy, causing your mortified yelp to turn into a scream as the darkness enveloped you.

“Hey, hey, (L/N), calm down,” You recognized that voice…

“Aizawa?” You questioned, standing up straight and holding your clipboard closer to yourself.

“Yeah. I’m guessing the kids did this?” He sighed, and you hummed in response.

“I don’t know; I was just pushed into here.”

“Yamada pushed me in,” he grumbled, and you giggled softly; it was cute, his voice when he did that.

“What’s so funny?” He questioned, but he didn’t sound annoyed like he would with his students; he sounded generally interested.

“Oh, well, I just think it’s cute when you mumble,” You carelessly flirt, forgetting your close proximity to the man. You didn’t see the smirk slapped upon his lips when you said this.

“Really, huh? Well, I think you’re a lot cuter than that,” he prodded, causing your cheeks to align in neon pink.

“I-Um-thank you-“

“No, the pleasure is all mine,” it was then that you felt his hand brush your shoulder, then his fingers cup your chin. Your eyes widened as your breath caught, and he paused at that.

“Why did you stop?” You whispered slightly playfully, and he just grunted in response before closing the gap between your lips. Your hands slipped on the clipboard, and it crashes to the floor as you caressed his cheeks and his other hand rested on your waist.

Ten minutes later, Hizashi and Class 1-A wondered why you hadn’t exited the closet; the door wasn’t locked. When they heard a crash eight minutes ago, they assumed that someone had tripped. But when they heard another one followed by a couple more, their eyes bulged out of their heads.

“S-Sensei?…” Mina slowly turned her head to look at Hizashi, who was gaping like a madman, his glasses at the tip of his nose.

“Hell Yeah!”

#aizawa shouta #mod pasta #scenario #headcanons #sfw #fluff #shouta aizawa #reader x aizawa #aizawa x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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spacyparker · 7 years

Text

Prompts list

Okay guys this is a huge prompt list, feel free to send me a request with one or more prompts. Just tell me if you want it with Peter Parker or Tom Holland and I’ll write it as soon as possible !

Also, you can check my masterlist here

01. "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is No!"

02. “Why did you scream like that ?”

03. "I don't think I could live alone again."

04. "She doesn't understand you like I do."

05. "You've taken her back? You can't be serious?"

06. "There's someone in the house!"

07. "A boy needs his father."

08. "Why didn't he come and talk to me himself?"

09. "Oh my God. You're in love with her."

10. "Is that my shirt?"

11. "There’s only one bed."

12. "If you get me his phone, I might reconsider."

13. "I'm sorry if it upsets you, but I'm going to marry her."

14. "I'll find her and bring her home, I promise."

15. "Am I under arrest, or not?"

16. "What's in that bag and why are you hiding it here?"

17. "For some reason, I'm attracted to you."

18. "You make me feel like I'm not good enough."

19. "Do you ever think we should just stop doing this?"

20. "Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

21. "Could you be happy here with me?"

22. "I have to do something to help that child."

23. "You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?"

24. "This isn't just about you. It's about what's best for all of us."

25. "He was unconscious when I found him"

26. "You embarrassed me this evening."

27. " Does he know about the baby ?"

28. "I think you’re just afraid to be happy."

29. "What do you mean, he's escaped?"

30. "If we both stick to the story, they can't prove anything."

31. "I've been checking you out."

32. "Darling, it's beautiful, thank you!"

33. "You're paying a small price compared with what she's going through."

34. "I miss moments like this more than anything."

35. "Do you think he crashed the car on purpose?"

36. "Well, this is where I live."

37. "I don't often get the chance to talk to someone like you."

38. "You have his eyes."

39. "I'm telling you - the guy was a complete stranger, just walked up and gave me the bag."

40. "If you do this, you will be dead to me."

41. "I never meant to come between you and him."

42. "The way you flirt is shameful."

43. "I'm your daughter."

44. "Quick, hide behind the sofa!"

45. "I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?"

46. "No! I'm tired of doing what you say."

47. "You were always the quiet one."

48. "Just give me my cut of the money and I'll be out of here."

49. "I daren't stay long. I just had to see you."

50. "Please! Stop it! All of you!"

51. "It looks like you're in trouble there. Can I help?"

52. "Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?"

53. "Sorry, its just that I get very nervous when someone else is driving."

54. “You know my name?”

55. “I just came to say goodbye.”

56. “I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.”

57. “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

58. “I wasn’t going to wait around for you forever.”

59. “Is it really you?”

60. “You had me at ‘free pizza!’”

61. “You can’t break my heart like this!”

62. “Do you think it’s possible that I…might be… pregnant? ”

63. “Here, wear my jacket.”

64. “Are you serious? Do you have to do this now?”

65. “My parents asked about you.”

66. “Why is there a drunk man sleeping in the bathtub?”

67. “Can you reach it?”

68. “Can I hold your hand?”

69. “No one will ever hurt you again!”

70. “I just wanted an easy day with my girlfriend. What’s so wrong with that?”

71. “Come over here and make me, then.”

72. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less.”

73. “If I ever see you anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me!”

74. “Are you still awake…?”

75. “Shut up and kiss me.”

76. “Stop talking about the past, I could be dead in a matter of hours… make me up a future.”

77. "Are you drunk?”

78. “Baby, I’m on the phone.”

79. “Where did you find this?”

80. “I think I picked up your coffee by mistake.”

81. “Delete that. Now.”

82. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

83. “We accidentally got married in Vegas oops”

84. “This is so going on Youtube!”

85. “They always make shower sex sound so appealing, but honestly it seems quite dangerous.”

86. "Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?”

87. “Isn’t this weird? Should we not be doing this?”

88. “I beat you at Mario Kart and now you’re banishing me to the couch for the night?”

89. “Who brought pot brownies to the bake sale?!”

90. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

91. “I’m no doctor, but you should have that looked at. It’s bleeding a lot…"

92. “How much sleep have you gotten in the past two days?”

93. "Wanna dance?”

94. “Why are you covered in mud?”

95. “You never told me you had a fucking twin.”

96. “Hey remember when we practiced kissing? That was stupid… right? Right?”

97. "I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

98. “If you’re bored; Wanna have sex?”

99. “This is girl talk, so leave.”

100. “You can sing?”

101. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

102. "Well….don’t keep me waiting”

103. “I can’t swim!”

104. “I was going to kiss him, but then my friend texted me about going to Taco Bell, and, well, there’s this cashier that works there who is way cuter, so I bailed on the rest of the date.”

105. “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”

106. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

107. “Can I touch you ?”

108. “Wait. I didn’t mean that. Please, come back.”

109. “Is that a tattoo?”

110. “Why are you taking so many photos?”

111. “Im too sober for this”

112. “I want to hike up your skirt and take you right here.”

113. "That night never happened!”

114. “Stop acting out Grease Lightning on the top of my car, I have somewhere to be!”

115. “Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving.”

116. “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

117. “I found it in the recycling bin.”

118. "I thought you loved her.”

119. “We’re in a bathtub !”

120. “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”

121. “I just came to say goodbye.”

122. "Sit in my lap.”

123. “One last time, please ?”

124. “How can you still look so attractive while crying.”

125. “Will you be quiet?!”

126. “Wait, you’re a virgin ?,”

127. “I had the weirdest dream about you and now I can’t stop thinking about you naked.”

128. “Who did the laundry? My favourite shirt is pink.”

129. “I’ve been alone for so long..”

130. “Are you happy now? Huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!”

131. "It’s too late for you to be out by yourself."

132. “Choose me”

133. "You’re lying.”

134. “I’m trying to drive here !”

135. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

136. “If you insist”

137. “Time changes people.”

138. “That’s gross ! Unless you’re up for it ?”

139. “Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

140. “Breaking up, was our best choice…right?”

141. “Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now”

142. "Did you buy me… lingerie?”

143. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I need you.”

144. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

145. “You have already broke down my walls, and you had to break my heart.”

146. “Unless I screw this up again, I’m going to marry you.”

147. “Why did you say ‘Daddy’ in your sleep?”

148. "I’m going to walk away and pretend I didn’t see anything.”

149. “But you promised..”

150. “You pushed me off a building.”

151. "Let me shower first!”

152. "Is that… is that my bra?”

153. "Don’t drink that! I saw that guy slip something in there!"

154. “Ask for permission.”

155. "You said my name in your sleep.”

156. "You left your shirt at my house. It’s mine now."

157. “We were just joking around, right? Please tell me you knew that.”

158. “We have to stick together.”

159. "Do that again.”

160. “You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

161. “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

162. “I bet you ten dollars you won’t kiss me.”

163. “Are you an undercover cop or something?”

164. “I heard you singing Taylor Swift in the shower this morning, are you okay?”

165. “You can’t come here and only eat the free samples.”

166. “How was I supposed to know there was someone in the trunk? I was just stealing the car not trying to kidnap you!”

167. “… Where are your pants?”

168. “You said you were good at baseball!”

169. “Hypothetically, if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

170. “Well, I’m happy you think of me when you’re drunk.”

171. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

172. “That can’t be legal.”

173. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

174. “I need a place to stay.”

175. “I may be smaller than you but that still doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

176. “I still have like 50% of your shirts here and I really don’t want to give them back. They smell like you and I realized I couldn’t sleep without one. So if you insist on taking them please just leave one.”

177. “Why do you keep inching closer to me?” “Cause your warm and this damn movie theater is freezing.”

178. “If you could go back in time, would you stop yourself from meeting me?”

179. “So, are you guys dating or?”

180. “I’m way out of your league”

181. “We’re never going to see each other again, are we?”

182. “Even the idea of you being with someone else is enough to make me wish I was dead.”

183. “Will you stop looking so surprised, it’s not like I’ve never worn a dress before.”

184. “Tell me what I have to do to get you to forgive me? Want me to jump off a cliff? Done. Want me to hit your ex with a chair? Deal.”

185. “Every day since you left I thought about where we went wrong and how I could get you back.”

186. “Hey, can I hold your boobs for a sec?”

187. “Take the long way around”

188. “Isn’t that a bit too small for you?”

189. “We’re out of gas, what’s your plan?”

190. “You look… really happy. And normally, I would love that but now that I know it’s not me making you happy.. It’s just fucking with me.”

191. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “…Zebra.” “My dude are you okay?

192. “Tell me I’m pretty before I shoot you in the dick!”

193. “My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on”

194. “I wish you’d be here in my arms right now.”

195. “I’m not gonna stop until you beg for it.”

196. “Stay the night. Please.”

197. “It’s lonely without you in the bed.”

198. “Promise me you’ll come back… I need you to promise me.”

199. “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks ‘till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.”

200. “You’re really proposing to me? For real? Now?”

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takarazuka-rpf · 8 years

Text

ITEIWAY 11

Disclaimer: This is an RPF (Real Person Fiction) meaning anything written here does not reflect the events in real life.

Miyu:

It was quarter to two in the morning and Miyu and MoMo were still in Miyu's living room. The TV played in the background while MoMo lay stretched out on the sofa and Miyu sat on a nearby by chair. The pair hadn't been able to fall asleep due to the fact that MoMo decided to order take-away a couple of hours ago and both were still trying to digest the food in the stomachs. Miyu learnt that when MoMo was stressed out, she liked to indulge herself in as much food as possible (and the people around her too).

MoMo had been staring at her phone while lying down and Miyu wondered how long would MoMo's eye sight last at this rate. She also wondered what MoMo was looking at because from time to time MoMo would burst out laughing while reading something from her phone. Miyu wished she could take a peak too.

It was not the first time Miyu had been left out from someone else's entertainment, in fact she's fairly used to it, used to the fact she sat in the background observing the others around her like a wallflower.

Flashback:

(Miyu POV) Finally it was time for a break and everyone immediately scurried over to their bags to grab out their phones and snacks. Over the weekend, Miyu had made herself some macarons which she was currently excited to share it out with the other Yukigumi members.

When she got to her bag, she plopped down on the bench and took out the box containing the sweet confection. She took special care to make them look pretty with each one having a different colour and flavour which made them even more appetising.

One of them was different from the others though. This special one was cherry-red in colour and shaped like a heart. Miyu smiled to herself as she already knew who she wanted to give this too.

Since Valentine's Day was close, she wanted to do something special for her Top-san and what better idea was there to bake a pastry in the shape of heart. Her heart was beating fast because she didn't know how she was planning to give it to Chigi-san or how Chigi-san would react. Having said this, she felt as giddy as a school girl and as excited as a kid on Christmas Day.

Suddenly from a few benches along, she heard a laugher, a laughter which belonged to no other than Chigi-san.

From where she was, Miyu saw that Chigi-san was in the company of some other musumeyakus, having some sort of conversation. At that moment, Chigi-san's head was thrown back in laughter while one the musumeyakus placed one of her hands on Chigi's thigh and the other over her own mouth covering her own laugh.

Not only did Miyu feel jealous at this scene, she also wished she was part of the conversation and was able to make Chigi-san laugh like that herself.

Chigi-san's smile was one of Miyu's favourite things in this world: the way the corner of her lips curved up, the way she squinted her eyes and the way a small dimple would appear at the corner of her mouth. It was almost infectious because every time Chigi-san smiled, it made Miyu want to as well.

With the box of macarons still opened in her lap, she continued to watch Chigi-san from afar while wishing she was one of them. As she let out a sigh, she wondered how she was going to give Chigi-san this gift now.

Without noticing, Reiko had come and sat down next to her and when Reiko spoke, it caused Miyu to jump slightly.

'What have you got there Miyu-chan? Ooo, a heart-shaped macaron?' This seemed to knock Miyu out of her trance and bought her focus onto Reiko.

'Oh it's nothing! Just something I baked over the weekend…,' said Miyu in a melancholy and crushed tone while looking back down at the box on her lap. Her fingers traced over the edge of the box pondering as to whether she should put the lid back on.

Reiko registered Miyu's weird behaviour and went to search with her eyes the thing Miyu was looking at before Reiko sat down next to her. When she had found what Miyu had been looking at, Reiko immediately understood.

'Go for it Miyu-chan,' said Reiko.

'Eh?' replied Miyu now looking at Reiko with confused, wide eyes. Was Reiko able to read her?

'Go and give it to Chigi-san, that one is for her right?' Reiko pointed to the cherry-red macaron and Miyu's face immediately flushed with embarrassment. Reiko let out a small laugh and proceeded to nudge Miyu with her elbow, 'I'm sure Chigi-san will love it! Since it's made by Miyu-chan herself, I'm sure Chigi-san will be over the moon,' said Reiko giving Miyu a bright smile.

With that, Miyu looked up at Reiko and said, 'you think so?' Reiko responded by giving her an enthusiastic nod and a thumbs up. And just like that, a wave of braveness surged through Miyu's body and she instantly stood up with an air of purpose.

She was going to do it! No musumeyaku will ever get in the way between her and Chigi-san!

Taking a deep breath and giving a firm nod back to Reiko, she turned around and started to walk towards Chigi-san (and her current group of musumeyakus).

(Chigi POV) She didn't think the musumeyakus in Yukigumi were this funny! They had just been telling Chigi about a prank they played on Shou with the help of Saki and its hilarious outcome. Sometimes Chigi really felt sorry for Shou, but it is stories like this that makes Chigi glad they have someone like Shou in their troupe to play pranks on.

When she returned her head back to normal position from her outburst of laughter, a little farther away from her, she noticed Miyu conversing with Reiko.

Almost immediately, her sense of humour was gone and replaced with mild bitterness and annoyance. The musumeyakus next to her were still talking but at this point Chigi had drowned out their voices and was currently looking at Miyu and Reiko with stalking eyes.

But all of the sudden, Miyu stood up and Chigi wondered what had happened. When she saw Miyu turn towards her, Chigi looked away and pretended to divert her attention back to the musumeyakus next to her. Hopefully, Miyu hadn't noticed Chigi looking at her.

(Miyu POV) As Miyu headed towards Chigi with the box of macarons clutched tightly in her hands, she held her breath and walked with determination. If any third person was watching now, it would look like a school girl about to hand a confession letter to the most popular boy in school.

When she was about 2 meters away from her target, Chigi and her group of musumeyakus looked up at her with puzzled and expecting eyes.

Miyu felt like she was going to hurl.

(Chigi POV) From the corner of her vision, she saw Miyu starting to walk towards her. For some reason she started to feel a bit nervous and she wondered why Miyu was approaching her. It looked like she was holding onto a box of something.

When she got closer and closer, the musumeyakus had stopped talking as they had also noticed Miyu's presence.

'Miyu-chan! Are you ok? Is there anything you wanted?' Asked Ei-chan beside Chigi. Chigi was observing Miyu's every facial expression and body language very carefully. Every sign and movement told Chigi that she was nervous and slightly uncomfortable. Miyu's mouth seemed to open and close as she tried to form her words.

'Um, I-I'd like to talk to Chigi-san please,' said Miyu in a timid tone. Hearing her name, Chigi's curiosity immediately peaked as she wondered why Miyu had wanted to talk to her.

However next to her, she could feel the other musumeyakus giving her wagging eyebrows, already teasing her the hell out of her.

Ok maybe it would be a better idea if she and Miyu went somewhere else to talk, out of sight from these snooping eyes.

'Sure Miyu let's go somewhere more quite because currently I'm having a hard time hearing you above all these noisy obasans talking next to me.' Chigi was feeling extra cheeky right now.

After saying this, Chigi received a few painful jabs and strikes on the shoulder from the musumeyakus beside her but Chigi thought she was hilarious. Others may have thought her current mental age was of a 3 year old.

As she hastily got away from the obasans next to her while chuckling, she got up and led Miyu by her arm outside the rehearsal room and closed the door behind them. After that, she turned around and faced Miyu.

'What is it you want to talk to me about?' said Chigi in a hushed tone. She didn't know why she was whispering. Chigi observed that Miyu had her head down and seemed to be fidgeting with the box in her hands. Chigi looked down and saw that the box was filled with multi-coloured macarons. However, one of them was slightly bigger than the others and it was in the shape of a cherry-red heart, her favourite colour. Chigi looked up at Miyu's face again waiting for her reply.

'Chigi-san, I-I baked some macarons… an-and I was wondering if you'd like one,' said Miyu in a quiet voice, so quiet that Chigi almost didn't hear her, but she did. Miyu finished this by looking into Chigi's eyes.

Chigi's heart skipped a beat because she couldn't stand it when Miyu looked at her like this. Feeling her face becoming red, Chigi cleared her throat and looked away.

'Well, only if they taste nice,' said Chigi with a false sense of superiority, teasing Miyu. She stole a quick look at Miyu to see what her reaction was and it was just as she had expected. Miyu's face flushed like crazy and her mouth was furiously trying to form words to respond to Chigi's teasing reply.

'O-of course they taste good! I-I had a taste of them myself and they were delicious!' Chigi can see Miyu was desperately trying to present her case and she couldn't help but to laugh internally to herself.

Clearing her throat again, Chigi continued on with her tease, 'oh really? Well let me be the judge of that,' as she said this, she folded her arms and gave Miyu a sideways look. Not a second later, Chigi could see anger bubbling onto Miyu's face and Chigi have not seen a cuter sight.

With one hand, Miyu picked up the heart-shaped macaron and offered it angrily towards Chigi. Chigi being the mischievous brat she was, pretended to inspect the macaron with an unimpressed expression while bending down which only offended Miyu even further.

Just as Miyu was about to withdraw her macaron, Chigi suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. She then took a bite out of the macaron while it was still held by Miyu. Miyu's eyes widened at Chigi's action and Chigi couldn't be merrier.

As she was chewing, Chigi pretended to judge the flavour while making pensive noises even though this was the most delightful macaron Chigi had ever had. Of course, she was not going to say this in front of Miyu.

'It's not bad I guess…' said Chigi in a causal tone, still observing Miyu to see what her reaction was. 'Umm, I'd give it an 8!' Miyu's eyes widened and a bright smile appeared on her face.

'Really Chigi-san!' gasped Miyu in excitement.

'Out of 100,' Chigi immediately retorted with a smirk on her face. Miyu smile instantly collapsed.

'EHHH?! Nani?!' Whined Miyu. Chigi liked it when she got this reaction from Miyu.

'Well I guess you just gunna have to try harder next time,' said Chigi to a very defeated looking Miyu who had her shoulders slightly slumped and a pout on her face.

Thinking Miyu had probably being teased enough for now, Chigi couldn't resist but to bop Miyu on the nose and say, 'I was only joking, it was delicious.'

Hearing this, Miyu's spirit seemed to return to her and her big grin reappeared.

'But. I expect better next time, if I don't see an improvement, I'll never eat your bakes again,' warned Chigi but of course she was joking. She lived for Miyu's bakes.

Miyu gasped and all of the sudden her game-face appeared, 'Hai! I will definitely do better next time.' Miyu's face was so full of determination Chigi thought she might not be able to contain her laughter.

'Good I'm glad you have that in mind,' said Chigi as if she was a teacher talking to a student. Chigi was definitely enjoying herself.

'Righty-ho then! Let's get back to rehearsals!' said Chigi as she gave Miyu a wave before entering the room herself. Chigi was worried if she stayed too long with Miyu by herself, the obasans from earlier would be wondering things and letting their imagines run wild. As we all know, this was definitely not something Chigi wanted.

However after Chigi had re-entered the room, Miyu stood there for a few more seconds in shock and astonishment replaying the words Chigi had just said to her.

Not only did Chigi compliment her on her food, Chigi had also basically given her the permission to bake more for her in the future.

Miyu felt like she could soar across the sky and never come down. She was that high.

Miyu:

As the clock ticked by, Miyu felt her eye lids getting heavier and heavier. She was about to get up to go to bed when suddenly like a knife cutting through the silence, her private mobile beeped.

Both hers and MoMo's ears pricked up like a dog hearing a car coming up the drive way. At this time of the night who could be calling? It couldn't have been the agency. Was it Haruto-kun?

Reaching for her phone in her pocket immediately, she looked at the sender.

It was from Reiko. Confusion filled Miyu's mind.

Why would Reiko be texting her at this time of the day. Reiko rarely texted her anyway, even though she texted Miyu the most out of all the other Yukigumi members.

Swiping across her screen to unlock her phone, Miyu read Reiko's message.

Hi Yuumi chan, I hope you are all well. As you probably expected, I have seen the news today and questions came to my mind immediately. However, knowing you, I know none of it is true so I don't want you to worry and I want you to know that I’m on your side. Ganbatte Miyu-chan!

Anyway, the reason for this text is not only about me telling you my support for you, but also something else. It is concerning Chigi-san.

Eh?!

Miyu's mind began to ring alarm bells at reading the Chigi-san's name. For all of today, Saki and Hitoko, even Shou, had tried to contact Chigi-san but receiving not a single reply from her. We think there might be something wrong and we are getting more and more worried.

Miyu was panicking immensely now. Why wasn't Chigi-san replying to any of their messages? Did something happen?

Therefore we were hoping you can help us. You are our last resort. If you call Chigi-san, she will probably pick up. Please help us, we are relying on you.

Thank you and let's get together soon. XX

- Reiko

Eh?! Why me? Surely if the others hadn't succeeded Miyu wouldn't either.

Having observed Miyu's multitude of changing facial expressions from the sofa, MoMo finally got up and came over to Miyu to see what was going on. 'Miyu you ok? You look worried, who was that?'

Still with an extremely concerned expression, Miyu handed her phone over to MoMo who started to read over the text message.

'Chigi-san hadn't being replying to any of their messages and they're worried that something might have happened to her,' Miyu said while looking up at MoMo who was still reading the text, 'and I'm starting to worry too… why wasn't Chigi-san replying?' Miyu looked down at her hands and began to fidget nervously. Distress was written all over Miyu's face.

Then from the corner of her eyes, Miyu saw her personal manager starting to do something on her phone.

'Eh?! What are you doing?' Said Miyu trying to snatch her phone back from MoMo. But MoMo was fast and dodged Miyu's attempts.

'I'm calling your precious Chigi-san,' said MoMo trying to find Chigi's phone number high in the air away from Miyu's reach.

Miyu froze and stopped what she was doing for a second.

'EHHHH??!! Why???' Miyu was now physically jumping up and down to retrieve her phone but alas, MoMo was too tall for her.

'Because, you, need to talk to her,' said MoMo calmly despite the physical efforts she was making to get away from Miyu.

'But right now?! It's nearly 02:30!' Miyu's legs had never worked so hard before as she desperately tried to jump up and down trying to get hold of MoMo's arms, 'pleaaaaase don't do it.' Miyu felt like she was about to cry.

'Oops too late now, it's already dialling,' said MoMo now handing Miyu's phone back to her as if nothing had happened. Miyu retrieved her phone with both hands and looked at it as if it was a foreign object not knowing what to do with it.

Her phone was currently displaying 'call in progress' for Chigi-san.

'If you hang up now, it would appear as missed call on Chigi's phone. Either way Chigi would know you called,' said MoMo next to her while playing with her own phone again.

Miyu shot a deadly look towards MoMo but MoMo ignored it. Right now, Miyu could think of a million ways to kill MoMo.

Her thumb was over the 'End call' button but Miyu had to admit it, MoMo was right, either way Chigi-san would know that she had called.

Giving up, she pressed the phone next to her ears while her heart drummed rapidly in her chest.

Suddenly, the line became clear and Miyu felt her heart had jumped up to her throat. A person had picked up.

'Hello?... Who this is?’

The person speaking sounded sleepy and also slightly annoyed. But the only problem was, this wasn't Chigi-san's voice.

Confused, Miyu took her phone away from her ears and read the name of the person she was dialling.

Huh?

The name displayed was Chigi-san but the voice on the other end was not.

Because Miyu did not reply immediately, the person said 'hello' again.

Deciding it was probably best to say something, Miyu said cautiously, 'Um hello? I think I may have got the wrong number….'

There was a slight pause on the other end and Miyu thought maybe she should just hang up. She didn't want to disturb whoever this was from sleeping. Maybe there was something wrong with her phone.

Then as if a bucket of cold water had being poured on her, the person on the other end spoke.

'Miyu-chan?!'

Wait what?

How did she know Miyu's name?

Actually, this voice sounded familiar…

Miyu felt like knew her.

No, she definitely knew her… Wait. Hold on. Wasn't this… 'Seshiru-san?!'

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