#but i think about my weight once (1) and suddenly it’s a problem

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Shapeshifting Detective - Part 8

cw: parental death, grief, referenced murder, police brutality, slow burn, more tags will be added as the story continues

male shapeshifter x fem character

word count: 3k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Kate had no idea how long she’d been in here or if the others had been taken into custody. She’d been waiting for hours, locked away in a room with no windows, no clock, no way of telling the time at all. 

Her wrists were sore. Her brain kept circling back to it over and over again. They were unbearably sore, both of them shackled to the table to prevent her from running off. They were irritating at first but after a while, she came to appreciate them, their unyielding weight helping to keep her present. 

She didn’t know what was happening or how long it had been or what would come of her but she knew her wrists were sore. 

Eventually, even they were not enough. She’d been able to stomach a lot in the last days, but sitting still and alone was not one of them. 

She had nothing to throw herself at, no justice to find. She was just here. Alone, in a room, waiting for the dust to settle. Waiting to see how she would come out of this. If she would come out of this. 

The creak of the door pulled her back to herself and her head jerked up to find whoever had come to break the infernal silence. 

When he entered the room she felt like she could breathe again. Her detective walked up to the table she was chained to and suddenly everything was going to be alright. 

“Harvey,” she said, a swell of relief filling her chest. 

When their eyes met she realized her mistake. “A bit familiar, don’t you think miss? Wonder where you picked up that habit?”

It wasn’t her detective at all. 

His dishevelment told a different story than the one she was used to. Gone was the man who just didn’t quite fit his clothes despite having shaped himself to belong in them, always sitting slightly askew with his wild hair and off-center tie. 

No, this man looked like he’d walked through hell, eyes bloodshot and his stubble growing unruly. 

She had no idea how much he knew about the situation, how much he’d been told about his mysterious doppelganger. The vitriol present on his face said he probably knew more than was good for her. 

He leaned over the table, looming over her, and Kate did her best to pull away with her hands chained, tethering her down. 

“I don’t know you,” she spat out, incapable of feigning demure answers despite knowing it was undeniably in her best interest. 

“Really? That’s odd, some people at the station say we’ve gotten quite close. Congratulated me on latching onto the killer so fast. Wasn’t that clever of me? How did I find you out so quickly, I wonder?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then why did you confess to it.”

Of course he believed her mother. She certainly hadn’t done much to earn any trust with him. It stung anyway. “I didn’t. She’s lying.”

“Now now. Your mother is an upstanding woman, I don’t think she would lie to me. And you…” He grabbed her chin and tilted her head to the side, as if to inspect her. She reeled back, pulling herself from his grip, a movement he seemed to find amusing. “Well, I suppose what I think about you depends on how well we know each other. What do you say, Katherine, do we know each other or not?”

He spat her name at her like it was poison. It might as well have been. 

“You’ve questioned me a few times, that’s all.”

“Oh, just a few. I only remember us speaking once but perhaps I’m misremembering. Maybe I wrote it down somewhere. I did find some very interesting notes about you in my office. They were very complimentary, seemed like we’d spoken quite a lot. Can you remind me if that’s true?”

“It was a couple times. That’s all.”

“Consistent. Smart, you shouldn’t be changing your story.”

“You can’t do this,” she insisted. She knew he could, though. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He could do whatever he liked. Who would stop him?

“I promise you I can. You know what I find odd? The way you looked at me when I walked in here. You didn’t look at me like the prime suspect in a murder case who’d only spoken to me a few times. Who were those big, hopeful eyes for? Because I know one thing for damn sure, they weren’t meant for me.”

“You’re insane,” she hissed at him.

His hand snapped up faster than she could track and then her head was being slammed forward into the table in front of her, the world spinning as she pulled back. 

“I’m going to get the truth out of you one way or another,” he snarled. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she sobbed out.

“Maybe you didn’t. At this point, I don’t really give a shit. What was that thing? Are you one of them?”

“I don’t know anything,” she said through gritted teeth. There was no getting out of this, she could see that now. 

“Yes, you do. You’re on its side, the only thing I don’t know is if you’re a piece of shit turncoat human or one of those monsters.”

The door opened and a man you didn’t recognize walked in. Harvey snapped to look at him, snarling out an impatient, “What do you want?”

The newcomer was some other police officer, his hat not quite facing forwards properly and his jacket buttoned up just one button off. 

“Someone wants to see you,” the newcomer said.

“I’m a little fucking busy, actually.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, and faster than either of them could react, he slammed Harvey forward, throwing everything he had into banging his head into the table. 

It knocked him out cold, his body sliding unceremoniously to the floor as Vincent rushed over to her side, a frantic look in his eyes. 

“Evelyn is in the other room,” he said, speaking as fast as he could get the words out. “They started poking around and we couldn’t make them leave. They were gonna find them either way.” He gestured down at the unconscious man below him. “I just untied them and told them no one would believe them, seemed like the best option at the time.”

She tried to move forward, into his space, the shackles stopping her unbecoming display of desperate affection before it could even really begin. 

He seemed unaffected by Kate coming to her senses about the action, wrapping an arm around her and holding her tight to his side. “Let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, and she could feel his chest moving as he spoke. “I don’t want to- Oh my god, are you bleeding?”

He reached for her instantly, his hand cradling her cheek as the other rose to wipe at a drop of blood she hadn’t even noticed, the viscous liquid spreading across her skin. 

He immediately reached for his pockets, muttering angrily under his breath. 

Upon finding nothing he began rooting around in Harvey’s pockets, pulling out both a handkerchief and a key ring victoriously. 

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised, pressing the handkerchief gently to her wound, cleaning it as best he could before beginning to try the first of many keys. “Just hold on a minute.”

“What are we going to tell them?” she asked as he tried key after key, looking warily out towards the rest of the station. 

“You’ll see. I just have to wait for…”

Before he could finish his sentence, all hell broke loose, the sounds of yelling and rushing about filtering through the door. 

“What is that?”

“Our cue.” He said, trying keys as quickly as he could, a slight shake to his hands as he did. Finally, one clicked into place and the cuffs snapped open. 

Kate stood, rubbing her wrists and Vincent gave her a nervous look. “You may want to turn around.”

The words echoed in her ears and before she could really register them, he was changing. The horrible snapping of his bones accompanied itself with the creation of new angles where they shouldn’t be. 

The cracking and shifting noises were drowned out by the noises of chaos that were slowly filling the building, but it did nothing to stop them from reaching her ears. 

She wondered why he had to shift like this. Surely there were more efficient ways to travel from one body to another. Human bodies weren’t that different, seemingly creating a new set of bones and tissues for every one seemed horribly inefficient. 

She thought, perhaps belatedly, that she should be scared. Or at the very least, horrified. And yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to be. 

It hadn’t even really occurred to her, to be honest. Perhaps some of it was due to her current, exhausted, sluggish state. She just hadn’t thought of it, hadn’t considered being afraid. 

Why would she be, asked a little voice in the back of her head. It was just Vincent. 

Instead, bubbling up, slower than they should have, were other feelings. Relief, gratitude, but nothing resembling the revulsion she was sure should be present. 

As he transformed, she was lost in thought completely, busier mulling over the situation than actually watching the seemingly possible transformation. 

He winced at her as soon as he had enough of a face to wince with. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Vincent looked more scared than she did, staring at her as if at any moment she might scream and run, never to be seen again. 

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It didn’t feel like one, like anything close to being either reassuring or a smile, but he seemed to understand the meaning, giving her a quiet, sweet smile back. 

And then he held out his hand, as if to escort her out of the room. She took it and he led her into the chaos. 

Evelyn seemed to be at the epicenter of it all, shouting and throwing things around the station. No one really seemed to know what to do with themselves, trying to calm her while simultaneously acting like if they got too close they might spontaneously combust. 

As she watched the chaos unfold, the comfortable weight at her side disappeared and suddenly she felt very exposed. 

She glanced around nervously and saw Daniel sitting in the corner, a distant look in his eyes. He seemed like he’d be less of a problem than Harvey had been. 

Evelyn drifted over to her and pulled Kate towards her. She went with little protest, leaning into the woman as she was guided to her side. She was the only other person left who didn’t want her locked up, now that Vincent had made himself scarce. There were worse people’s arms to be clinging to. 

As Evelyn argued and Kate stood, unlistening, at her side, she saw Vincent dart back into the interrogation room and she did her best to avoid looking at the door again, keeping as much attention away from there as much as possible. 

She heard the door creak once more but kept her eyes adamantly forward, tensing up even more at the noise. She imagined no one could tell, it was hard to look more tense than she’d already been. 

She heard Evelyn slam her hand down on the table beside her, hard, and guessed someone’s attention had drifted a little too far. 

Kate should be paying more attention, should be helping more with this plan she wasn’t privy to. She just couldn’t draw herself back into the present. It had been too much, she was too tired. 

And then, storming through the doors of the police station with a bang, was her mother. 

Now she was aware of everything, pulling away from her and further back toward Evelyn. 

An arm snaked around her waist and she was grateful for it, grateful for the reminder that at least someone here was on her side, even if it was more for Vincent’s sake than for hers. 

“Why is she free?” her mother asked, looking around frantically, looking more confused than angry, despite the way she’d entered. 

The policemen around her seemed just as confused as to why Kate was standing amongst them, looking around for someone with an explanation and finding no one. You hoped Vincent would be back soon. You had a feeling you’d be thrown right back into the interrogation room if he wasn’t. 

“She killed him,” Kate insisted quietly, sounding unconvincing even to herself. 

Her mother took a step forward and she couldn’t help but flinch. At that, her mother paused, shifting back once more and keeping her distance. 

“You can’t fool them. They know the truth, they believe me.” Her voice sounded strained and distant and Kate couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was just her mind going. Nothing seemed to quite make sense anymore. 

“They do,” she said, slumping further into Evelyn’s side. The woman took her weight without protest, giving her side a little squeeze that she couldn't make sense of. 

“Of course they do! I am a well-respected woman. And who are you? Unmarried, unsociable, why would they believe you?” The words were careful, intentional, but not how they normally were. There was no tact behind them, not really. 

As she yelled at Kate, restrained and unnoticing of the people watching, it occurred to her that this was not, in fact, her mother. Her mother would never make a scene like this and if she did, if she really snapped like she was supposedly doing right now, she would not keep her distance and try her best to avoid frightening Kate. 

Because that’s what she was doing, stepping away, keeping from shouting too loud, keeping the blame from Kate's shoulders as best she could. It was a show, one calculated to harm her as little as possible while revealing the truth to some closed-minded police officers. 

But Vincent was struggling, struggling to make it natural and believable, so she threw him a bone. 

“You can’t fool me,” Kate said loudly, having no problem making it believable. Maybe she should give Vincent some lessons when this was all over. “They’ll see it soon too. I know you killed him.”

“And I would’ve killed you too if I knew how much trouble you’d cause me,” she said with a scoff. 

And then her eyes widened, looking around at where she was, her breath catching in her chest before she turned tail and ran. 

Everyone was too shocked to stop her, quick orders to chase her down being shouted amidst the chaos. 

Most of the officers left, starting the search efforts. Those who remained didn’t seem to know what else to do with Kate, milling around her awkwardly. 

“What are you doing?” Evelyn snapped. “You heard the woman, she’s innocent, don’t you have better things to be doing than terrorizing this poor girl any further.”

They didn’t seem fully convinced but they seemed more frightened of Evelyn than they were wary of Kate. 

She wondered what it would take for them to fully be done with her, be entirely convinced of her innocence. She imagined there was very little at this point. She’d already messed up too badly, broken too many rules. That crime she was guilty of and so they were convinced that something must be wrong. 

She couldn’t bring herself to care any longer. There was no anger left in her. 

Evelyn began to pull her towards the door and she followed like a well-drilled pup. 

Harvey passed them as they attempted to flee and she knew instantly that it was her detective. She was so much better at seeing it now, at recognizing it, even as distant as she felt. 

He smiled at her and then turned towards the rest of the precinct. 

“And that concludes this case. My apologies for keeping this from you, but I felt the ruse was necessary to find the truth. The lovely Miss Katherine here was willing to help, once she heard my plan. Her intention, of course, was to clear her mother of any suspicion. When we cornered her, she told a different tale. I just needed time to settle the case. Fortunately, she seemed set on doing it for me,” he finished with a put-on laugh.

She heard Evelyn sigh beside her and mutter under her breath, just barely loud enough for Kate to hear, “He really is too much.”

Confused murmurs filled the precinct but Vincent did not seem like he wanted to stick around to clear anything up. 

That felt like it was best. She had no idea where the real Harvey had ended up in the chaos or how long they had until he returned. 

She let Vincent lead her off, Evelyn shifting Kate over to him, shouldering most of her weight as they walked. 

She stayed tucked carefully into his side. It felt safe there, secure in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Why didn’t you do that before freeing me?” she asked, much later than she should have, but at least she still had the sense to ask at all. 

He looked away, a sheepish air taking over him. “I didn’t want to keep you locked in there any longer than I had to. The plan was just to incapacitate Harvey but… it wasn’t right.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I got the job done though.”

“Hmm.” And then, perfectly patient, holding out just long enough to not inconvenience them too badly, she collapsed. 

[writersdare]

In the Hands of Two | Bang Chan 방찬

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan was grateful for Y/N gifting such strong feelings, but at some point it became unbearable to carry them alone.

Warning: friends to lovers

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1 510

Author’s Note:  I miss describing emotions and deep thoughts of characters, so this one is rather special. I hope you'll like it ♡ Remember, your engagement helps so-so much!

To love someone… was it a blessing or a curse? Chan couldn’t exactly figure it out. The guy was grateful for Y/N gifting him such emotions. The feeling like everything was possible, like he could do it all at once and never get tired. He genially was happy to finally go through something that he only read and fantasised about before, and Chan could bet his life that it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. However, even the most perfect things tended to have their “buts”. In fact, the “but” was a big one, the size of Seoul’s skyscrapers — Y/N was his friend. The constant thought of that fact made Chan’s heart fall on the ground and never come back to a normal beat. How could he mess up so much? It was the most basic and trivial rule the guy shouldn’t have broken, yet, he did. 

Chan couldn’t exactly recall the moment when he realised he fell for her completely. It was happening gradually and then collapsed to the idol suddenly, with all the weight of those unbearable feelings. Funny how love could be so easy when was held by two, and how heavy it was once it was in the hands of only one person. 

The guy’s mood was swinging worse than seesaws he used to like so much as a child. One morning he’d be determined to spill everything out, beg Y/N for forgiveness and maybe for a little chance. Another sleepless night Chan would scold himself for being such an idiot, for overlooking the time when he still could stop himself. As if it was possible to control the feelings… As if it was just a silly anger or nerves, tickling the stomach. The problem of love was that it consisted of all feelings at once. Happiness, pain, fear, joy… The guy looked at her eyes and believed he could fly. Another second, when she wasn’t smiling at him but someone else, the feeling was eating him up like worms on a fresh grave. 

Chan couldn’t control his emotions. He’d hate himself for snapping at his members simply because Y/N suddenly paid a bit more attention to them than him. The guy would hate the fact that she was his friend, and that he was so blind in the beginning, when they first met. If he had known it’d be that way, he’d confess right away, avoiding the stupid friend zone. However, all those thoughts of the past didn’t make things any better or easier. The past was the past, and Chan, unfortunately, couldn’t change it.

Could he change the future, though? Could he actually make another dream of his come true? After all, the guy knew how determined he was, always being able to get what he wanted. With the career, no matter how hard it was, the musician usually — well, most of the time — knew which direction to follow. With Y/N it was completely different, and the guy was lost. He used to believe that he liked taking risks, and yet, when it was coming to the confession, his whole body would go numb just thinking of it. 

It became sort of a tradition to be occupied with that mess in his head, days and nights; even when the girl was around. Or especially when she was around. It was harder to keep a secret, and it felt as if Chan was going to burst up any second. 

"Coffee," he smiled and placed a cup of latte with coconut syrup on a table, next to Y/N. The guy felt ridiculous for being so whipped for her, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

"Thank you. Are you reading my mind?" the girl looked up at the friend and smiled. Chan had always been rather attentive, so such gestures were not exactly surprising, however, they did become more frequent recently.

At that moment Chan was ready to give everything to read Y/N mind, indeed. Just to know if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Or at least if she liked him not just as a friend. He wished he could read her mind…

"Not exactly, I just know you well enough," the guy grinned and took a seat next to her, trying to look as casual as it was possible. Chan couldn’t stop smiling, though, once Y/N’s pretty lips touched the edge of the cardboard cup carefully. She tasted the drink, trying to figure out the flavour of the syrup, and he wished the girl could know how adorable she looked. With her he started to dream more. In fact… what was stopping him to let Y/N now how wonderful she was?

"You’re so pretty," the guy suddenly mumbled. Once the words left his mouth, the idol couldn’t believe he really said it.

Y/N, though, just smiled again and friendly petted Chan’s shoulder.

"You’re always so nice to me."

The musician was ready to scream. No, he needed to scream. To hell with the voice, he needed to let it all out, otherwise he’d just explode. 

"Right," was his only reply. The guy’s ears turned red, and he looked at the screen of his laptop, trying to concentrate on a song. Y/N joined him in the studio that day to be the first listener of a demo. Most of the time Chan’s head was full of music, but at that moment he didn’t feel so creative.

The guy sighed heavily and stood up sharply, starting to walk back and forth and trying to reason himself – he needed to calm down.

"Chan, what’s wrong?" Y/N chuckled, although wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. No matter how cute the friend looked, she could read anxiety on his face, too.

The idol suddenly stopped and simply spilled out, staring at Y/N.

"Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints," he growled, getting angry at Y/N, at himself, at basically the whole situation he happened to be in. 

"What?" Y/N blinked, and the heart skipped its beat. She was staring back at Chan and couldn’t believe her ears. Literally, as once the words of confession were uttered, it became very noisy, her ears were ringing.

"I like you, Y/N," Chan whined, throwing hands up to the ceiling, being simply desperate.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he simply couldn’t. "If she was going to scream at me or ask how could I, how could I break the basic rule of the friendship," he thought. "So be it." It was worth it all. One more day with that huge secret in his heart, and he’d go crazy. 

However, once he let it out, a wave of fear covered the guy from top to bottom. He messed up again, maybe even more than before.

"Y/N…"

"Chan…"

"No-no… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have," the guy squatted down in front of Y/N and covered her palms with his. "Please, just forget it. Just forget it, we still can be friends and–"

"I don’t want to," the girl interrupted, looking in the eyes.

"You don’t?…" Chan mumbled, and his face became paler than usual.

"I don’t want to be just friends," Y/N continued quietly and broke the touch only to change the position of their hands and to cover his palms with hers instead. "I like you, too," she whispered, feeling how everything was shaking inside. Only after saying the truth, Y/N realised that she wasn’t even looking at Chan, being too nervous.

"You do?…" they guy echoed after some time, as if wasn’t sure if he heard her right. Then his lips stretched in a wide smile. "God, I’m such an idiot. I freaked out… Y/N," he giggled anxiously. Chan couldn’t believe that it was real; that finally the love for her wasn’t so heavy. Cause she took the part in her hands, too…

"I was scared, too," Y/N admitted. "We were always… close, but I know how career is important to you, and I didn’t… think… us, being more than friends, would be possible."

"It is. It is possible," Chan hurried up to reassure, looking at her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he almost whispered, feeling the warmth spreading all over his body.

The only one regret the guy had was not being brave enough to tell Y/N everything earlier. The fear and worries were long gone, as if he had never experienced it at all. Funny how things could be easily forgotten. Not the feelings, though. They stay in the hearts until the very end.

"You threatened me with it twice today, but still didn’t do it," she teased him, but not for too long. Another second the guy took a seat next to Y/N and, pulling her closer, simply pressed the lips against hers in a tender kiss. 

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found them here @gnabnahc –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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[gatzilksis-2]

My Stepfather Joe: 2023 Christmas Special 1

(This is based on true events, also following the original My Stepfather Joe stories. You can still enjoy if you haven't read them!)

18+

December 22

I got off a Greyhound bus at a McDonald's. My mom got out of her new SUV and waved me over. We got into the vehicle, and she started the short drive to her house. "Sorry to hear about your breakup."

"I don't wanna talk about it," I replied. I watched her drive up a windy road. "I can't believe how long it's been since I've been here."

"I know. What's the last time you saw Joe?"

I looked out the window, shrugging. It had been a good long while, but I still thought about him all the time. Joe and my mom had been together since I was a kid. He was cool and all, but the best part about him was his gas.

As Mom got closer to their house, I hoped his gas problems remained. It wasn't something I was comfortable asking Mom about directly.

She turned into their long, sloped driveway and stopped at the top. My mouth fell open at the sheer amount of junk and stuff piled in the center of their driveway, all in boxes. The boxes were stacked and piled in a line that disappeared into the garage.

"That's the garage sale stuff?" I asked.

"Yeah. He gets it from old storage units and sells it out of here and his friend's house." Mom rolled her eyes as she got out. "I hate it."

"I could tell." I got out with her, stepping onto the big front deck and into the house. I was hoping to walk into a fart, but the air smelled of food, instead.

"Hello?" Mom called as she padded into the massive kitchen.

I smiled when I saw Joe. He was visibly shorter than the last time I'd seen him. I was sad to see he lost some of his weight. It was healthier for him, but I thought he looked better with it. Now, with his curly hair and big beard a lighter shade of gray, he almost looked like Santa Claus.

"Hey!" Joe hugged me, unfortunately without a fart. He was wearing a sweater with a snowman on it and shorts with slippers. Joe pulled away from me and gestured to the oven. "I got a bunch of different chickens roasting; honey barbecue, teriyaki, one spicy, and one with just garlic butter."

"Sounds good."

We did some catching up as the food finished cooking, and we sat down to eat. Mom and I sat to either side of Joe. The entire time we chowed on our chickens, there were no signs of gas. I tried not to show my disappointment as I caught them up with a few stories from the past years.

I figured the chickens would do it. I ate as much as I could, while Joe had already eaten twice as much as me. I carried my dishes to the sink. "I forgot how good your cooking is."

"Thanks!" Joe got up with his own empty plate. As he walked towards me, it finally happened. Vwrrr-rrrmm-BWRRT! Joe's walking farts fell out in a booming splendor, and my mom pulled her head back.

Joe laughed and squeezed my shoulder. "You forget about that?"

"No." I smiled and put my dishes in the dishwasher, then walked back to the table. And there it was; the strong, skunky scent of Joe's farts that I'd been deprived of for too long.

"Come outside. I'll show you the business." Joe headed outside without me.

"I'll be back," I said to Mom and followed.

"In here!" Joe yelled from the garage.

I walked in and gasped: the garage was filled with stuff, displayed in cases and on tables and hidden in more and more boxes. "Holy shit!"

"Yeah. I got a lot, but think how much money I can make off this." Joe was too excited about this endeavor. He went on and on, but I was barely listening. It was all about how much each thing was worth.

There was barely any space to move in here. Back in the day, Joe would've taken advantage and farted at least once by now. But he just kept moving around the space, pointing out dozens of antiques.

And then suddenly, the smell came without warning, more rotten than the one inside, caught on a small breeze coming in from the driveway. I let it into my nostrils while Joe's back was to me. I think age was making his farts better, even if they were further apart.

"You can have anything you want." Joe gestured across all of the stuff. "Anything!"

"Thanks. I'll have to look before I leave."

"Come here." Joe started towards the driveway. He was going to show me more stuff. I couldn't take much more talk about boring antiques and their dollar values.

I walked through the crowded garage to him. When I was almost there, Joe bent his knees. Pwarp-farp-PHRRP! He stood straight and laughed as I came up behind him. The smell caught me right away, and I silently let it into my senses. "How do you get me every time?"

"Still!" Joe chuckled as he waddled out to the other piles of boxes and stuff.

He continued to explain about his stuff, and I continued to listen the best I could. We finally went back inside without him farting again, but he did head straight for the bathroom.

It was getting late, so we put on a Christmas movie and got ice cream. They only had an extra-cushiony couch and loveseat now, instead of a separate chair for Joe.

I waited for him to come in before taking a seat. "Where do you usually sit?"

"Right here." Joe sat on the long, lounge part of the couch, kicked his big slippers off his bare feet, and put them up in front of him.

Mom sat on the loveseat, so I sat on the big, open spot left on the couch. I appreciated that it was closer to Joe.

He downed his ice cream before it could even get soft and set the bowl on his belly. Joe lifted one leg into the air. PHWRRRT! "Oops."

Mom didn't react, but I laughed. I got up with my bowl, still with a few bites left. "I can get you more, if you want."

"Yeah. Thanks." Joe held his bowl up. I bent to get it, entering his most recent skunky gas cloud.

I got both of us more ice cream and returned. Joe finished his quickly again and walked the bowl to the sink himself. He let out a large belch, and when he turned back, he was pushing up his sweatshirt to rub his belly.

"You didn't take your pill, did you?" Mom chastised.

"No, but I'll be fine." Joe stopped rubbing his belly, but his shirt stayed up. He walked back to the couch, but this time, he passed his seat and turned to stand in front of me.

A silent fart, the strongest of the day by a longshot, attacked me, and I gave a little cough as I took a bite of ice cream.

"Oh, Joe!" Mom yelled and fanned a hand.

"Aah!" Joe took his seat back with a jovial grin.

That moment was vital for me, because it felt like old Joe. I hoped he would continue to act like this the next two days I'd be here.

Continued in next part...

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Speak of the Devil (Part 2) ~ Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

{Author’s Note} Finally managed to finish this so thank you guys for your patience! I attempted to write some ~flirting~ between the reader and Ghost but don’t know how successful I was lol. I’m thinking I’ll write a part 3 that’ll be a little bit more interesting and perhaps spicier so I’d love to know if you guys would be interested in reading that. Leave a comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

{Tag List} @deadbranch​

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader (Alias: Halo)

Part 1

‼️Content Warning: swearing, suggestive themes‼️

~ ~ ~

“Ow, shit.” You lean back against the counter in an attempt to take weight off your injured leg. It’s nearly healed, but still aches if you stand on it for too long. Now you just have to figure out how you’re going to get your favorite mug from the highest shelf without causing yourself more problems. 

“What the hell are you doin’, Halo?” Ghost asks suddenly, startling you so bad that you nearly slip off the countertop in your effort to reach the top shelf. “Are you tryin’ to snap your neck as well as your ankle?”

You turn to glare at him. “The doc said I’m almost healed,” you tell him and try grasping for your mug again, “And I just want some damn coffee so I can actually stay awake today.”

Ghost’s heavy sigh sounds in your ear and you’re suddenly hoisted off the countertop. You yelp at the movement, heat gathering in your cheeks as you realize Ghost had scooped you up and deposited you in a nearby chair. 

“I don’t understand your obsession with this bloody thing,” he growls as he easily grabs the coveted object from the shelf, his back stretching and arm tensing with the movement. It’s difficult not to notice the flexing of his muscles when he’s wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his figure perfectly. But despite his tone, he handles the mug gently and passes it to you without issue. 

“My parents gave it to me,” you say simply, smiling fondly at the memory as you pass your thumb over the garish lettering printed on the clay. “It’s a nice reminder of home.” 

Ghost’s eyes soften at your admittance, his usually rigid form relaxing just enough for you to notice. You wonder if he’s smiling under that threatening mask of his and hope you’d someday get to see it. 

He finally shifts his gaze. “I’ll make some tea,” he murmurs. “Don’t need you tryin’ to kill yourself today.”

You scoff and hand your mug back. “Could you be any more British?”

Once your mug is full of steaming tea, Ghost demands you get back in bed to heal. 

“Ghost, I’m fine,” you whine, making sure to be as dramatic as possible. “The medic said I’m healing right on schedule so don’t tell me what to do.”

The statement slips out before you can stop yourself. You freeze in your seat as Ghost narrows his eyes, his arms crossing over his large chest. 

“S-Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

You shriek as he picks you up again and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. 

“For that, I’m lockin’ you in your room, Halo,” he grunts, easily carrying you down the hall toward the bedrooms. 

“What about my tea?!” you yell and pound on his back with closed fists. 

“Your tea privileges have been revoked,” is his reply. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you snap back, hardly able to keep a smile from sneaking up on your lips. It’s then that Soap appears in a nearby doorway and you reach for him in an attempt to escape. 

“Soap! Ghost’s gone crazy!”

“What—?”

“None o’ your business, Johnny,” Ghost states before the Sergeant can say anything else. “Keep walkin’.”

“Good to see you two are bonding,” Soap says with a laugh and does as he’s told, a grin plastered across his face as he leaves you to deal with Ghost alone. 

Finally, after a good amount of whining and pleading, Ghost sets you on your feet again. Your back hits something flat as you trip in your effort to wiggle free from his grasp and you realize it’s the door to your room. 

Placing a hand above your head, Ghost leans in close, dark eyes scanning the slopes and angles of your features. You wish you could pick apart people like he can. He notices the tiniest shifts in expression and tone, always putting him a step ahead of whoever he’s engaging with while his own secrets remain well-hidden. It’s a frightening tactic and you can tell he likes using it to his advantage. 

“You gonna behave yourself?” the Brit asks and straightens slightly to allow you a bit of breathing room. 

“If you mean being bored in my bed all day, then sure,” you reply, lip curling at the idea of spending yet another day to rest. You feel like you’re going to start bouncing off the walls if your ankle takes any longer to fully heal. You’re itching to get out in the field again. 

Ghost hums in thought, his eyes taking on a strange glint you hadn’t seen before. The look makes your heart flutter against your ribs and inspires a rather mischievous thought. 

You lean forward, mimicking Ghost’s earlier stance as your face is just an inch or two from his mask. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you lock eyes with the Lieutenant, enjoying the surprised curiosity reflected within his dark irises.  “I can think of something far more interesting for us to do,” you tease, hoping you don’t sound as stupid as you feel.  “Oh, yeah?” Ghost says.  You nod. “My bed has enough room for two, you know.”

Ghost crosses his arms and you can just imagine the unimpressed scowl beneath his skull mask. You shuffle beneath his gaze but refuse to back down, blinking innocently up at him as he releases an amused chuckle. 

“A tempting offer,” he retorts, “But like I said, you need to rest.” 

“Maybe later, then?” you quip with a sheepish grin. 

“Keep it tactical, Halo. Don’t start something you won't be able to finish,” he tells you as he heads back down the hallway. 

His statement sparks a fire in your chest that you know will be difficult to ignore from now on. You remember the glint in his eyes from a few moments ago and fall asleep wondering if your lieutenant perhaps had a warmer heart than he liked to claim. 

[ummick]

"Keep an eye on Formula 1"

Alpine newcomer Mick Schumacher will be competing in the WEC Sports Car World Championship for the first time at the beginning of March. In the interview he talks about getting used to the LMDh racer A424 and explains why the long distance increases his chances of getting into Formula 1.

Interviewer: "How many test kilometers have you already been able to collect in the Alpine A424?" Mick: "I would estimate the total distance at 2,000 to 3,000 kilometers." Interviewer: "What's the first thing a Formula 1 driver notices when he switches to a prototype?" Mick: "You suddenly have a disc in front of you. [laughs] As a driver, you naturally notice the higher weight, which cannot be compensated for by the aerodynamics. That will always be part of the car and therefore also the driving experience. This is a big point for me. The vehicle feels very sluggish and very heavy. Compared to the other cars in the field, it is of course just as heavy. It's only when you switch directly from a Formula 1 vehicle that you think to yourself: What's going on here? Only after you get used to it does it feel relatively good." Interviewer: "At the same time, you are a simulator and test driver for Mercedes. How quickly can you make the change?" Mick: "That's no problem at all. As a professional racing driver you have to be able to change. Habit and muscle memory help." Interviewer: "Do your experienced colleagues also help?" Mick: "Absolutely. I'm learning a lot of new things and I'm looking forward to starting in Qatar soon. There I will drive more GT3 cars and hypercars on the track. That will be a big difference. It certainly helps that I know Qatar. This gives me the advantage of feeling comfortable a little quicker."

Interviewer: "Will getting through traffic quickly be the biggest challenge?" Mick: "Yes, you have to make the right decisions. Sometimes it's better to let the slower cars get ahead first and then overtake them when it's safer. Many of the other drivers have an amateur background-simply the surgeon or dentist next door-and need more time for themselves than the professionals." Interviewer: "It is also important to be considerate within the team. How do you adapt to your colleagues?" Mick: "I don't think it's as difficult as you might imagine. In the end you have to perform and look after yourself. I want to do the best possible job for myself. Outside the car we need to communicate and help each other more. This is a completely new approach for me, but one that I find relatively positive because you learn a lot of new tricks and can try them out." Interviewer: "How different are the tires?" Mick: "We don't have electric blankets in the WEC. That means we drive out onto the track with ice-cold tires. The big factor this year will be getting the tires to work. For me it's a positive experience because then, when I hopefully return to Formula 1, I will be used to driving without electric blankets. Interviewer: "Are the energy management systems of the two hybrid car concepts comparable in any way?" Mick: "There are different approaches. In hypercars, state-of-charge is not such a big issue. We get a certain total amount of energy that we can use. The more we hold back, the longer we can drag out the stint. This reduces pit stops. We put a lot of effort into the distribution, especially for Le Mans." Interviewer: "Your debut at Le Mans is scheduled for mid-June. What do you expect from the highlight of the season?" Mick: "I'm just happy! I've never been there before and only watched it once on my cell phone. Basically, Formula 1 has always been the only goal for me. But now I have the chance to experience it myself as a driver, and after my teammates told me how great the event is, I'm approaching the weekend with an open mindset." Interviewer: "Do you see any parallels to your father's Le Mans program, which paved the way to Formula 1? Or could the long-haul also become a perspective?" Mick: "I missed racing and the WEC was the best possible option for it. Of course, I keep one eye on Formula 1 and could imagine that one or two doors will open in the current chaos. Nothing will change about the big dream." Interviewer: "What does the double program mean for your travel planning?" Mick: "That's a few more race weekends than I'm used to. There is also a fairly large test program with the hypercar. I hope I can get the best out of it despite the six overlapping dates. I'm looking forward to the challenge. It will definitely be one."

[conkreetmonkey]

I've been thinking about how odd it is that despite their reputation for being the easiest type of houseplant to keep, I actually have worse luck with cacti than any other kind of plant, and I think I've finally figured out why: cacti don't let you know when they're not doing well.

Think of a plant with leaves. When you water it too little or too much, give it too little sunlight, whatever the problem is, it will usually visually show that it's unhealthy. Leaves will wilt, stems will droop, discolouration will delelop, and it will be obvious that you are doing something wrong. While it's obviously not intentional communication and just visual symptoms of a plant being unhealthy, in a purely analogous sense, leafy houseplants could be considered more "honest" than a cactus. When they're not doing well, they "tell" you, and you have time to adjust their situation before they die.

The cactus, however, does not communicate when it is not doing well. When you take care of a cactus in a way it doesn't like, it gives no outward visual indicator of this. It simply up and rots one day, like a switch was flipped, and you never even know what exactly you did to kill it.

I recall reading a book once in which a man goes on a pilgrimage through egypt. He spends a good deal of the trip on the back of a camel, but his mentor advises him to sell it and get a horse instead, his reasoning being that horses let you know when you're pushing them too hard and you can guage what they're capable of based on what they communicate to you, whereas camels will always stoically push through any amount of pain until they literally collapse of exhaustion and die underneath you. While the camel may seem "stronger" in this regard, the horse is far more practical because it communicates its feelings. When it is tired, it tells its owner through body language and horse noises and whatnot. The camel's complete lack of complaint is the reason the hero of the story trades it in for a horse; this "strength" is actually its biggest weakness.

And while I've been thinking of these things, of cacti and camels, I think it could apply to people to. I've heard and live by the Tumblr saying "people don't go from 0-100 out of nowhere, and if it seems that way they were actually at 99." I don't remember who said it, but it holds true. We all know a person who hold their emotions in until one day they explode with rage or tears, and we all know how this makes us feel, like we're walking on eggshells around them because we can't tell if they're at 1% or 99%. Talking to this kind of person is like driving a car with no fuel guage. It's stressful, because theoretically any moment could be the one the car suddenly grinds to a halt. You never know if it needs gas, or how much, because the car always insists no gas is needed, despite both of you knowing this isn't true. It doesn't want to bother you by asking for a refuel or telling you how far it thinks it can drive. It always insists it's fine, despite all cars needing a fuel source simply because that's how cars work.

So I urge you, don't be a cactus to your family and friends. Be a leafy plant. Allow yourself to wilt. Be emotionally honest, so that we can know when you need help. Everyone would vastly prefer that to you collapsing under the weight one day, never having asked for help, hoping against hope that this time, through sheer force of will, you would cease to have limits. Plants need water, pack animals need rest, cars need gas, and you, my friend, need some level of emotional support in your life, as all people do. Don't be afraid to act like it, it's far more practical in the long run.

[patronsaintofteachercrushes]

1/12

things are starting to feel weird again.

U has been so weird with me and i don’t know, it sort of hurts. i mean he told me i was his favorite. so why does he get to suddenly pull away ? i don’t understand.

H though… yeah. he was gone yesterday and i asked him why, and he just flat out told me. which was strange because he normally likes to beat around the bush. he said he was at the hospital, i asked what for. he said for his spouse, paused, and then said she needed a port (??) put into her chest for chemotherapy. i didn’t know what to say, i felt bad for even asking. i wanted to reach for him but i knew that would be inappropriate. i asked if she was okay, he nodded. i wasn’t sure what else to do so i nodded back and walked to my desk. i felt kind of guilty about it afterwards, because how could i do this to a person ? how could i lust and fawn and romanticize someone else’s husband ? i felt sick. for a moment i thought i’d lost all feelings for him because of just how awful i felt for him, not in a pitiful way but in a pray to God for his wife’s health for him way. i felt like i couldn’t do it anymore, like him i mean, i didn’t want to add any more weight to his life. suddenly my crush felt more like a disservice rather than something fun and girly, like i was some how worsening his and his wife’s condition.

the interesting part about this though is that he does not wear a ring. i have never once seen him wear one, and he’s mentioned a girlfriend to me twice now. he’s never mentioned a wife, or spouse. it’s confusing. he doesn’t really seem like the marrying type, so for him to then just switch from ‘girlfriend’ to ‘spouse’ is interesting. the context of the conversations we’ve had where he mentioned a girlfriend have been too intimate to be girl friend, like game night and adopting a dog, so i’m assuming it’s the same woman.

but he came over to me later and talked and joked like how we used to do and it all came rushing back to me. he teased me, said i was smiling too much. my friend said that i was just a happy person, and he said “no she’s not.” and i don’t know— it’s not like he’s wrong exactly. i wouldn’t describe myself as a happy person, but it felt so strange hearing it from him. someone else to confirm that i wasn’t how i appeared to others, someone to really see who i was. who i am under the layers of the part i try to portray. i wondered then if he knew what i was up to. wondered if he noticed how i stare at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever exist. wondered if he understood the implications of my actions and words. wondered if maybe he wasn’t so oblivious of my feelings towards him. but that’s a problem for another day.

he also brought up the banana bread, which was alarming as well. i never told anyone about it besides like my closest friends, so no one in my class. and as you guys know, i expressed to him my worry about people finding it weird. so for him to bring it up like that… you know ? my friend said “what ?” in response to it, and i just ignored it so she didn’t press much further. i’m not mad or upset that he said it, it’s just like the principle of it. him saying that i wasn’t as happy as i tried to act in front of people, him bringing up something personal between us, him knowing about me and my ways. it felt intimate to me, in a way i can’t explain very well and i think i’m typically able to express myself.

[homemade-ghosts]

I know this is a kind of weird question, but why do you think you never got into EJ and Gina?

I saw a comment saying was season 3 was backtracking, "how their relationship was so genuine and supportive in the first two seasons then suddenly all the development was gone in s3 with EJ back to being inconciderate and Gina is back to having feelings for Ricky'

Not a weird question at all! 

I’ll start with things I think I’ve mentioned in previous PW-related asks (just to get the repetition out of the way lol). They share no common ground beyond both initially being seen as the scheming antagonists when the series began. They don’t understand each other — nor does EJ ever make a concerted effort to understand Gina, beyond asking her (literally one time) what it feels like to be constantly moving. They don’t communicate well; EJ put no effort into maintaining their relationship. + EJ essentially refuses to support Gina the second it becomes inconvenient for him (sure, he’ll pick her flowers to congratulate her on landing the lead, but then he’ll negate that by immediately talking about himself and his failings without giving Gina a moment to celebrate her own success). 

& on top of EJ & Gina being, on paper, not compatible — regardless of who they are being played by — there’s also the fact that I have never once felt an ounce of romantic chemistry watching Sofia & Matt on screen together. Chemistry is, in part, something that just is. You either have it with your scene partner(s) or you don’t. They don’t. (IMO) That’s problem #1. & even actors who establish that natural onscreen chemistry can’t coast on that alone, to really get the audience (in this case, me lol) invested, they both have to have the emotional range to back it up. 

Which brings me to problem #2: I don’t think Matt has the kind of depth, as an actor, that it takes to be a good scene partner to someone as incredible an actor as Sofia. I don’t want it to sound like I’m just trying to dunk on Matt, he seems like a nice guy and I by no means think he’s a bad actor (I don’t think anyone on the show is a bad actor) but, in my opinion, he doesn’t bring much, if any, nuance to his performance. It’s always very…shallow — meaning that Sofia, too often, has to carry (most? all?) the emotional weight in their scenes together. Josh, in contrast, is a much stronger actor who can hold his own in a scene with Sofia because he’s capable of giving a layered performance. Like Sofia, there’s so much going on behind his eyes, so much in the slight change of a facial expression. She doesn’t have to do all the heavy lifting in their scenes together, it’s more of an equal partnership.

I should probably also mention that I have never exactly loved EJ as a character, for reasons completely unrelated to Matt’s portrayal of him. Even when s1 was airing and he was in everyone’s “Big Three” edits on Twitter, I didn’t really get the appeal. I thought he was funny sometimes and a necessary part of the show’s narrative, but I had a hard time rooting for him because his problems were often so trivial compared to other characters’. Like, Ricky’s parents were in the midst of a divorce and his mom was miles away, seemingly starting a new life with a new relationship, without him. Gina had finally found a home and friends and somewhere to belong, only to have all of that ripped away from her, out of nowhere, the instant her mom gets a call from work. Meanwhile, EJ…lied and lost Instagram followers because of it ?? & I’m expected to sympathize with him? Then, in s2, Gina is heartbroken, without her mom to comfort her, Ricky is forced to move out of his childhood home & Nini is finally embracing her independence and learning not to see herself through the eyes of others and EJ just…doesn’t get into one Ivy League school until his dad effectively buys his way in and again, I’m supposed to feel for him because he's sad he couldn't earn that spot on his own? The only thing I feel is that he’s incredibly privileged. & when he was desperate to please his dad in s3, I tried to care (because it's the closest he's ever come to genuine struggle on the series) but I couldn’t because he was doing it at the expense of Gina & her feelings — something he never took responsibility or apologized for, by the way. Ricky makes a mistake, learns from it and does his best to make up for it. EJ makes a mistake and…well, that’s it. He keeps making it, but it’s supposed to be okay because he’s a good guy who’s always trying to do the right thing, even if he doesn’t succeed. & I’m tired of it, honestly.

TLDR: In order for me to root for a couple, they need to have chemistry, the actors need to have comparable acting abilities & I need to sympathize with both characters, to like both of them &/or to find them both interesting (I specified the “&/or” for that last part because I do have a couple ships where I don’t necessarily like one of the characters, but I do feel for them at times & find them interesting/compelling). PW has none of that.

As for the second part of your ask, the old “EJ & Gina’s relationship was great in s2, but the writers ruined everything in s3 by having EJ go back to being selfish and Gina go back to being in love with Ricky.” Ugh. Here’s the issue with that: neither of these factors ever changed. EJ has always been an inconsiderate & insecure boyfriend and Gina has been in love with Ricky this whole time. Neither of them went “back” to being anything, they just never left. EJ had all the same negative qualities in his relationship with Gina that he displayed in his relationship with Nini in s1 — jealous, insecure & secretive, with an inability to own up to his own actions & a tendency to blame Ricky for something that was entirely his own doing. That isn’t a sign of character regression. You can't regress if you never learned, never changed, in the first place. PWs only convinced themselves that EJ had changed because he was single for nearly all of s2 and that allowed them to completely forget what he was like in a relationship. Out of sight, out of mind.

 & I don’t know where PWs get the idea that Gina was completely over Ricky once her & EJ got together. She only accepted EJ’s offer of a date after making it clear (at the sleepover) that she thought Ricky was no longer an option, not that she didn’t still harbor feelings for him. There was no closure between them, they never talked about Opening Night and, in order for EJ & Gina to get together, she had to literally not be on speaking terms with Ricky.

Also, about the whole “EJ was so supportive in s2” thing: I’m guessing their idea of “support” is 1. EJ asking how she was one time — even though he didn’t ask because he noticed she was emotional and wanted to check in, he asked as in, “how do you feel about everything you’ve pulled off tonight?” because she had helped plan the entire party and performed that musical number for Carlos in front of everyone. Gina, feeling alone & dejected, took it for more than it was. & 2. EJ bringing Gina that ass granola bar from his back pocket at the airport. Both of these aren’t so much expressions of support as they are the absolute bare minimum, which required little effort on EJ’s part. Like, wow, in the entire time they’ve know each other, he’s asked her about herself twice and picked her up from the airport once — boyfriend goals, am I right?

[tojikai]

Hello Kai! Here’s another excellent update! This time, I’m only going to talk about parts that I feel the most strongly so it might not be as long as my previous ask LOL.

I know I said in your ask box that we were about to feast on Rie’s tears, and we did! But after finishing this update, it feels like a little side treats to me bc what and how Rie thinks about this situation no longer matter. Simply speaking, it’s over. IT’S FUCKING OVER FOR HER. The curtain is lower now, Rie. Time to go bye-bye 😊.

I love how all this time, chapter 6 and chapter 7 are mirrored all the events in chapter 1 to chapter 4, and chapter 7, especially, is where this fucked up love triangle between Satoru, Rie, and Y/N is put to an end.

“He's been in a pinch since the night he kissed Rie, and a week after that, he broke up with you.”

You know, I’m pretty soft for Satoru at this point bc I’m glad that he has finally understood everything and realized the weight and consequences that he has to face for his actions. But whenever I’m reminded of the fact he jumped ship so quickly after meeting Rie, the hater in me surfaces again lol. I can’t say that I have experienced half the things that happened with Y/N, but you were able to put me in her shoes and make me empathize with her bc I know for sure that I wouldn’t let my ex return to me that easily if this was how fast he left me. But since Satoru has actually realized how impulsive he was, I want to believe that this Satoru we have now is very different from the one 2 months ago bc the emotional rollercoaster he experienced must surely rewire his brain and knock him down a peg lol.

"We need to talk, Rie." Hearing her boyfriend says her name made the movements of her hand pause. She looked at him with her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes filled with worry and shock. He rarely calls her by her name.

Okay, so this is where the breakup scene starts.

Once again, a bit off-topic but I find it interesting that Satoru only calls his girlfriend by nicknames and not their real name. At the same time, maybe I’m just used to consuming Japanese media but I find the use of real names, especially first names, feels much more intimate. Then again, I can see why using someone’s real name (full name especially) can make the person using it feel much more serious than they usually are. Just a thought.

This time, Satoru and Rie's breakup is parallel to the one he had with Y/N.

She's heard him speak your name a couple of times, but that's something that she'll always be ready to push aside and forget.

Unlike Y/N who got dumped without any warning whatsoever, Rie, subconsciously, already saw the signs of the end but she willingly ignored it to give into this false hope that she and Satoru would “get through” this even though what they have is nothing compared to a 5-years bond. Despite my general animosity for her, Rie is so pitiful at this point. People lie to others all the time but I think nothing is sadder than seeing someone lying to themselves. It’s pathetic yet miserable to witness that.

Also, what makes this breakup different from Y/N’s is that Satoru actually confesses his wrongdoing. For Y/N, it feels horrible bc it likes he didn’t care enough about her feeling to be upfront to her, but I think it’s rather the opposite here. Like I said before, I think he was trying to protect her and preserve their bond by not telling the truth. He clearly values his relationship with Y/N much more than with Rie, evidently with how he didn’t have much problem revealing the cheating to the latter. Why is that? That’s because he actually knows what he wants now and he wants to end things for real this time. So as much as it’s hard to believe, Satoru did grow because I don’t think past him is capable of this.

"Why?" Her voice came out as a whisper as she looked down, mouth twitching as she tried to hold back her cries. "Why did you suddenly want her again, Satoru?"

"I…We had sex."

I chuckled at this part, not because I find pleasure in it or whatever, but it’s because the way he says it is so horrible, awkward, and frankly, hilarious. It can’t get any more embarrassing than this. In the end, lying to herself cost Rie so many things. What I find different about Rie and Y/N's situation after the breakup is that, unlike Y/N who has Shoko and Suguru, Rie has no one to turn to after this. She’s not only bitchless, but she’s also friendless. Of course, I don’t feel bad for her because she brought this to herself and I’m sure she knows it very well, but I can see why she was so desperate to keep Satoru no matter how much others suffer for it.

Wow, the confrontation between Rie and Y/N went off without a hitch. It was so peaceful and I’m happy that it turned out like that. I don’t want these two to fight for Hoejo's pathetic ass anymore. I have enough of that in the initial chapters.

I’m kinda relief to see Suguru and Shoko not being mad at Y/N as much as I thought. It’s understandable why Shoko is more pissed but Suguru? Man, all hail Kai for giving us this sexy man WOOF WOOF. He was so ready to fight for Y/N’s honor ADLASDKSLKAASKDILOVEHIMSM!!!! And the pool scene??? I was so giddy reading that part. Want to drown myself just so he can save me LMFAOSDLSKJDASDADKASJ. And Nanami??? Sneaky, aren’t we? Hehehehe. But I guess this is as much as we can get from Mr. Nanami, being his coworker and all, unless….

Okay, but seriously, in Y/N’s first scene with Suguru, as much as this will break Suguru x Y/N shippers’ hearts, I don’t think they will end up with each other because on Y/N part, she only sees him as a very close friend and hell, she still thinks about Satoru at the end of it. Y/N is in a better state of mind now so even if Suguru makes a move on her, I doubt she would accept it. Her heart is still with someone else ☹. And what she wants the most right now is stability, not a relationship.

Unfortunately, God (Kai) decided that she can’t catch a break just yet because... TADAH! A FUCKING BABY is waiting for her ahead. Like, I have never thought about pregnancy and shit bc it feels a bit cliché for this fic but damn, I didn’t think you would actually use it ADLSDKADALKSDJSD. I mean, of course, of course, how can Satoru redeem himself in the last two chaps and an epilogue if this didn’t happen? I feel baffled but mostly, I am amused. I feel a bit bad for Y/N though because she thought peace had come at last but then BAM! B.A.B.Y. Hoje-to-Dadjo redemption arc is it then. Okay, honestly, I’m so weak for Dadjo. My all-time favorite JJK fics are always Satoru being a dad. You’re so dirty for hitting me with this. And I can’t help but love it even though I still think Satoru needs to grieve more, just saying.

I also like that you made Satoru want to get back to Y/N on his own accord first and not because she’s pregnant or some shit like that. Now that she may be pregnant, he has more of a reason to get closer to her now and I have no doubt that once he catches wind of it, he will cling to Y/N even more. This is either a good or a bad thing, depending on how you feel about him lol. I also see that many are not pleased with Y/N’s possible pregnancy and honestly, I think it’s perfect, only because it may address her massive issue with her neglectful parents. You said Y/N always wanted kids so there’s no way she will get rid of the baby,… I think. She will probably keep it and unlike her shitty parents, she will be a good mother to it. I just think having Satoru’s baby is not as bad as some people imagined it to be because it might have a positive effect on both Y/N’s and Satoru’s growth as a character. Y/N can learn to deal with her mommy and daddy issues while Satoru can learn to be more mature and a responsible adult. I’m just a sucker for character development, okay? (1/2)

you're so right about his brain being rewired😭 consequence after consequence, like it's a domino effect of what he's done from that night really taught him lessons. And yeah, what Rie (and also Satoru) has been doing all this time is make the rs work. like i mean that's how it's supposed to be but for it to get to the point where one would make excuses for things like calling the ex partner's name in their sleep? that's just really sad. tbh, that's just desperation. that's where their desperation shows. they want to be the perfect new couple so much that they try to downplay things that could never be and should never be downplayed, truly pitiful :(( Rie thought satoru could give her the love and affection that she has beenn craving for so long, it made her do and say things that a decent person wouldn't. in the end, it all backlashed. That's why during their confrontation, rie couldnt really get angry. she sees it as karma finally catching up to her. Shoko really got one nerve popping on her forehead that time, she just cant take it all out on yn bc of how it all happened and Suguru, i enjoyed writing his scenes so much😩 and nanami, ofc he's got a role to play too !! just not like Suguru's but kinda LMAO i cant explain it. and suguru and yn's first scene, yeah it's sad. she's really infatuated by suguru but she can't help but connect everything to satoru. As for pregnancy, it's really cliche. esp. as traps which im not so fond of LMAO so i dont really plan on using it like that :>

[5sosxqueen]

Ashton Sick From Stress

~Part 1~ , Part 2 >

What is this? 😅 Sometimes, I wonder what was going through my mind while I was writing these stories back then.

Warnings: Minor depictions of illness, migraines

Written in 2018

Published (Wattpad) - Jan 29, 2018

Word Count: 1511

Updates are every Tuesday and Thursday

Also Available on Wattpad and AO3!!!

Part 1:

Ashton's POV:

     For the past couple of months of our tour we have been busy almost nonstop. We have had constant meetings, signings, sound checks, rehearsals, recording sessions, interviews, anything you name we've had to do in the past 2 months. Our band is seriously exhausted. We are all stressed to the max. So when I woke up this morning to achy muscles I wasn't too surprised, as we had a concert last night, but even still I don't normally get this achy and stiff from a concert. Practically all of my muscles were really tight and stiff.

     We have a couple days off and we are at a hotel for a week so, thankfully, I can rest. I was brought out of my thoughts when Calum said "Hey guys I'm going to head down to the gym. Anyone care to join me?" After he said that my mind instantly was in a warm, bubbly, Jacuzzi that was waiting for me downstairs.

     "I'll go! I need a bit of exercise once in a while." Michael said jumping off the couch in our room.

     "Same here. I'll meet you guys there." Luke had just gotten up so he wanted to eat something and brush his teeth.

     "Ash?" Michael's voice bringing me out of my happy trance.

     "Huh? Oh sorry. I think I'm going to relax in the jacuzzi for a bit... I'm really achy from last night." Of course they didn't think anything of it since being the drummer is the most strenuous job in the band. At least that's how I often feel, this being one of those times.

     Michael and Calum went ahead while I got my swim trunks on and grabbed my water bottle, and a towel. This hotel was really nice the swimming pool and jacuzzi are inside, so I didn't have to worry about sunglasses or sunscreen. The only downside of this hotel is that there are no elevators, that we have seen anyways. It only has two floor though so it's not so bad. I started the climb dome the stairs and I noticed not even a full flight down I became very short winded. Again odd, but nothing serious... Hopefully. If I ended up needing, anything the guys are just a 10 step walk from the jacuzzi so I wouldn't have had very far to go.

     By the time I reached it I felt strangely exhausted. A little relaxing did me good though. All of the achy and tense muscles I had we're gone, thankfully and I had only spent a total of 20 minutes in there.

     When I got out I looked in the weight room and noticed that Luke joined Cal and Michael at some point. Although I felt a bit better, I started to notice some pain in my chest and with the breathing problem I was experiencing 30 minutes prior, I didn't want to risk walking back to our hotel room alone. I was starting to also get quite shaky and a tad wobbly on my feet. 'Ya I need help...' "Michael... C-can you help me g-get back to the r-room?" 'That's odd why am I stuttering?' I questioned myself. I wasn't expecting that at all. I knew I was shaking.

     "Uh, sure. Are you alright Ashton? I did notice the stuttering- Whoa!" I suddenly fell and felt arms around me. "Ya... I'll take that as a no... Of course I'll help you out buddy. You need to lay down anyways, by the looks of it." Michael quickly picked me up and went up the status back into our room. He wasted no time in laying me down onto one of the beds. "So what's going on exactly? I know you mentioned something earlier about being sore. Do you think you are getting sick?" Michael kind of rambled.

     "I'm not sure. Probably... If I'm being honest, the Jacuzzi did help the aches and tightness in my muscles, but as soon as I got out I noticed I was shaky and having some chest pains." I watched as pure terror etched it way onto Michael's face.

     "Ashton.... Anything else?" He asked.

     "I was having shortness of breath when I was going down the stairs. That was one of the reasons I wanted your help." I addmited, only succeeding in making his worry skyrocket all the more. "... And I'm starting to get a fucking headache on top of everything... Fucking hell man." I exclaimed suddenly forcing myself into a sitting position with a hand on my head.

     "Ashton, I really don't like these symptoms... Maybe we should take you to a doctor." He started to pull out his phone to call the others and let them know what's going on, but I stopped him.

     "No! I'm going to try taking a nap and we will see how I feel when I wake up. If I am any worse we will go." He agreed to the plan. "Could you, maybe, make me something small to eat? That could be adding onto, or even causing all of this."

     "Sure. I'll also bring back some meds for you. I don't fully know what to give you though." He said, somewhat sadly.

     "Just get me something for my head. I'm not feeling sick or anything so it shouldn't be the flu." He nodded and felt my forehead to see if there was any warmth. I quickly reminded him that I was just in a hot Jacuzzi and that could really alter a body temp.

     "That's true... Now I will be back. Try not to fall asleep just yet Ash." I nodded tiredly. Even sitting up and leaning against the headboard my eyes felt really heavy. I was fighting to stay awake.

Michael's POV:

     'I am really worried about Ash. Chest pains aren't something to fuck around with and he should know that. He asked me to leave it alone for now and I will try my best.' There were plenty of times that I found myself contemplating calling Luke and Calum, but I ultimately decided against it. I finished putting together some Bacon and eggs in the kitchenette we had and swiftly brought over to Ash. "Oh Ash.." I muttered under my breath upon noticing his long deep breaths. He fell asleep. I set the plate of food down and gently shook his shoulder. "Ash I have some food for you bud." I watched his eyes open and he winded and grabbed his head. "Sorry. Do you have a migraine now?" He nodded, a tear falling from his hazel eyes. I wiped it away and closed the curtains, before grabbing a couple of my Excedrin migraine meds. "Here Ash. You were only asleep for 20 minutes. I'm shocked you have a migraine now." I whispered so I wouldn't hurt his head again.

     "Ya, me too." Wincing at even his own voice.

     "Will you be ok alone while I go downstairs to let the others know what's going on?" He nodded as he took the plate of food in his hands and began to eat. "Ok I'll be back." I said before turning and walking out of the room. I practically ran down the stairs and into the weight room. "Guys Ash isn't feeling too well."

     "What do you mean? What's going on with him?" Luke asked quickly concerned for his band mate.

     "Ya what's going on Michael. Is he ok?" Calum questioned.

     "Define ok... Ha sorry. When he came in here and got me earlier he ended up falling over. I just managed to catch him, luckily, but he told me that he was having chest pains and shortness of breath, along with the muscle aches from earlier. He had developed a headache and after sleeping for about 20 minutes, it was a migraine. He's eating right now so that's a plus I suppose, but I'm still really worried about him. I tried to get him to agree to go to the doctor, but he denied and said that if, after a nap, he isn't feeling better he will go." I unknowingly rambled on.

     "It could be from stress. We've all had so much on our plate the past couple months, I'm honestly surprised none of us had gotten sick sooner." Luke said. That made a lot of sense. I hadn't thought of that. "But even still, I agree that we should take him to the doctors."

     "So do I. Even if it is just stress, it seems pretty serious, but we will have to wait it out for now and let him sleep. If he thinks it'll help that's in him." Calum stated.

     We all decided to head back to the room. I waited while they grabbed there stuff from the lockers. Once they came out we headed back to the room. I looked to the bad and noticed that Ash had finished his food and fell asleep.

     We all sat down on the couch and watch football on low volume. We chatted amongst ourselves for a while until we heard it...

[publicdomainbooks]

CHAPTER 1

MY UNCLE MAKES A GREAT DISCOVERY

Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures. They were truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think of them.

My uncle was a German, having married my mother's sister, an Englishwoman. Being very much attached to his fatherless nephew, he invited me to study under him in his home in the fatherland. This home was in a large town, and my uncle a professor of philosophy, chemistry, geology, mineralogy, and many other ologies.

One day, after passing some hours in the laboratory—my uncle being absent at the time—I suddenly felt the necessity of renovating the tissues—i.e., I was hungry, and was about to rouse up our old French cook, when my uncle, Professor Von Hardwigg, suddenly opened the street door, and came rushing upstairs.

Now Professor Hardwigg, my worthy uncle, is by no means a bad sort of man; he is, however, choleric and original. To bear with him means to obey; and scarcely had his heavy feet resounded within our joint domicile than he shouted for me to attend upon him.

"Harry—Harry—Harry—"

I hastened to obey, but before I could reach his room, jumping three steps at a time, he was stamping his right foot upon the landing.

"Harry!" he cried, in a frantic tone, "are you coming up?"

Now to tell the truth, at that moment I was far more interested in the question as to what was to constitute our dinner than in any problem of science; to me soup was more interesting than soda, an omelette more tempting than arithmetic, and an artichoke of ten times more value than any amount of asbestos.

But my uncle was not a man to be kept waiting; so adjourning therefore all minor questions, I presented myself before him.

He was a very learned man. Now most persons in this category supply themselves with information, as peddlers do with goods, for the benefit of others, and lay up stores in order to diffuse them abroad for the benefit of society in general. Not so my excellent uncle, Professor Hardwigg; he studied, he consumed the midnight oil, he pored over heavy tomes, and digested huge quartos and folios in order to keep the knowledge acquired to himself.

There was a reason, and it may be regarded as a good one, why my uncle objected to display his learning more than was absolutely necessary: he stammered; and when intent upon explaining the phenomena of the heavens, was apt to find himself at fault, and allude in such a vague way to sun, moon, and stars that few were able to comprehend his meaning. To tell the honest truth, when the right word would not come, it was generally replaced by a very powerful adjective.

In connection with the sciences there are many almost unpronounceable names—names very much resembling those of Welsh villages; and my uncle being very fond of using them, his habit of stammering was not thereby improved. In fact, there were periods in his discourse when he would finally give up and swallow his discomfiture—in a glass of water.

As I said, my uncle, Professor Hardwigg, was a very learned man; and I now add a most kind relative. I was bound to him by the double ties of affection and interest. I took deep interest in all his doings, and hoped some day to be almost as learned myself. It was a rare thing for me to be absent from his lectures. Like him, I preferred mineralogy to all the other sciences. My anxiety was to gain real knowledge of the earth. Geology and mineralogy were to us the sole objects of life, and in connection with these studies many a fair specimen of stone, chalk, or metal did we break with our hammers.

Steel rods, loadstones, glass pipes, and bottles of various acids were oftener before us than our meals. My uncle Hardwigg was once known to classify six hundred different geological specimens by their weight, hardness, fusibility, sound, taste, and smell.

He corresponded with all the great, learned, and scientific men of the age. I was, therefore, in constant communication with, at all events the letters of, Sir Humphry Davy, Captain Franklin, and other great men.

But before I state the subject on which my uncle wished to confer with me, I must say a word about his personal appearance. Alas! my readers will see a very different portrait of him at a future time, after he has gone through the fearful adventures yet to be related.

My uncle was fifty years old; tall, thin, and wiry. Large spectacles hid, to a certain extent, his vast, round, and goggle eyes, while his nose was irreverently compared to a thin file. So much indeed did it resemble that useful article, that a compass was said in his presence to have made considerable N (Nasal) deviation.

The truth being told, however, the only article really attracted to my uncle's nose was tobacco.

Another peculiarity of his was, that he always stepped a yard at a time, clenched his fists as if he were going to hit you, and was, when in one of his peculiar humors, very far from a pleasant companion.

It is further necessary to observe that he lived in a very nice house, in that very nice street, the Konigstrasse at Hamburg. Though lying in the centre of a town, it was perfectly rural in its aspect—half wood, half bricks, with old-fashioned gables—one of the few old houses spared by the great fire of 1842.

When I say a nice house, I mean a handsome house—old, tottering, and not exactly comfortable to English notions: a house a little off the perpendicular and inclined to fall into the neighboring canal; exactly the house for a wandering artist to depict; all the more that you could scarcely see it for ivy and a magnificent old tree which grew over the door.

My uncle was rich; his house was his own property, while he had a considerable private income. To my notion the best part of his possessions was his god-daughter, Gretchen. And the old cook, the young lady, the Professor and I were the sole inhabitants.

I loved mineralogy, I loved geology. To me there was nothing like pebbles—and if my uncle had been in a little less of a fury, we should have been the happiest of families. To prove the excellent Hardwigg's impatience, I solemnly declare that when the flowers in the drawing-room pots began to grow, he rose every morning at four o'clock to make them grow quicker by pulling the leaves!

Having described my uncle, I will now give an account of our interview.

He received me in his study; a perfect museum, containing every natural curiosity that can well be imagined—minerals, however, predominating. Every one was familiar to me, having been catalogued by my own hand. My uncle, apparently oblivious of the fact that he had summoned me to his presence, was absorbed in a book. He was particularly fond of early editions, tall copies, and unique works.

"Wonderful!" he cried, tapping his forehead. "Wonderful—wonderful!"

It was one of those yellow-leaved volumes now rarely found on stalls, and to me it appeared to possess but little value. My uncle, however, was in raptures.

He admired its binding, the clearness of its characters, the ease with which it opened in his hand, and repeated aloud, half a dozen times, that it was very, very old.

To my fancy he was making a great fuss about nothing, but it was not my province to say so. On the contrary, I professed considerable interest in the subject, and asked him what it was about.

"It is the Heims-Kringla of Snorre Tarleson," he said, "the celebrated Icelandic author of the twelfth century—it is a true and correct account of the Norwegian princes who reigned in Iceland."

My next question related to the language in which it was written. I hoped at all events it was translated into German. My uncle was indignant at the very thought, and declared he wouldn't give a penny for a translation. His delight was to have found the original work in the Icelandic tongue, which he declared to be one of the most magnificent and yet simple idioms in the world—while at the same time its grammatical combinations were the most varied known to students.

"About as easy as German?" was my insidious remark.

My uncle shrugged his shoulders.

"The letters at all events," I said, "are rather difficult of comprehension."

"It is a Runic manuscript, the language of the original population of Iceland, invented by Odin himself," cried my uncle, angry at my ignorance.

I was about to venture upon some misplaced joke on the subject, when a small scrap of parchment fell out of the leaves. Like a hungry man snatching at a morsel of bread the Professor seized it. It was about five inches by three and was scrawled over in the most extraordinary fashion.

The lines shown here are an exact facsimile of what was written on the venerable piece of parchment—and have wonderful importance, as they induced my uncle to undertake the most wonderful series of adventures which ever fell to the lot of human beings.

My uncle looked keenly at the document for some moments and then declared that it was Runic. The letters were similar to those in the book, but then what did they mean? This was exactly what I wanted to know.

Now as I had a strong conviction that the Runic alphabet and dialect were simply an invention to mystify poor human nature, I was delighted to find that my uncle knew as much about the matter as I did—which was nothing. At all events the tremulous motion of his fingers made me think so.

"And yet," he muttered to himself, "it is old Icelandic, I am sure of it."

And my uncle ought to have known, for he was a perfect polyglot dictionary in himself. He did not pretend, like a certain learned pundit, to speak the two thousand languages and four thousand idioms made use of in different parts of the globe, but he did know all the more important ones.

It is a matter of great doubt to me now, to what violent measures my uncle's impetuosity might have led him, had not the clock struck two, and our old French cook called out to let us know that dinner was on the table.

"Bother the dinner!" cried my uncle.

But as I was hungry, I sallied forth to the dining room, where I took up my usual quarters. Out of politeness I waited three minutes, but no sign of my uncle, the Professor. I was surprised. He was not usually so blind to the pleasure of a good dinner. It was the acme of German luxury—parsley soup, a ham omelette with sorrel trimmings, an oyster of veal stewed with prunes, delicious fruit, and sparkling Moselle. For the sake of poring over this musty old piece of parchment, my uncle forbore to share our meal. To satisfy my conscience, I ate for both.

The old cook and housekeeper was nearly out of her mind. After taking so much trouble, to find her master not appear at dinner was to her a sad disappointment—which, as she occasionally watched the havoc I was making on the viands, became also alarm. If my uncle were to come to table after all?

Suddenly, just as I had consumed the last apple and drunk the last glass of wine, a terrible voice was heard at no great distance. It was my uncle roaring for me to come to him. I made very nearly one leap of it—so loud, so fierce was his tone.

[altaniadventures]

Prompt #1 Home - Au Ra August 2023

Set after the events of Shadowbringers. If you haven't played up to then, there may be spoilers. It is a little angsty and G'raha centric. The prompt is "home" from Au Ra August 2023!

------

"Will you go home after this?" G'raha asked.

Altani looked over at him laying on the bed next to hers. After the fight with Elidibus, everyone had decided that she needed rest. She had not agreed to this. However, Y'shtola was not above using sorcery to chain her to the bed.

The only good part about it was that G'raha was stuck here too. The memories and the Exarch's soul had been placed into the old him for the most part. The new him? This body was younger. Altani wasn't quite sure how it all worked. Was this her Exarch from the source in his past body, or was this her G'raha with all the memories of the Exarch? She didn't know if she should pick up where they left off in the First, or if it was better to let him go. He could start his life fresh without all the weight. Maybe he didn't even remember their nights in his bedroom, of the fight they'd had. He hadn't said a word, and she wasn't about to beg him to-

"Altani?" he asked again, his ears flicking back as his features slipped into worry.

"No," she replied, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm not going back to the Steppe."

Other than her sister Bayarma, what reason was there to go home? She could do without seeing her mother, and she wasn't never very close to Sarnei and Chimeg. Baya had written a few months ago that even she was thinking of leaving home. The food and the familar places she missed sometimes, but it would never be the same. Things were too different now. She was changed by Eorzea. As much as she loved her homeland, it was no longer her home.

What was home, anyways? Was it the various places she camped across the realm? Was it in the strange towns she'd slept in while waiting to fight some horror? Was it the empty Limsan house where she stored the furniture she never used? The most at home she'd ever felt was in his arms in the Crystarium, but that was a lie. He'd been the Exarch and not G'raha then. He tried to die and take away the little bit of happiness she'd had. They hadn't talked about the fight. It was as if it never happened at all. Most of the time it was easy to pretend that they were just good friends. After all, if they were just good friends, he had a better chance of living. Everyone she loved died.

G'raha watched her intently, a slight frown on his face. He thought for a long moment before rephrasing his original question. "Where will you stay? Y'shtola said that I could stay here until I can get back to Sharlayan. Although I have no hope that my things are still at the annex," he murmured. "She told me you never stay at the rising stones, you're always on the road. I was curious to know if I'd have your company for a time longer."

He didn't have a home. He'd been presumed dead, his body trapped in the Crystal tower. His memories were all jumbled from a hundred years of waiting in a world he wasn't truly a part of. They were the same in that way. Belonging no where and everywhere all at once. There was no other home for them.

"I have a cottage in Limsa," she said suddenly, turning towards him. "Which is probably incredibly dusty by now. It's near the city, just a little boat ride from the docks. It's carved out of one of those tall stones that rise from the water. It's small."

G'raha smiled. "I'm relieved. I-" he hesitated. "Well. Perhaps we'll go on that adventure soon, after you rest and-"

"Come home with me," she interrupted.

"What?" His eyes flicked forward, his eyes wide.

"Come home with me." She reached over, offering her hand out for his. "Don't think about it. Don't say no. Just leave with me. We won't tell anyone where we've gone, and it can just be you and me."

She pleaded with her eyes. We don't have to talk about our problems. We don't have to save the world right now. Come home with me, and let's forget about how you tried to die for me, and let's forget about how angry I am about that.

"Please," she said.

G'raha slowly reached for her hand. "Altani. We can't go without letting people know where we've gone."

Altani snatched her hand back, her expression going cool. "Of course. You're right. We'll talk more later." She rolled over, her back facing him. "I'm tired now. We'll go on an adventure, it'll just be a little more time."

He let his hand slowly fall. "Yes. Just a little more time." He closed his eyes, unsure. He should rest as well. "You and I," he said quietly. He was incredibly tired. Maybe after getting the clear from Y'shtola and Krile, they could both go home together.

When he woke up, she had already left. She wasn't answering any linkshell calls except for Allisae's, who reported she had gone to Ishgard, and not to bother her. G'raha gave a rueful smile. Home would have to wait a while longer yet.

[whyiseverynametakenpls]

I never asked for this

------------------------------------

Genre : yay ( I think )

Tw : swearing

Pairing : Brother! Vox Akuma x male reader ( platonic )

Characters : vox, you, ike

Story : if you don't want to be my brother, then don't.

A/n : REMINDER THE READER IS A CHILD ( about 11 yrs old ), and pretend ike has like a lot of siblings, and read part 1 for more explanation

Vox remained in silence, his head throbbing with the aftermath of the argument. One part of him urged him to rise, seek you out, and extend an apology. Yet, another part kept him rooted in place, resisting the admission of his own wrongdoing.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled brown-haired man, clutching a book with a hint of panic in his eyes.

His voice carried an air of urgency as he asked Vox about a missing quill. Vox's mind sparked with an idea, causing a wide, somewhat peculiar smile to spread across his face.

Perplexed, the brown-haired man questioned Vox's expression, anticipating an unusual response. Vox, however, seized the opportunity to divert the conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He questioned, expecting something weird in response.

“Hey Ike, you have siblings, right?” Vox asked.

Ike nodded slowly in response. Vox clapped his hand in approval.

“Okay, so here’s the problem – my brother got mad at me for not spending time with him, and I kind of blew up… And now I need you to cheer him up!” He says unbothered by the weird look he was getting from Ike.

“Wait, wait, no – go back. You said that he got mad at YOU for not spending time with HIM. And now you want ME to go cheer him up instead of YOU?” Ike looks at Vox.

“Yep!” Vox enthusiastically says.

“Uh, no. That’s not going to work, Vox the problem is that YOU’RE the one not paying attention to him. If he knew that you sent me there, wouldn’t he be madder?” Ike explains

“Well yeah, but I don’t know how to cheer people up, you know? And you have siblings, so you have experience!” Vox replies

“I- Vox that’s not how this works…” Once again, Ike refuses.

“Ah, just do it! I’ll help you find your quill too.” Vox begs.

Ike stood in front of Vox’s desk, hesitating. But giving in eventually. “All right, I’ll do it, but don’t blame me if he gets even more mad at you.”

Vox's face lit up with gratitude, assuring Ike that he wouldn't hold him responsible for the outcome.

-----------------✧------------------

"(Name)?" A gentle voice called out.

But it wasn't your brother's voice—it was Ike, the son of the Duke. He was always gentle with you. Unlike your brother, or who you thought was your brother anyway.

“Ike...” You mumble.

Slowly, Ike approached you, his presence exuding comfort. With tender care, he enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you tightly as tears streamed down your face.

The genuine concern in his eyes surprised him, and yet, it only intensified the depth of his emotions.

As your tears fell, mingling with the sadness etched on Ike's face, you found solace in his presence. It was as if the weight of your burdens could be shared, if only for a fleeting moment.

The words you had held within you for years spilled forth, carried on a current of raw honesty.

"He can't even make time for me. And now, you're the one here. He sent you, didn't he?" you whispered, your voice quivering with a mixture of disappointment and resignation.

Ike's nod, though confirming your suspicion, couldn't erase the empathy that radiated from him.

At that moment, your heart shattered further, confronted by the harsh reality of your situation. Gripping onto Ike as if he were your lifeline, you sought comfort and security in his embrace.

Ike held you steadfastly until the heaviness of your emotions gave way to exhaustion. Tenderly, he guided you to your bed, carefully tucking you in as if guarding you against the world's woes.

As you drifted into sleep, he released a weary sigh, burdened by the weight of the task that lay before him.

-----------------✧------------------

The following day, you awoke in your bed, your mind filled with fragments of the previous night's emotions and conversations. As you sat up, a newfound determination coursed through your veins, propelling you towards your brother's room.

With purposeful strides, you approached the door and swung it open, revealing the sight of your brother within. Without hesitation, you walked over to him and crossed your hands.

“If you didn’t want to be my brother, you could have just told me. No need to ask someone else to play your role.” You sharply commented.

“What?” Vox asked.

“You sent Ike, didn’t you? Yeah, I know. Next time, instead of playing the nice brother, just leave me alone. Do you know how hurt I was? My brother, my ONLY brother didn’t even bat an eye on me. Instead, YOU sent SOMEONE ELSE to comfort me. Knowing well what the problem was. You know what? Maybe you shouldn’t be my brother after all.” You continued.

“No, that’s not what I-“ He was cut off.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, I gave you so many chances, yet not one time did you use them! Vox, I waited 6 years. SIX YEARS. AND NOT ONE OF YOU HAS TRIED IN ANY WAY TO SPEND TIME WITH ME.” You retorted.

“No, no, (Name), wait,” He said, before you ran off.

-----------------✧------------------

"You really fucked up this time, huh?" Ike's voice sliced through the tense silence, punctuating the weight of the situation that had unfolded before them.

He couldn't resist adding, "Told you it wouldn't work."

Vox released a heavy sigh, his mind swirling with a mix of regret and uncertainty. He felt at a loss, unsure of the next course of action to repair the damage caused.

But Ike's words resonated, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Vox swallowed the lump in his throat and mustered the resolve to face the consequences of his actions.

With a determined stride, he made his way toward the door, bracing himself for the difficult conversation that awaited him.

-----------------✧------------------

Vox took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before softly knocking on your door. He heard a muffled response from inside, giving him permission to enter.

He pushed open the door and found you sitting on the edge of your bed, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

You looked up, your gaze filled with a mix of anger and sadness. Vox could sense the intensity of your emotions, and he prepared himself for what was to come.

He cautiously approached you, bracing himself for your reaction.

"What is it now?" you exclaimed, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and hurt. "Are you going to laugh at me?"

Vox flinched slightly at your words, his expression reflecting the weight of his actions. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, understanding the pain he had caused.

"I know, I messed up, and I deserve your anger," Vox admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "I should have been there for you, and I'm sorry for failing you as a brother."

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to contain your emotions. In a moment of frustration, you reached out and lightly struck Vox's chest, a mix of anger and longing in your touch.

"You were supposed to be there for me! We're family, are we not…?" you cried out, your voice cracking with emotion. "I needed you, and you were nowhere to be found."

You made another light hit to his chest, your fist connecting with a soft impact against his body. Again, again, and again, each strike carries a mix of anger and sorrow. But Vox didn't flinch, instead, he held you even tighter in his embrace.

"You can punch me all you want," Vox said, his voice unwavering despite the physical blows. "But what I want to say is that I can't undo the past, but I want to make it right."

The weight of his words, coupled with his calm demeanor, began to quell the storm of emotions raging within you. The anger that fueled your strikes began to fade, replaced by a yearning for understanding and resolution.

"Why did you ignore me?" you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "I needed you, and you weren't there."

Vox's grip on you tightened ever so slightly as if to convey his remorse and acknowledgment of his shortcomings. His voice carried a mix of regret and determination as he responded.

"I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me," Vox replied, his tone filled with sincerity. "I was caught up in my own world, my own responsibilities, and I lost sight of what truly matters. But I promise you, (Name), I will do everything in my power to make it right."

The force behind your strikes began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of vulnerability and a flicker of hope.

You released your clenched fists and allowed yourself to sink into Vox's embrace, seeking solace and understanding.

"You better mean it," you whispered, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "I don't like empty promises."

Vox nodded; his gaze unwavering. "I do mean it. I understand that trust needs to be earned, and I'm willing to work for it. I want to rebuild our bond, to be the brother you can rely on."

A mix of emotions washed over you as you took in Vox's words. Your anger started to dissipate, giving way to a longing for connection and understanding. Slowly, you reached out and embraced Vox, holding onto him tightly as tears continued to stream down your face.

"I hope you're serious," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. "Because I don't want to feel this way anymore. I want us to be there for each other."

Vox returned the embrace, his arms encircling you in a gentle yet firm hold. He rested his chin on the top of your head, his voice filled with sincerity.

"I'm serious, (Name). I'll do whatever it takes to regain your trust and be the brother you deserve," Vox vowed, his voice filled with determination.

---------------------------------------------------

<- MASTERLIST

<- first part

-> sibling angst my love 😍

[fearbruary2022]

Gephyrophobia

(Gephyrophobia is the irrational fear of walking across or going through bridges and tunnels. Many manifestations of this fear can be caused by a single breeze rocking the bridge, the roof collapsing in the tunnel, or even collapsing by your weight.)

The classes of 1-A and 1-B were once again training together and they were heading towards their training camp before the real fun began. The location was so remote that the only way to get there was by foot and cross a ravine about midway.

They just arrived at the bridge to pass that ravine and everyone either whistled or gasped at the drop. It was so deep and no one was able to gauge it as the mist was covering the ground below. It looked more like an endless chasm than a simple ravine.

“H-hehe, look at that.” Kirishima shuddered. “There is no way to tell how deep this ravine is.”

That statement sent an involuntary shiver down Tetsutesu’s spine. The height he had no problem with, as his Quirk would most likely protect him from death, however, the bridge itself was the one that was sending him warning signals.

The bridge looked fairly new, with unmarked wood planks, not a fiber shredded along the edges of the ropes, yet why did he feel like he was going to die if he even took a single step?

“...Tetsu?...Hey Tetsutetsu!”

“Huh?” The silver-haired teen jolted and looked across his fellow brother-rival. Kirishima was looking at him with a slight worry. 

“You spaced out for quite some time bro, you ok?” Kirishima asked, now noticing that Tetsutetsu was shaking as if he was cold or feverish. Something did not feel right to the redhead. “You are usually talkative.”

“I-I’m fine, I was just thinking if there might be another way to get to the training ground. Something more manly!” The silverette said with a smile, but a few others in the group noticed that he was nervous about something.

“Tetsutetsu, I am disappointed by my fellow classmate.” Monoma said and started to walk towards him. “Are you by chance afraid of that little old bridge there, how pathetic.”

Tetsutetsu growled and Kirishima glared at the laughing sociopath before he got grabbed by a large hand and yeeted across the ravine by their class rep. “Damn Monoma, I am sure he’s going to feel that in the morning.” She replied before looking at her classmate. “Are you sure you are ok? You are looking rather pale.”

The silverette tried again to put up a front but eventually, he looked defeated. “I-how am I able to explain this…it’s like when I look at the bridge I feel like something bad would happen.”

That caught some attention, especially Izuku and their teachers. “Is it like no matter how you think, you feel a sense of dread? Like the bridge will fail?”

Tetsutetsu nodded, “Exactly, it keeps giving me thoughts of the wind snapping one side of the bridge, or my weight will make it collapse and fall to our doom, even though I can see that it is well maintained…” 

He shuddered again and his mind's-eye suddenly made the bridge longer, making it look farther than it should. Everything began to feel much colder and his chest felt heavier like something was sitting on his chest. His legs then started to feel numb and cold, like they were submerged in ice and a second later he felt like they were jelly.

The unsteadiness of his legs made it even worse, as he now felt like he was on that damn bridge itself. His breathing picked up the pace as these symptoms were overstimulating him, fiercely producing more images of bridges collapsing from under him. Am I going to die here!?

Izuku immediately picked up the symptoms. “Kirishima, get him away from the ravine. We need to separate him from the trigger.”

Kirishima nodded and gently grabbed hold of the other’s forearm while Kendo held the other and slowly pulled him away from the bridge, barely making it in time as his legs finally gave out on him. Momo produced a cooling cloth and poured water over it to put it over the silverette’s eyes once they had got them settled. 

Several moments had passed as they watched their friend slowly recover from the ordeal. Izuku was keeping tabs on the symptoms and he determined that Tetsutetsu suffered from Gephyrophobia, and bad. The verdanette needed to help him cross the bridge but for now, help him calm down.

“I-I’m pathetic…How can I be a Hero if I’m afraid of a bridge. This is not manly.”

“Don’t think like that bro, everybody has fears.” Kirishima said right next to him, letting him know that it is ok. “It happens.”

“How am I going to the training ground then? I c-can’t cross that bridge right now…” The silverette said, looking down in frustration. He then felt a tap on the shoulder.

“We may have a solution Tetsutetsu,” Izuku said with a smile. “From what I see you are uncomfortable with bridges so the next suggestion is floating.”

“Floating?”

“Hm. Uraraka will use her Quirk on you so you can levitate and Kirishima will walk across the bridge with you and Uraraka. You will be tied to a rope so you won’t float away.” Tetsutetsu looked unsure. “We would also recommend blindfolding you so you won’t see the bridge or look down.”

“Another option is also straightforward is to have Uraraka levitate you then push you across the ravine until you reach the other side and she can release her Quirk then.”

“N-no. Normally I would choose the latter but right now…I don’t think I can handle it alone.”

Izuku nodded and after another 30 minutes of the silverette getting himself ready, they proceeded with the first option. A few times Tetsutetsu grumbled in discomfort, but overall he never felt the sensation of being on the demon bridge. In fact, it mostly felt like he was floating on water, and that made his mind more at ease. Once everyone else crossed the bridge they headed to the camp where they found Monoma, waving hi with bruises, cuts, black eyes, and a chipped tooth. Right next to him was a tree with his body print against it.

[hexdsl]

Dune (By Frank Herbert)

Book: Dune Series: Dune (Series 1) Written by: Frank Herbert

As much as this is out of character for me I am going to try and keep this brief. The reason is that there is no way anyone hasn't heard of this book and most people who give a shit will have already read it, or bounced on it already.

I tried to read Dune once before, in the late 90's. I hated it. It was verbose and complex and didn't at all feel like actual science fiction. I had a friend who loved it but I simply couldn't take to it.

I stopped maybe a quarter of the way in and didn't really give it much more thought. Oddly, I did enjoy the 1984 movie, even though it was hot, insane garbage. I just like hot garbage; make of that what you will. Its a glorious mess and I love it!

Recently I saw the new 2021 Dune movie and LOVED it. I was blown away by how good it was and resolved to read the book finally. I started the same evening.

A week or so later I'm done. What a ride. The book is wonderful! It in no small way inspired many things I love and I now realise that it had quite a real impact on all the science fiction that followed.

What is it?

For the few who don't know, Dune is a story of empire and power, of legend and hope. It's got complex characters and it all revolves around a sand covered planet and a rare spice that allows the human mind to go beyond its limits.

It is at this point somewhat legendary in its influence.

The Good.

Okay so Dune is good. Its really good but the things that stuck out at me at especially good were the following.

Setting: The setting of the most boring place imaginable being used to birth a complex and interesting story was great. I feel like it was something of a shortcut too. Just say 'sand' and no one needs that explaining. But then explaining how and what it means to live in such a place and how the oppression of the world its self is a constant problem. Its just interesting as soon as the exposition started I was hooked.

Characters: At the start of the book there are characters who are fascinating and deep, instantly likable and complex. The villain has a motivation that takes time to understand. While the enemy is obviously bad its a cultural issue and its superbly done.

Culture: Speaking of cultural issues. The culture of space-feudalism is just wonderful and is not over-played at all in the book. It's a backdrop that I adored and made perfect sense within this story.

Lore: There simply isn't a book out there that does lore as well as Dune. It is complex and understated and done in a way that peppers the reader with ideas. It then frames those ideas with context. You get an impression of wider story without actually having to be told about it. masterful!

The Bad

It's not all perfect. There are some issues and some things that could have been better. That said, his is a point of view an a preference thing. He reality is that this book has lasted the test of time and is still considered to be a work of genius. My opinions of whats wrong with it are just that.

Pacing: Dune is a science fiction work that is paced like a fantasy novel most the time but then suddenly its paced like a political thriller for a bit. It has a massive slow patch in the middle then suddenly gets real fast. Its like a roller-coaster. It would have been better as a slow drive down a nice hill.

Women: Dune has a good amount of strong women. Like many science fiction stories of the era though those strong women are all generically strong. They are somewhat modular and could be swapped around without you noticing. Its actually sad because its SO close to being well done. It just fails at the last hurdle.

Complexity: I loved how complex it was. It's wonderful and has too many moving parts. Even though I'm someone who basks in this kind of narrative, even I felt like there were too parts to keep track of. It almost crumbles under its own weight and I think a lot of it wasn't really required.

Who; what; why; when?: There are great portions of the book where some characters are missing completely. It feel like they were forgotten about and then remembered later and Frank went "They were busy!" and moved on. It actually annoyed me a great deal.

11th hour character creation: Our hero has a son at one point, we never see the lad. He is spoken about without ever appearing directly. He has a sister who appears and is forgotten, then is a big deal at the then in a scene that feels oddly shoehorned. Do no introduce characters who are not 100% required. Especially when your story is already this complex!

Princess who?: Each chapter is headed by notes from the princess Irulan. Who appears in the book for one scene at the end. I know what mr Herbert was doing. He was using it as lore-pepper in the same way the Encyclopedia Galactica was in Asimov's Foundation. I wanted more from the princess. He was actually interesting and intelligent sounding. But so abstracted that I couldn't care.

Overall.

Honestly overall I really enjoyed it. Despite its issues is something that is uniquely its-self. While many have copied and followed it since its release, it is a work that stands alone and does so with the same pride it is written with. Dune is oddly regal in its form and execution in a way that matches its topic. I liked that.