#steves depression joggers

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 18

Good Luck Charm

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Endgame

Word Count: 9,856

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Your slippers shuffled against the ground as you stepped outside onto the porch. With a big blanket around your shoulders and a warm mug in each hand, you walked up to Steve who had been sitting on the love seat all by himself for about half an hour now.

His eyes were fixed on the wooden deck railing, but fondly found your face as you approached in all your comfortable glory.

"A hot latte for the hottie?" You said, handing him a mug of foamy, vanilla goodness.

His smile spread as fast as his cheeks blushed. "Thank you, baby doll."

"Anything for you."

After his gentle hands grabbed the mug from yours, you set your own coffee down for a moment sit next to him and wrap the blanket around both of your shoulders. He was quick to eat up your company, and shuffle closer to you for warmth.

It was that weird time of year where mornings and nights were cold, but midday was blazing. You were well equipped with leggings and a hoodie with thick warm socks that Steve was quite jealous of, while he was in a T-shirt and joggers. But your blanket, body heat, and the hot coffee warmed his body and his heart.

It had been a few days since half of humanity returned, and you were trying to find a good balance of giving him the space he needed to process the events and grieve his friends, time to reconnect with Bucky, all while trying to make sure you were there for him.

As of now it looked like cuddles and long conversations before bed, you sneaking off and working from 4 in the morning to around 2 in the afternoon, then coming home usually to an empty house since the two boys were out doing whatever Steve's and Bucky's do, then the three of you would have dinner together and you'd be back off to bed.

But today was different. You decided not to work at the bakery today because you knew Bucky was going to go tour apartments near by to see if maybe there was a place worth staying near his best friend for, and Steve would be on his own otherwise. Though he was perfectly capable of getting through a hard time on his own, it was always easier when the two of you were together.

With you settled next to him, his eyes fixed right back to where they were before. You thought he was looking out into the neighborhood, until your eyes caught glimpse of a tiny little creature. A spider spinning a web. Not just any spider, but an all black spider with a small red shape on its back.

A black widow.

You immediately understood where his brain was and what it was thinking about, you didn't even have to exchange words when he knew you saw it too. Together you just sat, sipped, and thought about your dear friend. But the more you thought, the more your heart hurt for Steve, so your mug was sat on the floor once again so you could wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him closer.

Your actions made him grin, and his hand found your thigh. It squeezed in appreciation.

"Way back when we fought Ultron, we all thought for a brief moment that all of us would die in Sokovia. When I brought up that possibility, all she said was that she would never find a prettier view anywhere else than being that high up in the sky." He finally broke the silence. "I was admittedly a little scared, and she was calm as could be. Using her skills to make a positive difference in the world was all she thought she had. She was okay with dying as long as it was at the hands of the greater good."

You nodded, acknowledging that you were listening but understanding he probably wasn't looking for a response yet.

"Clint told us she seemed completely at peace with her decision, like there was no second question. She knew that's what she wanted. She died for the greater good. I've always been scared of dying in battle for any reason. I made peace with it, I accepted that it could happen, but I was always scared that it would. I know that's not what I want."

Now, you knew what this conversation was about. This is what's been looming over his head for months, the moment you knew was coming.

He finally said it.

"That's how I know I can't do this anymore." His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

Usually, those words coming from a lovers mouth were the worst words anyone could hear. But in this context, you were happy for him.

"I know you can't." You nodded with a sympathetic tone.

"You're not even going to ask me to clarify?" Steve questioned.

"I already know. I've always known." Your small, delicate smile brought him comfort. "Since the moment I found out that you were Captain America I've known two things to be true. The first one being that there was nothing you could do to scare me away, and the second being that your time in the suit was coming to an end."

"Seems like that came easier to you than it did to me." Steve noted, feeling lighter now that he's told you. "It's been looming over me for years, and it wasn't a choice I made lightly."

"Of course it wasn't." You agreed. "I've watched you quietly struggle with this since the day we met. All I've ever wanted for you was to find happiness."

"I had a sense of guilt giving it up, like people would die if I didn't keep doing this, but I know now that the truth is there was a time before me and there will be a time after me in which everyone manages just fine." He continued. "I've been at this for far longer than I think anyone expected, and I know it's time to pass the shield."

"I'm happy for you." You stated, your hand now playing with the hair on the back of his head. "I genuinely am. And I'm proud of you. I can't imagine any of your life has been easy, and choosing to try a new path that leads to an easier, more peaceful life is exactly what you've always deserved."

"I just want you to know I wouldn't have made this choice of it stopped me from taking care of us at any point." Steve stressed. "Our life together is now number one with no set backs. Please take this in the most humble and sincere way I could possibly say this, but a lack of income going forward is not anything we need to be concerned about. We're set, and any future kids we could possibly want are set."

You smiled at his words. "Honey, even if you had less than a dollar to your name, I'd still want you to make this choice. I also mean this very sincerely and humbly, but the bakery is doing really well. I would've been happy to make you a stay at home Dad."

"So this is it." Steve shrugged. "I'll go on one more mission to put the stones back exactly where they need to be, pass the shield over to Sam and be done. The last few days of being Captain America, then it'll be the first days of the rest of our lives."

"I've always thought Steve was cooler than Cap, by the way." You grinned, head landing on his shoulder.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." Steve giggled, snuggling further next to you. "Thank you for all of your support. It means a lot to me. You've put up with a lot to accommodate what I do. None of it when by without appreciation."

"You do a lot to support me too, at this point, I think the bakery would fall apart without you and all the little things you do for us. They add up, and it makes a massive impact on the way everyone functions and business flows." You reminded him. "We're a team, Love. I'll always have your back and I know you always have mine. I can't wait to see what this next chapter looks like for us."

"I don't think I could properly express how excited I am about it right now amidst all of this chaos, but if I think about it for too long I'll cry." Steve giggled.

"It's okay, I believe you." You smiled.

"And now that the ball is rolling on the bakery in New York, I just feel really hopeful that I'll be busy regardless of the fact that I'm unemployed now."

You laughed as you moved your arm down to hold his hand instead. "I think a life with me is a life with the bakeries. I don't think that's considered unemployment."

"Can I apply for a job at Nice to be Kneaded?" Steve joked. "It'll keep me busy."

"Sure thing, I'll forward you the email you can send in your resume and fill out an application."

"Ugh I'm never gonna get the job." Steve pouted.

"Why not?"

"I haven't updated my resume since 1942, and there's a 66 year gap." He explained. "And the owner of the bakery is so beautiful, I'm going to be fumbling over my words the entire interview!"

Your smile widened, as did the swell of your heart. "I actually know her, I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you, Sunflower, that would be great." He smiled and squeezed your hand.

"...Stevie?" You questioned softly.

"Hmm?"

"We don't have to kill it, but that spider can't stay there."

Steve chuckled at your words. "It is pretty terrifying, isn't it?"

"Does Captain America protect people against scary venomous spiders?"

"Oh... did you not just hear the whole 'I'm retiring' part of the conversation?" Steve joked.

"Okay... will my big, strong boyfriend protect me against the scary venomous spider?"

"...but.... I'm scared of spiders" his voice jumped up an octave or two, and lowered in volume earning your giggles.

"Maybe we can just burn the house down?" You suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that." Steve agreed with a big smile. "Or we can relocate it together"

"Awwww!" You cooed unenthusiastically. "How about we wait for Bucky to get back and he can help us?"

"That's the best idea yet"

"At least you have a big, strong boyfriend that'll relocate scary spiders for you!" You jokingly enthused.

Steve's jaw dropped, but his smile and giggles prevailed through his feigned display of betrayal. "You know what?! That spider is gonna come bite you!"

"Not under Bucky's watch, it won't" You laughed.

"It's gonna come all the way over here and crawl aaaalllllllllll the way up your arm" With his middle and index fingers, they climbed up your arm with a feathery light touch as to tickle you on purpose. Your laugh was music to his ears as his hand made it to your neck, then he started tickling right at the base of your shoulder on purpose. "And it's gonna bite you right here for being so mean to me!"

As if it was the most contagious disease known to man, your happiness and laughter seeped into his heart and soul, and just being near you had him feeling the same way. Faster than he could process, you were both laughing as he one-handedly tried to fight off your attempts at giving him spider bites through the tiniest, gentlest pinches he's ever felt in his life.

The two of you were too occupied in each others chaos to notice Georgia walking across the street for a chat. Admittedly, she also got lost in the scene happening in front of her.

Your arms flying at Steve as uncontrollable laughter and smiles flew past each other, Steve trying to block your swift hands with only one of his arms. Then, his mug slipped out of his other hand and splashed coffee all over his lap, onto the blanket, and the mug shattered onto the deck.

For a moment, Georgia recoiled, fully prepared to walk away when Steve inevitably got angry at you for the the loss of a mug and a perfectly good cup of coffee.

But instead, she was pleasantly surprised when there was a pause in all movement and laughter, both of you looked down at the mess all over Steve and the porch, then your eyes met each others again, and the two of you bursted out in even more laughter.

"Oh no! Was that hot? Are you okay?" Your hand grabbed into his upper arm, questioning between laughter. "I'm sorry!"

"Not hot, I'm fine." He chuckled, patting the top of your thigh twice. "Don't be sorry! Let me get rid of this broken glass real quick so you don't cut yoursel- oh. Hi, Georgia."

"Hi, sorry to interrupt." She slowly walked up the steps.

"Oh my goodness, how are you feeling?!" You questioned, feeling indifferent about her approaching you and Steve.

"A lot better. I just uh, I just wanted to come over and thank you guys for your help. I don't remember much of what happened but Adeline from two doors down told me about it. You had no reason to help, let alone bring flowers and check on on me multiple times. So, again, thank you."

"We had reason to help," Steve cut in, remembering your sad years over your strained relationship with your once dear friend. He was committed to making this work for you. "whether you believe it or not, we care about you."

"I certainly understand that now." Georgia nodded her head.

"How has Michael been since he's been back? Is he adjusting okay?" You asked, having felt worried about him since the snap.

"He's been alright, it's been a bit of a shock to him but that's to be expected. He was focused on taking care of me but now that I'm better I think he's really processing the events that took place." She explained. "Steve, I also heard you got injured pretty badly in battle. Are you alright?"

Her concern had over his well-being had him admittedly surprised. "I did get bit roughed up but I'm a lot better now, thank you."

"I owe you an overdue apology." Georgia sincerely stated. "All the years you've been here, I wildly misinterpreted your character. It's clear to me now that I let the media, and Michael's opinion of you get into my head at the time you found your way to Greenwood. You're a good man, and I can tell you're an even better guy for the sweetest little lady in the whole town. I can tell you two love each other very much, and I hope you understand I only ever wanted what was best for her."

"I appreciate your apology." Steve nodded. "I think we both agree and see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially only ever wanting what's best for this sweet girl. But I'm not the only one you owe an apology to."

"I agree." Georgia nodded. She approached you with small apprehensive steps, then squatted down in front of your seat and placed her hand over yours. "Baby girl, I'm sorry."

You nodded, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I am. Really, really sorry." She squeezed your hand. "You are and always have been one smart, tough cookie and I should've trusted you to make good choices for yourself. I was wrong. I'm happy you have him, and I'm proud of the life you've created for yourself. It makes me happy to see you doing well. It's obvious that you two love each other very much, and I'm sorry for not seeing that until now."

"Thank you" You accepted. Though you would love nothing more than to have things go back to the way it used to be, Steve has taught you a lot about only accepting what's of value to you. Though him, you learned that the bare minimum wasn't the only treatment you should accept in life. He picked your standards up off the floor and held them above the ground. If Georgia wanted a place back in your life, she would have to fight for it. "I love you, and care about you so much. I always have, and I always will. I think this is a good start to reestablishing our friendship, but you know it's gonna take some time?"

Though this challenge was one for her to face, Georgia was proud to see you finally setting healthy boundaries for yourself. The version of you that she was friends with many years ago was a chronic people pleaser who couldn't get any words to leave her mouth that could possibly be taken badly. This version of you was much different, and far more healed and healthy.

“Of course.” She nodded in understanding

Standing up and letting your hand go, she turned to Steve once more. "And Steve, thank you for your service. I really appreciate and respect what you put on the line to save everyone we lost."

"No problem." He nodded before Georgia walked off right back into her own house.

Silence fell between you two for a few moments after her front door closed, until you broke it. "I never thought that would happen."

“Neither did I.” Steve stared blankly across the street.

More silence.

"Do you think she still would've apologized if she knew we were housing Bucky for the time being?" You questioned.

"Some things are better left unsaid." Steve shrugged.

More silence.

"I've been sitting in a puddle of vanilla latte for 5 minutes." Steve stated.

Then your eyes met his, looked down at his lap that was drenched in coffee, then back up at his face.

Once again, you two bursted out into laughter.

After some scrubbing, googling how to get coffee stains out of clothes, a shower, and a load of laundry later, it was like the coffee incident never happened.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were back in New York for a handful of different reasons. The first being location scouting for the new bakery. You dragged Steve around the city for 3 full days with a contractor and a financial advisor, touring empty business slots. Steve kept joking that you were the Prince Charming of bakery owners, you had a theoretical glass slipper and if one of the buildings didn't perfectly fit, it was an automatic no.

But eventually you found the perfect new home for the bakery. And wildly enough, it was in Brooklyn. The entirety of your search, Steve would make a little half-joke half-serious remark that everything good in the city was in Brooklyn. Sure enough, the moment you stepped foot into building, it was an automatic yes. You signed the lease right then and there, and the contractor started taking measurements as you sat in a pretty office with floor to ceiling windows signing paper after paper.

The only person happier than you about this decision was Steve, who had pointed out that the apartment he used to live in with his mom was just down the block. He also told you about how in building the bakery would now be in, used to be a little bodega where him and his Mom would walk to just to buy marshmallow sandwich cookies.

It made you incredibly happy knowing that such a special place to Steve, where he already had fond memories of getting sweet treats would now turn into a whole new place full of even sweeter treats. You'd like to believe that somewhere out there, Sarah Rogers led you to this corner location just to make his boy happy.

That same day, after all the paperwork was done and your wrist hurt from signing the lease agreement, you and Steve walked hand and hand through the streets of Brooklyn. The two of you had done this together many times before, but each time unlocked a special memory for him, and it always made you happy to learn more about who he was before the war.

This time he walked you along the route he used to take on his bike when he worked as a paper boy to put himself through art school. You passed by the apartment he lived in immediately after his Mom died, and surprisingly enough, it looked exactly the same on the outside. Then, you did what had to be done.

Hand in hand, you walked into a bodega and found the marshmallow cookies. You'd never had them before, but apparently they were one of the most popular treats in the 30's and Sarah adored them. After buying a pack of them, ripping them open and doing a little cheers, you each took and bite of the two crunchy vanilla cookies with marshmallow fluff in the center.

You could see the nostalgia flooding his brain, and all you could do was smile. It was the sweetest celebration you could've ever wanted for such a momentous occasion.

Then, you two went upstate for Tony's funeral.

Steve told you over and over again that you didn't have to go. He knew it would be difficult for the Avengers, and even worse for Pepper and Morgan who you'd never met. You were here for work, and already taking time to support him on his last mission as Captain America, and he felt guilty taking even more of your time.

But as he zipped up the back of your black dress, and you straighten out his tie, you reassured him that you wouldn't miss it for the world. He needed you there even though he wouldn't admit it, and you wanted a chance to see the Avengers again, even under such a terrible circumstance.

The two of you stated the night near the cabin after the funeral. The lake was gorgeous, and the cabin you rented was beautiful. It was quiet, quaint, and Sam and Bucky stayed the night with you guys as well.

You could tell the day had taken an emotional toll on them, where the boys used to bounce off the walls when they were all together, they just sat and held conversation instead. One by one the boys knocked out. Steve was first, he fell asleep sitting next to you on the couch. His head fell lnto your shoulder and his face nuzzled into his neck. Then Bucky lost the battle on the arm chair, leaving just you and Sam chatting for hours.

Conversation came easy between you, and you really enjoyed talking to him. You even got a little sad knowing that it was getting late, and Steve had a big day in the morning so you had to cut the conversation off and get him to bed.

Then, the monumental day came.

Steve's last mission.

He expected to have a lot of sadness letting go of such a monumental part of his life, but as he suited up for the very last time he looked in the mirror and felt like he barely even recognized the reflection anymore.

Your arms snaked around his stomach from behind and you rocked forward onto your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before looking at him through the mirror. Only then did he feel like himself again.

"Lookin' good, Baby." Your cheeky smile made an appearance. "Feelin' good?"

"Surprisingly, yes." He responded with a grin, his half gloved hands held onto your arms. "I'm excited to get it over with, so ready to turn a new page."

"I think Sam is going to be honored. You're making a really good choice passing him the mantle." You reassured.

"I think so too." He grinned.

"One last picture before you go?" You asked.

"Whatever you want." He agreed.

Like a proud Mom, you took a few pictures of the two of you through the mirror, and a few of just him. Then, you, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce all met up at the smaller time travel machine that Bruce put together and got ready for Steve's last run.

You waited patiently as they briefed, powered up the Time Machine, and got all of their odds and ends in place.

Once it was good to go, everyone got a hug just in case, except for you that got a hug and a kiss. What could he say? You were just special like that.

"Still got it?" You asked, as always before sending him off.

"Always!" Out of his pocket, he pulled the $20 between his fingers to show you before putting it back in. "Got a little something extra this time too"

Steve grinned as he picked up mjolnir, knowing it was the first time you ever saw him wield the hammer. Then, the cheeky little shit winked at you, earning a laugh and a shake of your head.

"Good luck, baby. It's only the weight entire timeline as we know it on your shoulders, so, no pressure." You smiled.

"No pressure at all, easy peasy." He agreed, stepping onto the platform.

"Go get 'em Cap. Love you!"

"Love you more."

Then you had the greatest privilege of all, saluting the captain for the very last time.

He smiled, nodded, Bruce counted down, then he was gone.

Of course time worked differently for the person time traveling, so even though he was only gone for about a minute or two for you, for him it was hours.

You and Bucky both knew what was about to happen, so the two of you took a physical and mental step back as you waited for his arrival home.

Bruce counted down once more before bringing him back, and you saw him immediately. He purposefully arrived away from the machine, wanting to have a special moment alone with Sam.

He sat alone on a bench looking out onto the lake, no longer in his suit, but in some of his old clothes he got from his place a few years ago. Shield in hand, but in a leather case.

"Where is he? I don't see him?" Bruce questioned.

"Well bring him back!" Sam panicked.

"I did, I thought I-"

"Then where is he?"

"Guys." You cut in. They both stopped and looked at you. Then you pointed at the bench. "Over there."

Both of them looked at you with a confused expression on their face, until Bucky elaborated. "That's for you, Sam."

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You" you confirmed with a prideful grin.

He hesitantly made his way towards Steve, and watched the conversation from a distance. There wasn't very many words that needed to be exchanged, but even just thinking about how Steve was taking his life into his own hands and making such a big change for the happiness of his own self for once had you choked up.

Just a few weeks ago, he couldn't even fathom fighting for himself. Now, he had moved an entire mountain for his own future.

While this was happening, Bucky filled Bruce in on what was going on. You could hear their conversation, but your eyes never left Sam and Steve as you leaned against a tree.

A few moments went by before the two boys shared a nice hug, Steve stood up without his shield and made his way over to you.

Without a word and a big smile on his face, he reached his hand out to hold yours. Your connected arms swung as you made the shirt walk back into the cabin.

It wasn't until you both stepped inside and closed the door behind you that your arms flew around his neck and his lips pressed against yours.

"Congratulations, Baby!" You said enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Sunflower!" His smile was so uncontrollable he couldn't even get his lips to close enough to kiss you again even if he tried. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I brought something to celebrate" You noted with a smile just as big as his.

"Champagne?" He questioned.

"Even better," you denied, walking away into the kitchen before pulling something out of the cabinet. You hid it behind your back before approaching him again. "Hold out your hands!"

"Okay" he giggled.

Swiftly, you placed a package of marshmallow cookies in his hands and his smile widened.

"I've been thinking about your Mom a lot since I got the place in Brooklyn, and I was thinking about how happy she would probably be if she knew you were taking a step down from fighting literal wars, going to space, and time traveling." You explained.

"Oh, if she knew anything about what I've been up to since she's passed, I think I would've given her a heart attack." Steve agreed, feeling a bit emotional knowing someone has been thinking of her just as often as he does.

"She deserves to be included in this celebration, considering she made you, and you've been worrying her from her peaceful rest since the moment you lied on your enlistment form."

"That, she does." Steve agreed and handed you a cookie before grabbing his own.

You held it up a bit as you presented a toast. "To the Rogers finding peace."

He giggled at your words before tapping his cookie against yours and eating it. Amused that this was the second time this week the two of you had cheered and celebrated with marshmallow cookies.

Steve finished chewing, swallowed, then an expression you didn't quite recognize spread across his face. It was like he wanted to tell you something, but hesitated and was now internally analyzing the words before they left his lips.

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Did you notice I was a few seconds late?" He asked.

You knew there was a statement beneath the question he asked. The wheels started turning as you wondered what he was getting on about. "I did. A few seconds for us was a few hours for you... what did you do?" You raised a curious bow.

"You know, that essay you wrote about Peggy really stuck with me." He started, you immediately smiled. "Had me thinking a lot about how I found a lot of peace over the lack of control while being in the ice because I got to know what happened to her. She got married to a man I rescued in the war, had kids, lived a full life."

"I already knew that, because I wrote that essay!" You joked, earning a good laugh from Steve.

"Very smart! Remind me to give you a gold star later!" He chuckled. "But she never got that for me, so I took your advice and paid her a visit."

"You just saw Peggy?!" You questioned with wide, sparkly eyes.

"I did." He told you, still a little cautious in not wanting to offend you. "Obviously she was a little shocked because she thought I was dead, but we sat down and had a nice conversation about what had happened and what was gonna happen. But most importantly I met her kids, and told her about you and that essay you wrote."

"No way!" Your smile widened, and your hands found his shoulders.

"Yes way! She was genuinely delighted to hear about us, and gave her best wishes. She also wanted me to pass along a hello to you, and let you know that she thinks you're beautiful. Oh, and she’s that I get all the cookies I want whenever I want them.”

“Stop it, that’s so cute!” You squeaked. “This is like the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me! And you got more closure, which is incredible! What a great day. I’m so happy for you, but I’m also just so happy in general. What an honor”

“I love you, Baby." Steve stated with a big smile, hands pulling you close again when they found their favorite spot on your hips. "I'm so thankful every single day that I found you. You've been a beacon of light in my life, I wouldn't have ever made it here without you to guide me."

"I love you too." You sighed contently, as his arms wrapped around you. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. We deserve this life together."

"We've been through so much to get to this moment. Thanks for sticking with me no matter what. I know it was hard and painful, and definitely illegal at one point, but I hope now I can prove to you that it was worth it."

"You don't have to prove it. You already did. It's been worth it the entire time, and I'll always choose you no matter how illegal it becomes." You smiled and squeezed him tight. "You're the bestest, coolest, loveliest human I've ever met."

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." He kissed the top of your head.

"You've gotta propose for that one, Love." You poked.

"I'm working on it!" He said defensively, causing you to laugh.

And working on it he was. Because even though life proceeded as normal when you made it back to Greenwood, there was still a lot happening.

Bucky found a cute little apartment that was perfect for him not even two blocks away from the new bakery in Brooklyn. It felt like the perfect middle ground of still being close to you and Steve, all while still being able to live where he wanted geographically.

Shortly after Bucky moved out, you and Steve headed out on a trip to California to visit your Mom. This was a tricky one for Steve, because your relationship with you Mom was a tricky one for you.

Although your relationship with her was something you were actively improving since she came back from the snap, Steve still knew that her approval of him didn't mean much to you. But he was still old fashioned in the sense that he still at least wanted to meet her, and ask her for permission to propose to you before he popped the question.

Whether he felt like her permission or lack there of would actually make a difference for him taking what he wanted was a wash, but he wanted to do it anyways just to be able to know that he tried at the very least.

This was his second time visiting California with you, and he loved it just as much this time around. You guys stayed in your childhood bedroom at your Mom's house that resided in a lazy town on the bay.

He learned a lot about you from the charm of the house alone. The pictures on the walls of baby you, teenage you, and early adulthood you. Conversations exchanged with your mom over breakfast where she never missed an opportunity to share her favorite stories of your antics growing up. He also learned a lot about your Dad because of how frequently he came up in almost every conversation, and he desperately wished he could've met him. Just from what he's heard, he could tell a lot of who you were came from him.

Every night, you and Steve would go out onto the dock to watch the sunset and listen to music together.

You shared stories with him about what felt like endless hours of you sitting on the dock with your dad. Back then, the hours felt long and gruesome. As if sitting and watching the little creatures in the water beneath you was some sort of torture, but as you grew up and towards the end of his life, it became a sanctuary. It was the only place he seemed to be truly calm and relaxed as his memories and executive function left him. By that point, you wished the hours were endless rather than having a metaphorical clock ticking over his head.

Then, when the moon was out and the sky was dark it would somehow evolve into you and Steve slow dancing under the stars.

During the day you'd take him out and show him all of your favorite old spots. Hole in the wall food joints, family owned ice cream shops, the tide pools, and even long drives up the coast to the same music you would dance with him.

It was relaxed, easy, and Steve passed your Mom's unspoken test with flying colors. He sneakily got her approval two days before you guys left California while you were in the shower.

She was so happy about it that Steve almost had to keep you away from her as much as he could so she didn't ruin the surprise.

Then, on your last night in town, you guys walked over to the dock just like every other night since you've been here. Only this time, it was a little later. Dinner ran late so by the time you made it out for one last night, the sun was already setting.

But it was okay, because when the two of you approached hand in hand, and he watched your face twist up with a billion different emotions when you realized that the dock was covered in flowers and lit up with the soft golden glow of dozens of candles, it was all worth it.

At first you were sad because you thought it was for someone else, and the dock was now unusable for you and Steve on your last night. But as he continued walking towards it, and his hand holding yours was shaking and a little clammy, only then did you realize what was happening.

He could barely even get a single word out, let alone present the ring to you and get down on one knee before you were already saying yes. But he was thankful for your enthusiasm, because it instantly took his nerves away.

The ring was perfect, the proposal was perfect, and dancing under the twinkling stars and amongst the burning candles was perfect.

Your fiancé was perfect.

Knowing that he listened to your stories and took them to heart, and incorporating a special place that reminded you of your dad into your love story made you weep happy tears and he held you close and swayed you to the music.

Happy tears seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of you recently, and each little drop was well deserved and worked for.

That night when you got back to your Mom's place, you didn't even have to tell her the news before she flung her arms around you and Steve at the same time in a big bear hug. It was safe to say she was over the moon.

Just to make things even better, that night you and your Mom ended up having a really nice heart to heart. A lot of the issues you've had with her since you were little were addressed, and she apologized for encouraging you to stay with your ex after she realized how bad the relationship actually was. For the first time ever, she told you how proud of you she was, and how amazing you were for the success of the bakery. She promised to visit you out in Greenwood again, and see the bakery and Brooklyn on opening day.

For a little while, your life had felt like an embarrassment of riches, like or was going just a little too well for just a little too long.

Especially when Steve set off on a personal journey of trying to discover who he really was without jumping from battle to battle. It felt like every day the two of you would set off on a little adventure to try out something new.

Between work going so well, and all the fun dates you were going it, it felt like a smile didn't leave your face for months.

Long drives to little towns in the area, pottery and ceramics classes, yoga, pilates, meeting new friends at bars, then getting dragged home and put to bed, hosting dinner parties with you little Greenwood family, then doing the same thing all over again but in Brooklyn with friends you had made over in the big city. It was exciting, new, and you'd never seen Steve quite so radiant before.

Life was easy for a while, but with highs came lows that couldn't be ignored. The closer opening came for the Brooklyn bakery, the harsher the deadlines, and the more stressed you became.

Focusing on one bakery alone was a full time job in itself, but adding in another one had you practically ripping your hair out in the final few months.

All the choices fell on you, all of the paperwork fell on you, and all of the management choices that still needed to be made for the Greenwood bakery were on you as well, and there were no amount of shoulder massages and support Steve could give you to change that.

It was pretty much accepted that the only way out was through, and it would get much much easier once the new team of employees were trained and the doors were opened.

However, the stress took a toll on your body and landed you in the emergency room one fateful night. For the past year, your periods had become more and more painful. The second day of your cycle every since month Steve would try his best to console you through the pain. Hugs, back rubs, heating pads, painkillers, wasn't enough this time around.

You were throwing up, full body chills, goosebumps raised on your skin, and he couldn't get you to uncurl yourself from the tightest little ball unless it was to roll around in discomfort or getting up to vomit again. As much as it hurt his heart to have to bring you somewhere that had such traumatic experiences associated with it, you tapped out. The pain was so bad that you'd rather go to the emergency room than deal with it any more.

Luckily, the worst part was sitting in the waiting room. You sat curled up on his lap, and he held you so snug to him, it's like he was trying to hide you away from all the awful memories. When they finally took you back, they gave you so many pain killers that you were higher than a kite for the rest of it. Lots of exams, two doctors appointments, and a few medical bills later, they decided it was your birth control that needed to be switched.

All was well until a few months later when you woke up nauseous, and ravenously hungry at the same time. Having pushed through it, and gone to work, you called Steve on your lunch break to rant about how grouchy you felt, and how everything was getting on your last nerve.

He decided to stop by and drop off your favorite food to cheer you up since you still had a long day ahead of you. When he gave you a big long hug to try and make you feel better, you started crying because of how nice he was.

That's when it clicked in his head that your period was a whole week late. He brought it up cautiously, and you both agreed that you'd be taking a pregnancy test after work.

Steve picked up a few different kinds from the store, and both of you separately processed what this all meant while waiting for the time to come to have a real answer.

By the time you had gotten off of work and Steve ushered you straight up the stairs, you had gone through all seven stages of grief, and acceptance for whatever the future held for you. Mostly because you knew that no matter what, Steve would be incredible, and you were ready to take on anything life threw your way as long as he was there to hold your hand through it.

That's exactly what he did. You took the test, flipped it face down, and brought it out into the bedroom where you snuggled up together and for three whole minutes, he comforted you and reminded you that it would be okay no matter what.

The timer he set on his phone went off, you asked him to flip the test over.

Both of you read it at the same time, Negative.

Your eyes found each others faces to gauge any sort of reaction. He saw your lip wobbling and tears pooling in your lash line, and you saw him trying his absolute best to hide every drop of disappointment.

"Hey, it's okay." He reminded you with nothing louder than a soft whisper. When his gentle hands tucked your hair out of your face, and he grinned just to bring you some comfort, you fell apart. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry" You apologized, shoving your face into his chest. You didn't know if the apology was for your emotions or the disappointment you were both feeling but left unspoken.

"Don't you dare apologize, my love." He said sweetly, protectively cradling the back of your head. "All I wanted was your health to be a priority, that's why the test was important. As long as you're okay, I'm okay too."

As always, you took his words to heart. You never expected to be so disappointed by the negative result when you weren't actively trying to get pregnant in the first place. You also weren't expecting to be so effected by the tiniest shimmer of sadness in Steve's eyes when he read the test.

Your period showed up the next day, but the thought of having a baby intruded your every waking thought for the next month. It felt like the only time you weren't actively thinking about it was when you were working, but even then, you'd read deadlines printed on papers and wonder if now was a good time.

But then you realized now was a great time. The bakery was set to open in just a few short months, then most of the responsibility would be handed over to staff who was training hard to handle it. Steve was doing better now than ever, and wedding planning hadn't even started yet.

Much like Steve didn't want to propose until he retired, you didn't want to plan a wedding until the bakery was open for business.

With downtime promised in the future, and a sparkly engagement ring on your finger that reminded you of your sweet handsome boy, you decided to just talk to him about the possibility of even just trying.

Just like always, Steve was a thoughtful guy. He choose all of his words carefully through all of your long conversations about the decision to have a kid. You knew he so badly wanted to say yes, in fact, you swore if he was a dog his tail would be wagging every time he even thought about it. But it was a big choice and a huge life change, he wanted to make sure it was really something you wanted and not something you felt pressured into since that one fateful day.

It took 3 more weeks before both of you were wholeheartedly committed to the endeavor with the agreement and the knowledge that it might mot happen right away.

The prospect settled in your mind, and you just enjoyed the journey while you allowed work to be your main priority at the moment. And with so many deadlines approaching, you really didn't have any other choice than to just let the universe work it's magic.

The closer opening day became, it was like the bakery had become your and Steve's child. The two for you spent weeks in the store in Brooklyn painting walls, assembling endless amounts of furniture, directing deliveries, and decorating the lobby to live up to the very high standards of the Greenwood location.

By the time the kitchen was fully stocked, employees were trained, and the whole space was perfect from head to toe, you were both exhausted.

The very last night before opening, you checked every last screw, every bulb in the bake case, every seam in the wallpaper, and quality controlled every last desert on a finalized menu, you and Steve quite literally laid sprawled out on the floor of the lobby.

Steve took a good look around, and was so incredibly proud of all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to make your dreams come true. He knew that if his mom was around to see what this building had turned into if not her beloved bodega, she would be absolutely thrilled to have something like this in the neighborhood.

You laid flat on your back, looking up at the expertly painted ceiling mural and the chandelier, every crystal hung from it by the will of your own two hands.

Then, your rolled over onto your stomach, and your hand pat right in the center of Steve's chest.

"It's midnight, and I have to be back here at 4 in the morning. Maybe I should just have a sleepover." Your exhausted grin took over when you saw his sleepy face.

"You should get a few hours of real sleep before your big day, pretty lady." Steve denied, getting up off the floor and offering his hands to pull you up off the floor. "It looks incredible, you did an amazing job as always."

"It's funny that you think I'll get any sleep at all" You stood, then gave him a kiss. "I really couldn't have done it without your help, so, thank you, Baby."

"Anything for you." He smiled. "I can't wait to see it in the morning, I have butterflies just thinking about this place full of people."

"You and me both." You squeezed his hand. "You don't think the rug clashes with the wallpaper? And the chairs match the wood on the booths?"

"Stop, it's perfect." Steve put your mind to rest. "Just like you!"

"Yeah yeah yeah," you giggled, walking behind the counter. "I guess you're pretty cool too. There's a few cookies left from the test bake. You want some?"

"Wait! Hold on" Steve said dramatically, walking away from you and out of the store.

You stood there confused for a few moments, before he walked back in. Nothing had changed, but he did approach the counter.

"Hello, I'm your first customer!" He enthused.

You giggled, looking at the case that was empty besides 2 chocolate chip cookies. "Hi there, Honey! What can I get'cha?"

"One chocolate chip cookie please" He smiled.

You knew he was recreating the moment the two of you met, though that felt like lifetimes ago, you could never forget the vivid memory of seeing his handsome face for the very first time.

"Okay, but I'm giving you two, because I think anyone who orders one cookie is lying to themselves." You said, putting the cookies in a bag for him.

"Why thank you very much!"

"I don't think I've seen you around here before, are you driving through?" You joked.

"Something like that." He chuckled.

"Well I hope to see you around here again soon, and here are your cookies." You handed him the bag.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asked.

"They're on the house."

"I couldn't possibly accept that" Steve denied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Out came the very same $20 bill the two of you have been passing back and forth since the day you met. You smiled and shook your head at him as he handed it to you. "You have a big day tomorrow, I think it's your turn to hold onto the good luck charm."

You accepted the pass off, "this doesn't mean I lost this argument, did it?"

"It totally does" Steve did a little happy dance.

"You're a cheeky little shit, but I love you."

He laughed at your statement, "I love you more!"

"I have a little surprise for you" You noted.

"You do?" His eyebrows raised.

Nodding, you pointed to an empty slot in the bake case. His eyes followed to read the tag, Sarah's Sandwich Cookies.

His big blues met yours again with the happiest puppy dog pout you've ever seen in your life, if that was even possible.

"What you said about your Mom really stuck with me, and I wanted to make sure her and her love for cookies were honored in a place you hold special memories in. So, marshmallow cookies are permanent and exclusive on the menu for this location." You explained.

He didn't have much to say, but he did walk around the counter and wrap you up in a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"I wish I could've met her." You noted.

"She would've loved you so much, probably more than me." He giggled from above you.

"Impossible" you denied.

He gave you a kiss before letting you go.

"As much as I'd love to stay here forever and ever, I really do want to make sure you get some sleep." Steve noted.

"We can go now." You agreed, heart nervously pounding in your chest. "hey, really quick do you mind checking the oven to make sure it properly cooled down while I lock this register?" You asked.

"Sure thing, sweet thing" he nodded.

As he walked off, you smiled to yourself and your stomach filled with butterflies. You let him get a few paces ahead of you before leaning into the doorway of the kitchen while watching him reach for and open the oven doors.

He checked the temperature of the internal thermometer, which looked normal to him, but then, he stopped.

"Hey, I think someone forgot something in here!" He shouted for you, not quite understanding.

"That's odd, what is it?" You approached from behind.

"A cinnamon roll, but just one, and it's on a... plate?" He looked at it again. "Did you guys even make cinnamon rolls today?"

You smiled and shook your head at his wholesome cluelessness, but all of his attention was directed at getting the cinnamon roll out of the oven.

"No, we didn't." You denied. "But why would that be there in the first place?"

"Maybe someone wanted to warm one up them forgot about it" He pondered before pouting at it. "I don't know if that's more sad for the cinnamon roll or the person who forgo-"

Then he stopped.

His eyes met yours and his mouth fell open.

"Why would there possibly be a bun in the oven?!" You continued questioning with a huge uncontrollable smile, even though you were positive he understood now.

"You're lying." His eyes went wide, smile slowly spreading across his lips as tears welled in his eyes.

"No I'm not." You shook your head again with a chuckle and walked towards him. Out of your back pocket, you pulled out a very positive pregnancy test and showed it to him. "I'm definitely pregnant, like, super pregnant."

"You're pregnant?!" He blinked back his tears, one fell right down his cheek. "Like, right now?!"

You wiped it off with your thumb as you laughed at his question. "Right now."

"Holy shit!" He smiled, his hands landing on your shoulders, gently shaking them very enthusiastically. "You're pregnant! We're having a baby!"

"We are, we really really are!" You shared his enthusiasm, shaking his shoulders right back.

"Oh my gosh! When did you find out?" He questioned, eyes wide and staring at you in disbelief.

"Three days ago, I would've told you sooner but I wanted to surprise you." You explained, wiping another happy tear off his cheek.

"That's crazy, this is so crazy." He chuckled, finding himself unable to stop the tears from dripping down his cheeks. "How are you, are you feeling okay?"

"I've been constantly nauseous and trying so hard to hide it." You giggled at your own confession. "But other than that, so far so good. Are you feeling okay?"

"I didn't even know it was possible to be this happy or this in love but for some reason I'm feeling both at the same time, and I don't know what to do with myself." He confessed.

You smiled at his state of emotion, and smothered his face in kisses as he processed the news you just told him. Then, the news sunk in and his arms wrapped around you, and he took his turn smothering you in kisses.

"I'm so excited to go on this journey with you, this is incredible" he cried happily.

"You're gonna be the best dad ever." You cheesed, squeezing him back.

With two fingers under your chin, he raised your head and pressed a long, loving kiss on your lips. His palm rested on your cheek, and you sleepily sighed at the comfort of being held by your favorite boy.

"God, I love you so much." He confessed once more for the billionth time that day. "This is the most selfless thing anyone could ever do for someone, and I get to spend the rest of my life spoiling you rotten every single day and I'm so happy about it."

"It was so hard for me not to immediately tell you" You giggled. "But it was worth it to see you cute little face."

"Now I really want to make sure you get some sleep!" He enthused. "Oh, also..."

He pulled away from you and reached into his pocket, then pulled out a crisp $10 bill and handed it to you.

"What is this for?" You questioned, unable to hide your smile.

"Extra good luck! 10 for you, 10 for me, 10 for cinnamon roll." He explained.

"Never in my life have I felt quite as lucky as I do right now." You accepted.

$30 worth of good luck or not, the universe sent you Steve Rogers, and that was the day you won the lottery. That made you the luckiest girl I'm the whole world.

"Baby, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you better tell me to get it done for you. Hungry? I'm gonna find you a Michelin star meal. Tired? You better believe you're getting a full body massage. Can't reach the top shelf? Ring a bell and I'll bring a latter." He told you, and you could tell he was being absolutely serious. "I don't want you lifting a single finger, and I mean it!"

You chuckled and shook your head. "Don't say what you don't mean, because I'm going to be needing you a lot of that's the case"

"Being needed is literally all I've ever wanted in life" Steve accepted your statement.

"Well now with our little cinnamon roll on the way, we're both going to need you more than you'll ever know." You kissed him, and wiped the last of the happy tears off of his cheeks.

"You're right, it really is so nice to be needed."

The end 🌟🤍

@patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Merry & Bright"

Part 1 - "Postpartum"

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: postpartum depression, PTSD, body insecurities, mpreg

Summary: A week before Thanksgiving, Bucky's trying to get ready for this goddamn Turkey Trot he has to do.

Part 1: Postpartum

Bucky gets the girls to school before nine, comes home, then leaves Gabe with Darcy while he laces up his sneakers and heads out for a run. He used to be more of a gym shark, before the arm, but between people staring at that, and the fact that the nearest gym is currently the 53rd Street Equinox full of insufferable snobs in lululemon, Bucky takes his chances in the park most days. 

The trees have held their leaves longer than usual this year, so it’s to the scenery of brisk air and bright fall foliage that Bucky bends and stretches against one of the park benches. According to the doctor, it’s extra important for him to warm up to prevent injuries, as all of his tendons and ligaments are still overly-relaxed from having Gabe. He starts off down the Gapstow path with his water bottle strapped to his palm.

He’s been walking a little more each day, and has worked up a route in the park that approximates the 5k he’s got to practice for. He jogs short parts of it, but never very long. His GP gave him the clearance for exercise well over a month ago, but this time around it’s been more the mental side of postpartum rather than the physical that’s held him back.

…Okay, maybe it’s been both. He pauses at a bend in one of the more wooded areas and looks around quickly to make sure he’s alone, just so he can poke at his tender chest through his shirt and sports bra. He’d fed Gabe earlier that morning, but his milk has come in heavier this time around and he can already feel some of the pressure returning. It makes jogging less enjoyable than it otherwise would be. Things are … sore. 

His scrutiny migrates down to his stomach, where he winds up scowling and squeezing at a fistful of his still-soft tummy. He feels ridiculous as emotion starts to swell within him and he begins tearing up unexpectedly. He lets his shirt fall back down with a sniffle, face heated and embarrassed when another jogger comes from up around the bend unexpectedly. The woman waves distractedly at Bucky as she runs past, and Bucky waves back, relaxing when he sees her earbuds and how lost she is in her own run. She’s listening to music, she didn’t see him having a mini freakout over his body. He watches her go and then forces himself not to lift up his shirt or poke at his stomach again. 

It’s not that he’s even that big—he’s not. He didn’t put on more than the recommended twenty-five pounds, not for either of his pregnancies, but this time around his body just doesn’t seem to be snapping back into shape as quickly. He still doesn’t look like him. And yeah, Steve has been endlessly supportive and reassuring, and it's only been a few months and Bucky knows he should just be grateful to have another healthy baby, but it’s just … he can’t remember ever having been this soft with Sarah. Or this sad. 

The tears are still there, pressing hotly at the backs of his eyes, which just makes him feel all the more pathetic and mad about it. Some days he doesn't feel like his haywire emotions will ever get back to normal. It’s annoying and embarrassing too, because it doesn’t even make sense. There’s nothing to even be so friggin’ mopey and weepy about!

He takes a swig from his water bottle and practices the deep breathing and sense counting exercises his therapist has trained him to do. Bucky’s long-used the techniques to quell building panic attacks, but those have historically been triggered by far more serious matters. The fact that he’s equally as distraught now about his flabby body as he has been in the past about memories of systematic rape and torture is just pathetic. But, as Bucky’s therapist likes to say: “The mind compartmentalizes to protect, but it’s like a stranger trying to organize your garage and not knowing what goes where. Things wind up getting put in strange places." 

(Bucky's therapist has a penchant for over-involved metaphors.)

He works himself back into a light jog, determined to get at least half of today’s practice run done at an actual run. Steve is doing this 5k too, and Bucky is determined not to let the alpha run too many laps around him.

… Well, not too many, at least. Bucky supposes he can cut himself a little slack. He is the one who pushed a baby out of his posterior four months ago, after all. And epidural or not, Gabe still came into the world weighing a hefty seven pounds, three ounces. Something like that’s bound to slow a guy down no matter how diligently he trains.

Since his emotions are being so goddamn mercurial, he slows and maintains a brisk walk as he paces himself. Gratitude, he thinks. Next week is Thanksgiving. He practices visualizing all the fucking gratitude he can muster for the rest of the route. Meds, he thinks at first. He’s grateful as fuck for the meds that are safe enough for him to take while he’s still breastfeeding Gabe. They’re the main reason he’s not a nonfunctional puddle of tears in his apartment right now. But there’s a lot to be grateful for, a lot to use as ammunition against the war his depression has been waging in his brain. He repeats it all back to himself as he picks up into another light jog:

He’s alive, for one. He’s survived a shitstorm that a lot of other people didn’t - the insurgency, years under a brutal totalitarian regime, and he escaped with a lot left to his name. He’s still got most of his family left alive. He’s got his daughters, and now his son, and a wonderful Alpha and husband. He’s gained friends and an education and a job. There’s a stupid-expensive historic brownstone being custom-renovated for him over in Brooklyn at this very moment, and he’s even as good as got his left arm back, for chrissakes. 

That’s a lot, he thinks, as he jogs harder and the endorphins start to kick in. He’s rich beyond all fucking belief, despite what those years in Gilead stole from him. And he should be grateful. He is grateful. He thinks of Sarah’s hysterical laughter and Becca’s beaming smile, of the funny little face Gabe makes when he poops, and the way Steve’s eyes shine when he sees Bucky holding their infant son. Those kids mean the world to him. 

Three healthy children: That’s still wildly uncommon. Babies are born messed up all the time. They don’t live long. Most people can’t even have kids without years upon years of trying, and most people would kill to have what Bucky has. He’s got no right to feel anything but happy.

He finishes his route at a jog, panting and sucking in the crisp fall air and mental-exercising himself into a better mood: Thanksgiving’s next week! Be thankful! There’s nothing to be sad about, jeezus!

After all that he’s been through, nothing so mundane as a little postpartum depression is going to derail him now. He refuses. That would just be too lame of an ending, and he’s determined to make this work: this Turkey Trot, his marriage, his life. It’s hard. It takes effort and he wishes it didn’t, wishes it could just be easy sometimes, but, “Nothing worth having …” and all that. 

The tears are almost forgotten by the time he leaves the park.

Masterlist

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[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (6/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Self-hating inner dialogue  A/N: I ended up writing this chapter from both Reader's and Bucky's perspective because I couldn't choose between them, and had to puzzle piece my favorite parts together. 

A few hours after Steve left, Bucky found himself dozing slightly on the couch in his dark living room. He’d long abandoned his book on the side table, leaving an old black and white rerun of The Lone Ranger on mute on the TV, flashing light across his stretched out form.

When he’d first come back to the compound, before Shuri had removed the words from his brain in Wakanda, he’d spend many nights outside of his body, doing nothing just like this— the sound of the TV too overstimulating, words on the page swimming away from comprehension, unable to focus on anyone or anything for long. Instead, he’d just sit and drift, letting his mind go blank. Sam had called it “disassociating”— whatever the fuck that means. He hadn’t been like this in a few years— this out of himself— not after Wakandan’s powerful therapies helped him escape some of the more acute terrors of his brain.

He was startled out of his state by a soft knock on the door. He felt a flash of irritation at Steve’s overprotectiveness, before his hackles raised as he scented Y/N of all people faintly through the door. He jumped up in a panic from the couch, his socked feet silent on the floor as his eyes took a rapid inventory of his apartment. There was a sweaty pile of gym clothes on the other side of the couch that he first hurled into his closet. Then, he flicked on the lamp and the soft kitchen light, quickly looped his fingers through a few mugs cluttering the coffee table, and dropped them in the sink before he approached the door.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about why she was here— Did she figure out the gifts? — or take a deep breath— he opened the door.

Despite his held breath, her scent hit him all at once— a rush of spicy-sweet peppermint, the crisp, clean smell of snowfall— strong enough with its source right in front of him that it burned his nose a bit on the inhale. Bucky swore his heart skipped several beats.

She was dressed in a cozy-looking, quarter zip pullover and a comfortable pair of black joggers, just like the kind that Nat wears— functional, clean lines, hugging her form in all the right places. Her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just gotten up from the couch after a nap. It was so cozy, so domestic, it made his heart ache with renewed want. But underneath her sweet peppermint smell lay the warm and familiar newspaper-ink scent of Steve. Paired with her cozy, slightly disheveled state, it was as if she had just extricated herself from his arms to show up at Bucky’s door.

Bucky’s inner Alpha fought between roaring in possessive rage and wilting in cowed rejection, but he forced his expression into careful neutrality.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Her facial expression looked stricken, and Bucky realized how weird he was being. He’d puffed out his chest without noticing— all Alpha instinct and posturing at the whiff of Steve’s scent— and he quickly readjusted, folding his form into a more relaxed lean against the door.

What do you say to the gorgeous Omega you violated, avoided for a month, and then left creepy gifts to when she shows up at your door at 10pm? Before he could mumble out something to break the awkward silence, she interrupted the panicked swirl of his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was high and tight, like she was trying not to inhale. Even Steve had said his apartment smelled. He felt shame curl tight in his gut, and he had to stop himself from closing the door to shut himself and his depressing stench away. “I’m sorry, I came here to talk to you about something, but I’m feeling kind of— dizzy?” Y/N’s expression looked dazed, and she started to sway a little on her feet.

Bucky’s Alpha instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, urging him to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight, snuggle her into his den until she was healthy and clear-headed. But now that she was here, the rational part of his brain was much more terrified at the possibility of scaring her off. Act. Normal.

“Do you want to sit down?” he said, swallowing hard as he opened his door further. Inviting an unbonded Omega into an Alpha’s den was toeing the line of socially acceptable— at least when he was growing up in the 30s— but she didn’t seem fazed by the invitation, nodding and slipping inside. He gestured towards the couch, giving her a wide enough berth that she wouldn’t feel caged in— surrounded by his scent as she was— and she chose to sit in the same, still-warm spot where he’d just been lying, sinking back into the couch cushions. Bucky felt equally satisfied and pained at the thought that her smell would cling to his favorite spot for weeks. He plopped across from her in the armchair where Steve had been just hours before, aiming for nonchalance.

“Sorry,” she said again, waving her hand next to her head. “I think I’m just… overtired or something.” She yawned, kitten-like. His Alpha roared inside him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to touch, but he held himself perfectly still.

“It’s okay,” he said. “So…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentleman. God, he was a fucking loser.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, bracing her hands on her thighs. “I came here to apologize.”

——-

After the movie ended and Sam finished showing us 6 deleted scenes and 10 YouTube interviews, I finally slipped quietly out of my new blanket nest and away from the steadying comfort of the Alpha-Omega sandwich. I paced for a bit in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, gearing myself up for what would likely be an awkward confrontation with a man I knew well intimately but hardly personally. As much as I’d like for him to sweep me off my feet and into the safety and comfort of his den, he’d probably tell me I was delusional and that he was avoiding me because he wanted to be left alone. That’s why I figured it was probably best to start with an apology.

What I did not prepare for during my anxious pacing was the overwhelming Alpha scent that washed over me the minute he opened the door. It was like getting hit in the face by a truck full off pheromones designed specifically to reduce me to a shivering, keening puddle on the floor. Every clever thing I planned to say flew right out the window as I swayed under the strength of his gaze and the delicious cedar wood and bonfire scent that curled around me.

Inside his apartment wasn’t any better. I should have asked to meet on neutral ground, I thought immediately after stepping through the door. Everywhere smelled like him. Even the couch underneath me was still warm from where he was probably curled up before I’d interrupted. It took all my strength to quiet the dizzying rush of hormones in my head, breathe in deeply through my mouth, and spit out what I came here to say.

“I came here to apologize,” I said, gulping down the ridiculous, submissive words my hindbrain wanted to follow up with. I’m so sorry, Alpha. It wasn’t my fault. I can be better for you.

Bucky looked… confused. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I know we… did what we had to do. When we were trapped. And I’m sorry that I… reacted the way I did. I know heats are really intense. For everyone. I know I made you uncomfortable, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.” I paused again, biting hard on my lower lip as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I looked down at my lap, where I was digging my fingers hard into my thighs, and forced out the last few words. “But I couldn’t help it. And I’m sorry I went into heat. I think it was the purring. I’ve… never felt that. Before.”

I didn’t look up from my lap at first, wincing internally. Bucky’s silence after my lousy attempt at an apology hurt worse than anything so far. The least he could do is acknowledge that it wasn’t my fault.

I took a shaky inhale, and felt a lump build up in my throat. Goddamnit. Don’t fucking cry. Not now.

“I— This was a mistake,” I said, sniffling hard and willing the tears rapidly welling up in my eyes not to fall. I finally looked up from my lap, bracing myself to stand and backtrack the hell out of here, when I simultaneously saw the look on Bucky’s face and caught the scent of absolutely devastatedAlpha.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice deep and rough, on the edge of an Alpha command. I froze instantly, though it wasn’t because he’d compelled me to. Alpha commands only worked on their bonded Omegas and their offspring.

No, I froze because Bucky looked… heartbroken. It was the only time I’d seen an ounce of vulnerability on his face, besides that moment in the cell when he’d first realized he was falling into a chemically-induced rut. My eyes flicked down to where his metal hand was fisted so hard in the arm of his chair that the seams were starting to rip.

Before I could blink it away, I felt one unruly tear slip down my cheek, though my own shame and embarrassment had taken a backseat once I’d recognized Bucky’s distress.

“I— Fuck,” he said. Faster than I could register, Bucky heaved himself forward, sinking down onto his knees on the floor in front of me, hands clutching at the couch cushions on either side of my thighs. Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in twin pools of grey-blue. His scent burned on my next inhale, sharp and distressed, the sour stench of guilt that lingered in the corners of his apartment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s voice was a breathy, raspy growl. It sent a thrill up my spine, and for a moment, I didn’t register that he’d asked me a question. This close, I could feel the heat of his skin, see the stubble on his jaw, scent that delicious smell of him— like snowmelt, like the wind on your face, like a deep inhale at the summit of a mountain…

Bucky broke his gaze first, growling low and dark in his chest. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have already. But I—“ He cut himself off, lip curling in disgust as he leaned away from me. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Alpha doesn’t want you.

I inhaled hard, suppressing a sob, feeling more hot tears run down my cheeks.

I needed to leave. Now. I wasn’t in control of my emotions. This was embarrassing. “Clingy Omega sobs in disinterested Alpha’s apartment.” What would the pack think of me?

I moved to stand up again, but the low-grade growl in Bucky’s chest sharpened, and he lurched forward, crowding me back against the couch cushions.

Before I could even register the aggression in his action, or even think to be fearful of him, Bucky had already leaned back out of my space and silenced his growl.

“Fuck! Sorry— I’m. Sorry. Don’t leave yet. I won’t—“ He cut himself off again, shaking his head in frustration, before standing up to put more distance between us again, moving to lean on the back of the armchair across from me with his head in his hands. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I should be the one apologizing. Because I… hurt you. I told you that you were safe. And you weren’t. Not from me.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his expression looked tortured, but his scent was worse— ashy and acidic, hatred and guilt. Guilt? Why was he…

I swiped hurriedly at the tears on my cheeks, feeling the lump in my throat clear as confusion and exasperation took over.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” I huffed. Well, as fine as one can be when they’re pining over an Alpha who can’t stand to be in the same room as them. Maybe he feels guilty about Hydra restraining me? That’s the only logical explanation I could think of.

“Tony got the cuffs off right when I got back here, it’s not like you could have removed them. They were Terrigen crystal.” I shook my head, and once again moved to stand and leave as the futility of this conversation dawned on me. “Whatever. I’ll just go.”

This time, I got in a few steps towards the door before that low growl started up again and he caught my wrist in his right hand.

I should have been terrified. I should have been running for my life. I should have frozen him into the floor. I was an unbonded Omega in a growling Alpha’s den, soaked in a combination of our distressed pheromones, held in his grasp and unable to leave.

But despite all the reasons I had to roll over and bare my throat in fearful submission, absolutely no part of me felt scared or unsafe.

Bucky’s hand on my wrist was gentle. Not holding me back, but pleading for me to stay. And the feel of his skin on mine made something hot, desperate and dark curl within me.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, my back still turned half away from him. “In that cell. I… forced myself on you. You trusted me enough to fall into a heat, and I took advantage. You shouldn’t be apologizing, because you should hate me.”

When I turned back around, the raw expression on his face made my stomach lurch. He looked… devastated. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Feeling hysterical, I couldn’t help a little nervous giggle from bubbling up in my throat.

All this time, this big, dumb, handsome, superhero Alpha had really thought he’d violated me in some way. Me. The Omega who had practically rubbed her entire body in his scent, who had stayed up for hours yearning for his Alpha purr, who’d had sex dreams about him dirty enough to make a pornstar shudder.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said.

Bucky frowned earnestly. “No… I—“

“So you’ve been leaving me secret gifts because you felt… guilty?” I said, knowing I was putting him on the spot. Something about being in his presence, in his den, was making me bold— finally giving in after a month of exasperation, of chest-aching pain.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish, dropping my wrist from where his hand still encircled it. “Uh. It wasn’t—I was just— I’ll stop if you—“ he said, stumbling over his words.

His nervousness, I noted absurdly, was charming.

That’s when I suddenly realized that here, surrounded by Bucky’s scent, close enough to touch, I felt lighter than I had in over a month. The dull ache in my chest had lifted, and in its place, all I felt was an incredible sense of rightness.

Comfort Alpha, my Omega murmured, crawling back up from the recesses of my brain where I’d shoved her away earlier.

And, well, I was tired of fighting her. Fuck it.

“Bucky,” I laughed, cutting off his sputtering. “You— You didn’t force anything on me. We were both out of our minds. Hell— I’m still out of my mind! I’ve been pining over you for a month. My fucking chest,” I said, reaching up to worry at my sternum where the pain had been centered.

“You— What?”

————

As soon as Y/N had settled into the couch, and Bucky’s inner Alpha had registered that she was within reach, soaked in his scent and looking gorgeous and vulnerable, he’d lost it a little.

First— confusingly— she had started apologizing. Then in just a few, rapidly devolving moments, he’d (1) made her scent spike with anger and sadness, (2) watched helplessly as tears clumped in her eyelashes and tracked down her smooth cheeks, and (3) acted like a territorial knotheadwhen she’d tried to leave— as if he hadn’t fucked things up enough.

And now she was… confessing her feelings for him?

That couldn’t be right.

“You— What?”

Bucky recognized that absolutely no part of this conversation had demonstrated his intelligence. He was actually starting to think maybe the serum had given him early onset dementia.

He took a step closer to her, knowing he was pushing it by crowding the Omega in his own territory, but too overwhelmed to care. “But… What about Steve?” he asked. Just being within feet of her, he could smell the newspaper ink scent of his best friend still lingering on her clothes.

Y/N quirked her head. “What about him?” She lifted her arm to take a sniff at her shoulder, seeming to scent what remained of him on her pullover.

Bucky bit hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting a scowl. He wasn’t that dumb. “You two are… you know,” he started, shrugging to hide the hurt. “Together.”

An amused smirk tugged at her lips. “What, did you think I was canoodling with Wanda and Sam as well? The whole pack? Because I smell like all of them, too.”

And, well, yes. This close, Bucky could pick up Wanda’s muted cinnamon smell, Sam’s citrus scent, and even a splash of rosewater from Nat.

Then, Bucky noticed that Y/N’s hand was still worrying at her sternum. In the very same spot where he’d practically rubbed holes in his own shirts over the past month. He matched the motion dazedly, reaching up to place his palm over his own chest. That same nagging thought that had dogged him for weeks in the Brooklyn apartment fought back to the forefront of his mind. Bond withdrawal.

“You feel it too?” he said, his words coming out softer than he’d intended, disbelief coloring his tone.

Bucky watched as her snarky expression melted away, eyes turning serious and contemplative. She took a step forward, now so close that they were breathing the same air, and nodded resolutely.“All day. Every day. Aching. And—” She paused, a fierce blush rising on her cheeks. “Your… purr. I feel like I nee—“

Before his higher functions could process the words coming from her lips, Bucky’s hindbrain took control of his body. He crowded Y/N back into the wall behind them, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned in to take a deep, desperate lungful right at the scent glands on her neck. She tipped her head back instantly, baring her throat to him and letting out a breathy moan that sent his head spinning, her sweet peppermint scent coursing through his veins like the best drug.

In the morning, maybe, he’d regret this.

But right here, right now? Omega really wants him. Fucking finally.

The sight of her bared throat made his Alpha wild with need— the same trusting submission he thought he had abused before, now presented to him without abandon. He replaced his nose on her neck with his lips and tongue, and her body arched against his, their hips lining up. She keened softly, and his cock thickened in his pants, forcing him to bite back a gratified growl as he ran his nose up and down the column of her throat. Her scent was changing, taking on an earthy, musky note, like fallen leaves and wet moss. Arousal. He felt his mouth water, and he could scent his own aroused pheromones filling the air, mixing with hers.  

Was he dreaming? This couldn’t be real. He didn’t deserve this— her trust, her want, her body beneath him.

But Bucky’s inner Alpha was crowing. The feel of her against him, her scent lighting his body on fire from the inside out— it stirred up the deepest, darkest, most possessive Alpha instincts buried deep within. Not Steve’s. Mine. My Omega.

Y/N snaked a hand up his chest, pressing her cool palm to the side of his face and nudging his gaze up to meet hers. Her pupils were blown wide, plush lower lip pulled between her teeth— almost shy. The look shook Bucky out of his mindless Alpha stupor. He had to be sure. Because once he was…

He pulled back slightly so she could breathe. “Is this— Do you want this?” he asked, voice rough with need.

“Yes.”

———

The moment the word slipped from my lips, Bucky finally let go of the tight restraint holding himself back. I knew he was desperate before, when he had his nose buried in my neck. And I could smell the musky, warm flannel scent of his arousal in the air— feel the hard evidence of it against my hip.

But as soon as I’d finally, finally convinced this stupid, perfect, frustratingly dense Alpha that this was what I wanted— what I had wanted from the start— he let out a mind-numbing growl that made my knees go weak and shaky.

Though I was at first anticipating a rough and frenzied claiming— especially after a month of needless separation— I supposed that with Bucky’s extreme handle on his inner Alpha, it would be anything but. And I was right.

His lips were surprisingly gentle where they met mine, but insistent, commanding as he opened my mouth against his, stubble scraping at my cheek. I did my best to match his intensity, kissing back with everything I had, trying hard to communicate with more than words what he hadn’t let himself believe. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, and before I could prepare myself, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and headed towards the couch.

“No, bed,” I gasped, tearing my lips away from his for a moment. Bucky honest-to-god whined, changing course immediately to carry me further into his den, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him as we entered the space where his scent was thickest. In the low light, I could make out dark furniture and a large bed, which he settled me gently in the middle of, sheets and blankets a delicious, cedar-scented tangle around me. I could feel my heartbeat pick up, arousal thrumming through every nerve ending in my body, slick between my legs coming embarrassingly fast as my Omega prepared for the Alpha my body desperately craved.  

He hesitated for a moment once I was settled, hovering his body above mine, and I could see the glint of his steely eyes tracing down my form. I knew I didn’t look the sexiest in my cozy clothes, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath his scrutiny, letting out my own indignant whine.

He chuckled— a dark, Alpha sound, then sat back a bit on his haunches to free his hands so that he could trace them down the curve of my sides. He stopped at the hem of my pullover, eyes flicking to meet mine. I nodded, sitting up a bit to let him pull it over my head, taking my bra with it. Once it was off, he hurled it dramatically into the furthest corner of the room, taking the pack’s scent with it. I couldn’t help but laugh at his possessive posturing, before I caught the intense look on his face as his eyes roved over my bare chest and stomach, drinking me in like he was afraid to break the spell by touching.

Goosebumps pebbled the skin of my arms, though not from cold. I reached up to pull him down closer to me, and I could feel him trembling— still holding himself back.

“Bucky,” I pleaded, arching up my lower half to press my core against his leg. He remained still, flesh and metal hands holding my waist firmly in his grasp. “Alpha,” I tried.

That worked.

With a choked-out growl, Bucky surged up against me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from my mouth, down my neck, across my scent glands and to my chest, where he sucked and laved at my sensitive nipples.

“Fucking perfect, Omega,” he breathed, sounding pained. “Smell so good. Like you were made for me. Unbelievable.”

I whined in response, each inhale taking in more of his heady scent, making my head swim. He kissed a hot path from my chest down my belly, nosing at my hip and the waistband of my pants. “Didn’t think you wanted this, doll. Not with me,” he said, flesh hand gripping my side hard enough to bruise. My Omega thrilled at the idea of a mark left behind. Down, girl.

He hesitated at the drawstring of my joggers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Omega?” he panted, mouth slack and plush lips wet. I hitched in a breath at the sight of him, feeling punch-drunk and so overwhelmingly turned on I had to fight the urge to close my eyes. I nodded my consent, but reached out to tug at the shoulder of his shirt first, which he ripped over his head with one hand to reveal the sculpted, shadowy planes of chest. The hard lines of him looked like they were cut from steel. Jesus Christ.

“Please,” I pleaded again, canting up my hips, and he rumbled in response, dragging down my pants and underwear in one smooth glide down my legs. I tightened my thighs together reflexively— still wanting, but momentarily shy at being completely bare for him, and the the thought of the amount of slick he’d find between my legs.

“Perfect,” he practically purred, leaning in to kiss me softly, reassuringly, slotting his hips between my legs until I was spread wide beneath him. He kissed back down my body once my breathing slowed, his cold metal hand leaving goosebumps behind as it trailed down my side to behind my knee, where he lifted my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He paused at my navel, looking up at me one more time. “Okay, doll?”

I took in a shuddering breath, the need for him to touch me overpowering my nerves, before nodding. The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk, making my breath catch in my throat, before he dove between my legs with what could only be described as super soldier-like intensity. He sucked slowly, teasingly at the scent glands on my inner thighs before dragging his nose through my slick folds, lapping up my slick like a man starved. He found my bundle of nerves instantly, beginning a relentless tease with his tongue.

I’d never felt anything like it. A litany of uncontrollable whimpers and moans fell from my mouth as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he growled, throwing his metal arm across my hips to hold me down as I bucked up in need against his face. “Never tasted anything like you.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his flesh hand drag along the inside of my thigh before he pressed one thick finger slowly inside me. The sounds coming out of my mouth were sinful, and I pushed my face into the pillow beside my head to muffle them as I tightened around the digit.

“Alpha, please,” I begged, squirming as I teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. He carried on, increasing the intense assault with his tongue, before adding another finger next to his first, canting them both up towards my navel in a slow drag inside me. The fullness is what pushed me over the edge with a cry. He loosened his hold on my hips to let me ride it out against his mouth until I pulled away sharply with the sting of oversensitivity. He slipped his fingers from me drenched in slick, bringing heat to my cheeks, before licking his fingers clean with his gaze trained on mine.

“God,” I gasped out as my heart rate started to come down, feeling lightheaded and tingly all over from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my fucking life.

“Thanks, but you can call me Bucky.”

Did he— I barked out a disbelieving laugh at the absolute, shit-eating grin on his face— a carefree, pleased look I hadn’t seen before in the short time I’d known the Alpha.

He laughed with me, before moving back up the bed, pressing his burning hot chest to mine, and leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. The waistband of his pants dug into my hip, along with the shockingly hard length of him.

“Oh, I didn’t—“ I broke away from his mouth, moving my fingers down to scrabble at the button of his pants, but he gently moved my hand away with one of his own.

“You don’t need to,” he said, his voice deep and rough— sounding just as fucked out as me, though I hadn’t even touched him.

I frowned. “But I want to. Do you not want me to—“

He cut me off with a kiss, before dropping his forehead to my chest. I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin, my nipples peaking in interest even though I felt thoroughly sated already.

“Jesus, doll. Of course I do.” He lifted his head up, meeting my gaze, and I could see his jaw clenching as he fought for the right words. When I’d first met him I’d chalked up his taciturn mannerism as a side effect of the rut, but now, I realized it was just another endearing facet of his personality. He liked to make every word he spoke count. Makes sense when you spent seventy years in a muzzle.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he finished.

This again? I leaned down, pulling a blanket up and over my frame to cover my naked lower half, and Bucky moved off me slightly.We probably should have talked more before Bucky decided to take me to the astral plane— but I certainly wasn’t complaining about the way things had progressed, and by the scent of proud Alpha that still lingered in the air, he hadn’t minded either.

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for anything that happened in that cell. Not even a little bit,” I began. He sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at his flesh hand, which he’d fanned out across my belly. I wasn’t a petite woman, but underneath his massive hand, I felt… small and safe in the best way. A way that made my Omega sing with pleasure at having found a match that could both provide and protect in the ways I needed him to. “It didn't even occur to me that I should blame you. If anything, I was grateful. You protected me and comforted me in a way that very few Alphas would have been able to while in rut.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his scent hadn’t sunk back into the sour distress of our earlier confrontation, so I knew he had heard me. He shifted to lie down on his back, lifting his flesh arm over my head to scoop me against his chest. I snuggled up to meet him, curling up against his side with my head pillowed on his massive bicep.

It felt… right— like two puzzle pieces finally joining— and I was suddenly reminded of the ache, or rather, the lack of it.

“You asked me earlier if I felt it too,” I whispered, the moment quiet and sacred in the muted light of Bucky’s den. I lifted my eyes to look at him to find he was already gazing down at me. “I know this is crazy for me to say, but this just feels so—“

“Right,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “It feels right. And my chest doesn’t hurt anymore, now that you’re here.”

“It’s gone for me too. Bucky— god— I thought I was going crazy. I thought you hated me. I thought I was going to have to leave the pack,” I whined, feeling the low-level anxiety of the past few weeks rush back in one big wave. Bucky must have scented the intensity of my distress, because he shushed me softly, running a soothing hand up and down my back, before nudging my head onto his chest and starting up that painfully familiar rumble that I’d yearned for for weeks. His purr.

I instantly melted against him, feeling anxiety make way for comfort and bliss as every muscle in my body let go of the tension it was holding. I let out an involuntary moan of relief as I drowned in his purr and the cedar scent that surrounded me like a cocoon.

“’S fucking good,” I slurred, and I could feel Bucky’s laugh cut through the vibrations.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head away from his chest so that I could meet his eyes again. He was still staring, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. I shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. I immediately opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “No, listen. I should have apologized to you as soon as we got back. But I was afraid.” He said it resolutely, unfalteringly. An Alpha admitting their fear was rare. But Bucky wasn’t a typical Alpha. “I was afraid of what I was feeling— of what you might be feeling. And when I saw you with Steve, I just thought—“ he paused, closing his eyes. “I thought I could move on. That you had made the right choice.”

Though my heart hurt to think of the turmoil that Bucky had put himself through over the past month, I had to smirk. Bucky might be different in other ways, but his jealousy over my imagined relationship with Steve was stereotypical Alpha.

“Is that why you started leaving me secret gifts?” I asked teasingly, feeling a smile curling across my lips. “Saw another Alpha swoop in and had to prove you could provide?”

Bucky flopped his head back against the pillow with a groan, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment, and I laughed at his chagrin.

“I knew it was weird,” he said. “But it made it hurt less. To know I could… provide for you in some way. Sorry. I know I sound like a knothead.”

“Don’t apologize. That blanket will be perfect for our nest,” I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes. Bucky stiffened under me immediately at the thought. I giggled, and the Alpha rolled back on top of me in a flash, letting out a teasing growl as his arms caged me in.

I squirmed underneath him as he pressed gentle kisses down my neck, tongue laving across my scent glands, sending a jolt of arousal through my thoroughly relaxed body.  

“How do you smell so incredible?” he grumbled against my skin, inhaling deeply. I took the opportunity to move my hand down across his bare chest again, sneaking towards his waistband, but Bucky caught my hand again gently, lacing our fingers together. He stopped his ministrations against my glands, and lifted his face up to meet mine again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But will you stay?”

I nodded then, feeling suddenly shy and exposed underneath him. I wiggled down off the bed to pull on my soft pants and pullover, leaving my bra and slick-soaked underwear on the floor, while Bucky tugged off his pants, leaving him in black boxer briefs that showed off the rippling muscles of his thighs. God. Damn.

As I curled up again next to him, pulling the blankets up and over the tangle of our legs, a bone-deep tiredness settled over me, my body finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to slip into sleep after weeks of insomnia. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, before looping his arms around me firmly and starting up his Alpha purr once again.

Tomorrow, we’d finish talking. Tomorrow, we’d figure out what was up with our strange connection. And tomorrow, it was my turn to make Bucky feel just as good as I had.

But right now? I nuzzled my face into his chest, savoring the cent of cedar and bonfire, and knew—irrevocably— that I was finally home.  

[fatbottombucky]

Thank You’s Go A Long Way *Steve Rogers x Reader*

@moonlight-mindfulness​ Requested: Steve working with a reader with intrusive thoughts (the depression/PTSD kind) and just giving her all the warmth and attention she needs whenever she feels bad, but also Reader being badass and just super sassy to him whenever she is in good spirits. I also just always like self care or someone helping the other w self care in fanfic. In case you want a steamy scene you could write her "Thank you" to him that evening 👀😏

Pairing: Steve Rogers x [F]Reader

Ratings: [+18] MATURE CONTENT

Warnings: Rough days and thoughts. Depression can be a bitch, tad angsty due to that. MAJOR F L U F F! Male Oral Receiving, cause lol

Notes: This... is way longer than I planned. Also, I haven’t written for Steve in a hot second. So, if this terrible... I apologise. - Rosalie 

Requests are still open; men and female requests welcomed. I do want some female marvel character requests, got a lot of dudes, so c’mon...

24 HOURS EARLIER

“Oh, this was a bad idea,” Steve muttered into your ear over the loud gun shots being fired in your direction. 

You don’t answer, so he looks towards you to see your cheeky smile. It almost makes him think this is perfectly fine, almost. You peek around the table you’re both behind, you almost get your head blown off and you have the audacity to laugh. 

This is exciting to you, exhilarating even and that’s always confused Steve, but he feeds off of your energy. You have this thrill seeking attitude towards missions. It’s both a gift and a cruse for him, because his reckless nature combined with your thrill seeking: it’s a deadly combo. 

But you are both always trying to outdo one another, it’s a sick challenge. 

“So, what’s the plan?” 

He looks down at you with raised eyebrows, wide eyes and a gobsmacked face, he’s meant to have a plan? For the shit you caused? The shit-eating grin you grace him with makes his heart flutter, but he’s not letting you off that easily. 

“You’re Captain America,” you state obviously, “so man with a plan, let’s get outta here.” 

He shakes his head dramatically, licking his lips as he looks over the table. There’s a drastic difference in bodies in this room, this whole operation was meant to be shutting down this organisation- collecting information too. Only it was shit from the get-go, for some reason instead of calling for back-up you both went further down in the bunker. 

Now you’re both stuck. 

“Still want to get that intel?” He asks you and you frown, tilting your head slightly, “I can hold them off, there’s a door just there,” he nods to behind you, “there’s a computer in there. You should be able to hack into them and get some kind of intel we can use.” 

You begin to shake your head, “no way. There’s like thirteen of them, Steven. You’re gonna get seriously hurt.” 

“Not if you’re quick, I’ve calculated the probability and it’s doable,” you roll your eyes, “better me than you, okay? We either go back empty handed or we get some type of information on these assholes.” 

You only nod once at him, turning towards the door and deeply breathing. You look over your shoulder and cheekily smile at him, adding a wink for extra flare. 

4 HOURS EARLIER 

“Will you quit squirming?” You scold the man-child before you, he huffs loudly and sulks as you clean his shoulder. 

He winces when you press the cloth to the wound, “It stings.” 

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you get shot!” You exclaim and shake your head when he pouts. 

The Quinjet’s sink is covered in Steve’s blood and bloody gauzes, Steve watches as you use the small medkit to patch up his wound. Your eyebrows are knitted together, tongue poking out in concentration. 

The gunshot no longer hurts or stings, his body already healing it for him. It looked worse than it felt, he knew that, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Honestly, it was a lucky shot and a fluke he even got hit. 

“Done.” You begin to close the sewing kit and smile at him, ruffling his golden hair. 

“Thank you,” he grabs your wrist and kisses it tenderly, it causes you to scrunch your nose and make a gagging noise at his tenderness. “You’re so fucking mean,” he playfully pinches your side, you flip him off before heading out of the small bathroom and back to the cockpit. 

PRESENT TIME

Your mind raced over yesterday’s events. How you managed to remain calm at the fact Steve got shot was a surprise, especially since your hands are shaking now. The same hands that masterfully sewed the bullet wound shut. Stopped the bleeding and cleaned him up. 

This is your normal. Why the hell are you crying now? Getting shot on a mission is basically a normal date night for you both... 

A soft knock is sounded through your apartment, you make no move to get out of bed, even when whoever it is knocks a couple more times. If they’re someone important or it’s serious they’d have a key... it seems they do. 

The front door creeks open, keys are thrown into the glass bowl with all your change and keychains. Shoes are toed off, a jacket is being hung up on the hooks and then soft padding of footsteps are echoing towards your bedroom. 

Door is pushed open, a tall figure is illuminated from the hallway lights. A sigh escapes you, it’s only Steve, your boyfriend, so it’s all okay.  He’s fine, he doesn’t look angry even. 

“You look snug,” He comments softly as he crawls onto your bed, laying over your covers and manoeuvring himself to laying beside you and facing you. 

You’re silent in response, staring at your hands that are pulling threads at your blanket. Steve doesn’t speak again, choosing to remain quiet but he lifts a hand to tentatively play with your hair- you look at him and he gives a questioning glance, you shrug softly and he continues. 

His fingers rub your scalp softly in circular motions, smiling when you scoot a little closer towards him. You don’t often let people touch your hair/head(head if you have a shaved head like me), but when you do it’s comforting and relaxing; could almost make you fall asleep. 

“How is your shoulder?” your voice is barley above a whisper. 

“Perfectly healed,” you nod once, “hey,” somehow his voice is even softer than before, “wanna do face-masks and eat chocolate?” 

You raised an eyebrow, you felt really lethargic but nod. Steve leans over and kisses you softly before getting off of the bed, he switches on the fairy lights twirled around your headboard. You watch as he walks towards the bathroom and rummaging around in your cabinets. 

It’s a full two minutes before he returns and puts the masks in his back pocket, he extends a hand out to you causing you to shake your head slightly. You didn’t want to leave the bed, you wanted to stay in bed. 

“We have to leave the bed, Y/N,” you sigh and sit up, he chuckles when you make grabby hands for him- no way are you going to walk. He lifts you up effortlessly in his arms, “the bed is where monsters lie and you can’t listen to those.” 

He sits you on the sofa and then settles beside you, silent as he crosses his legs and opens the packet of face-mask. A bag of snacks are on the coffee table. Between sitting up and looking through the contents of food the Netflix theme startles you, you faintly smile as he searches for Brooklyn Nine Nine. 

He tells you that he’s going to put your face-mask on for you, your heart swells as he gently pats the cold paste around your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. 

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but you don’t have it in you. 

“Even with a cucumber mask on making me look like Shrek?” 

He nods sweetly, “You’re the Fiona to my Shrek,” as you put his on for him. “Sam is Donkey,” he mutters faintly and you giggle. 

“Who is Buck?”

“Puss in Boots,” you frown and huff a laugh, “he’s always been the cool cat and the one ladies fawn after.” 

You smile softly, “but Shrek gets the princess. Not always about looks, Steven.” He nods with a shy grin, a blush forming on his cheeks at your implication. 

Sitting in silence and watching Brooklyn Nine Nine with snacks, you couldn’t ask for a better distraction. Steve keeps a hand on your thigh, softly drawing patterns on your skin. Everything about this is perfect. 

After twenty minutes Steve helps wash your mask off in the kitchen sink, laughing when you wipe your wet face on his shirt. 

“I didn’t bring spare clothes with me,” he whines. 

“I have shirts I stole from you in my room,” he gasps in mock shock at you, following you back to the bedroom where you show him your stash of his clothing. 

It’s almost comical at how many shirts and joggers you have of his. Not that he minds, of course. You wearing his clothes is a favourite of his, he loves seeing you randomly in his stuff.  *** After almost a whole season worth of Brooklyn Nine Nine you’re both back in your bed, facing one another and talking aimlessly into the darkness. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hey,” he wraps an arm over your body and pulls you towards him, “I love you. I’m not going to let you suffer in silence, especially not alone. So if you need to lay in bed in silence all day, then we’ll do it together. But I know how the mind works, twists thing and being in bed can be damaging too. Those monsters lie to you, so I couldn’t let it keep talking.” 

You lean forward and press your lips to his gently, a surprise grunt rises from the back of his throat. Your hand settles on his jaw, stroking lightly as you deepen the kiss. 

After a few minutes of making-out you push on Steve’s shoulder forcing him to settle on his back, you slyly smile as you lay over him and push the covers down as you travel down his body too. 

“Y/N,” his breathless voice has you smirking, “you don’t have to.” 

Judging by his breathy voice and obvious reaction to the potential possibility has you curving an eyebrow, his shoulder shrug in response and you chuckle. 

“It’s a thank you,” you pull his briefs down, “you’ve been so good to me today, treated me so nicely.” 

Before he can respond you lick a broad strip up his length, a guttural groan leaves his lips loudly. You smile proudly before getting back to work, lapping at the tip teasingly before taking him into your throat. You can’t fit all of him in your mouth, a slight gagging sound emits from you when he lifts his hips up to meet your mouth. 

You pull back up, gasping slightly and working him with your hand. Licking at his length as you sped up your hand movements, smiling when he moans your name loudly, hand finding the back of your head; a silent plea for your mouth to replace your hand. 

Accepting that you take him down again, bobbing your head and hallowing your cheeks. “Fuck,” he grunts rather loudly, “stop!” He whines and you slowly pull off him, your tongue staying on the tip as you watch him clam down. “Can we-Do you wanna?” 

You climb up his body, hand still wrapped around his cock, “You don’t think my thank you was enough?” The question is paired with a coy smile. 

“More than enough, but I wanna express my gratitude for looking after me yesterday.” 

Please leave a nice comment/ like, maybe reblog? Any communication would be awesome :) I had my BETA help with the oral scene because... never sucked a dick lmao bye *peace sign* Let me know what you think! - Rosalie

[talk-geek-to-me]

Betrayal

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader. eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety. depression, abandonment, hella angst man, fluff, second-hand embarrassment, swearing, some violence, but it’s super mild. I think that’s about it.

Word Count:4,359 (I’m so not sorry)

Disclaimer: I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out!! Life’s kinda really crazy rn. I’m moving across the country and I’m trying to keep up with school. It’s a super busy life rn. But I really hope you guys enjoy it!! It’s probably not as good as I hyped it up to be. There is totally enough room for me to make a part 2 but, Idk. With how I left it, I think it doesn’t need it. But I hope you guys love it as much as I do!! @buckysknifecollection​ prompt is in bold.

*** = time has passed

~~~= same day. different perspective 

"I'll be back, I promise" Steve caressed your cheek, lips quickly brushing against yours, pulling away just as fast as they came. He staggered away from you, getting one last look.

Your brows pulled together in confusion, eyes searching his blue ones, only finding determination instead of love and care that was there a few days ago. You watched him hug Bucky and head towards the Quantum Tunnel.

Once Steve was in place, he glanced at you, heartbreaking at your confused stare. He knew if he had given you a real kiss, he wouldn't find it in him to go back. He knew he wouldn't be able to provide the answers to your questions you'll be cursed with.

"Gonna miss you buddy" Bucky stood next to you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

"It's gonna be ok Buck" your gaze snapped between the super soldiers.

"What?" You stepped away from Bucky, looking at Sam for an answer, only for him to meet your gaze with an equally confused look.

"Going Quantum in 5...4...3..2..1" Bruce counted.

"Wait-" You stepped towards the machine. You felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist, gently tugging you back. You snapped your head to Bucky, finding his baby blue eyes are filled with sadness and guilt. You stopped struggling.

"Bringing him back in 5..4..3..2..1" Bruce pushed a series of buttons before looking up at the platform to find it empty.

"Where is he?" Sam barked, eyes flicking to you before going to Bruce.

"I don't know, he must've blown past his time" panicking, Bruce began typing different combinations in hopes it would do something.

A few seconds passed, but to you, it felt like hours before your hope vanished and was replaced with pain. Your heart breaking when you realized that Steve left you for her.

Tears pricked your eyes, compromising your vision. A ringing filled your ears, muffling the conversation around you.

Turning on your heel, you quickly made your way towards the cabin, tears now spilling into hot streams down your cheeks. You yanked own the screen door just to slam it shut behind you. The echo of it made Sam and Bucky turn towards where you had disappeared.

"How long do you think she'll be upset?" Bucky sighed, the guilt in his eyes traveling to his heart.

"I don't know man, I don't know.. She'll need us though. C'mon, we gotta catch her before she leaves us here" Sam made his way towards the cabin, stopping to put the shield by the door.

Stepping inside, Sam found you scrambling around, grabbing your jacket, bag and the car keys that had been discarded on the coffee table before you had ventured to the platform.

"Y/N" Sam stepped in front of you, hands up, showing he meant no harm. His voice soft. "You're not suitable to drive, please let me."

You glanced at him before your eyes landed on the Brunette leaning against the car. He immediately opened his arms for you. 

Lips quivering, you placed the keys in Sam's hand and bounded down the stairs and straight into Bucky's arms. Safely in his arms, your shoulders began to shake, and sobs broke out of your throat. His hand cradled the back of your head, keeping you close. Tears formed in his eyes, making him hide his face in your hair. He didn’t feel the same pain you felt, but he did know how you were feeling. Steve didn’t just leave you, he left him, Sam, his friends, the family he created here. 

Sam had made his way to you two when you felt another pair of arms wrap around you. It was going to be hard, but you can get through this... Together.

***

Due to the compound getting rebuilt and thanks to Sam’s good heart, he took you and Bucky to his DC home. Even when you reassured him that you’d be fine and find your own place to stay, but he insisted you stay with him.

Inevitably, you locked yourself in the room Sam had given you. Bucky had tried to get you to come out, but each try left him with silence. Eventually, he’d leave a tray of food out your door, checking every few hours to see if you’d eaten any. At first, you didn’t. Soon enough, he’d found the plate had been picked at.

It was weeks, 3 to be exact, before you decided to venture out of your room. 

Sam was the first person to greet you one Friday morning. He handed you a cup of coffee and wrapped an arm around you in a side hug.

“How are you holding up?” He ruffled your hair before he moved back to the other side of the counter.

“I’m okay, been sleeping a lot, crying... Ya know, depression stuff” Bringing the cup to your lips, reveling in the warmth the coffee provided as it coursed through your body before it settled in your stomach. You scanned the house, looking for a certain Super Soldier. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Dimwit went on a milk run. We were running out of ideas of bringing you out of that room.” He places a small bowl of yogurt Parfait in front of you.

“Dimwit?” You giggled over a mouthful of berries and yogurt.

“He’s been getting on my nerves.” 

As if on queue, Bucky steps through the front door, drawing all attention to him. His eyes met yours, and a smile blessed his lips.

“Oh my god," He quickly set the bags down, the sound of plastic bags and cans hitting the table filled the room before he quickly made his way to you. Engulfing you in a hug, he lifted you off the barstool and twirled around earning giggles to escape your lips. “When did you come out of your room?” He sat you back on the stool, stealing your coffee in the process.

“Actually, just about 20 minutes ago.” He glanced at Sam, who confirmed your statement with a nod.

“Good! I bought movies and junk food. So, go” He pulled you off your chair “Go shower and change”

“Please!” Sam laughed as Bucky pushed you in the direction of the bathroom.

“Do I really smell that bad?” You pulled your shirt to your nose, crinkling it. You did smell that bad.

“Sweetheart, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you reek.” Bucky opened the door and lightly pushed you into the entryway.

“Wait, I don’t have any clothes” You turned to make your way back to your room, but the Assassin was in your way.

“Don’t. I’ll do it. Just shower” He pressed his lips to your forehead, and quickly padded off to your room.

You turned towards the mirror, your brows were slightly raised, mouth turned in a slight smile, and cheeks faintly dusted with pink. “What the fuck just happened?” you questioned. Sighing when you got no answer, you turned on the shower and waited for it to warm.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, slowly coming to the realization of how bad you looked. Bags under your eyes from lack of sleep and crying too much, skin pale and greasy, lips insanely chapped that no amount of chapstick would fix. You didn’t look or feel like yourself. Depression turned you into a different person, and you didn’t like her.

Fog crept its way across the mirror, eventually covering your reflection. Letting out a sigh you turned away from the mirror and began undressing.

You were about to step into the shower when a knock came at the door. Quickly wrapping a towel around yourself, you opened the door enough for you to see who it was.

“Um, I brought clothes” Bucky mumbled, eyes looking everywhere but you, a light blush cascading across his cheeks.

“Easy there Sarge, don’t get too excited” You giggled, taking the neatly folded clothes. Fingers brushing against his, sending another shade of red up his neck. “Thank you, Bucky”

“Yea, of course, um..I’m just gonna” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder indicating he was going to leave.

Nodding, you closed the door and laid out the clothes. Noticing that he didn’t bring you jeans but had brought you your favorite joggers and a tank top, made you smile. One that reached your eyes.

“He cares”

***

Stepping into the living room, you found the boys dressed the same; sweatpants and t-shirts. They were standing in the middle of the living room, yelling at each other. Movies scattered on the coffee table, food placed in the middle. 

Giggling, you moved around Sam and plopped down on a couch and scanned through the selection. 

You popped it in the DVD player and let the opening scene stop the bickering behind you.

"The Mummy?" Sam question

"Yes, because you two wouldn't shut up. So please, sit down and enjoy the beauty of Brendan Fraiser." 

It went on like this for weeks. Watching movies, arguing who got to pick the movie.

Soon enough, you started feeling better, well enough that you started jogging with the boys in the morning. 

***

It was 5 am when Wanda called you, pulling you from a blissful sleep.

"Maximoff, I swear, if you're not dying, I'll kill you." You huffed, moving towards the heat source in your bed.

Laughing at your empty threat, you could hear Strange tell her to calm down even though he was chuckling himself. "The compound is finished, you guys can move in today"

"You couldn't wait till a decent hour to tell me this?" You groaned. Feeling an arm wrap around your middle, you looked up finding confused baby blue eyes locked onto your features. 

"Wanda" You mouthed earning a nod from the super-soldier. His arm slide up your back and cold metal hand under the strap of your tank top.

"Well, I had just gotten off the phone with Pepper and-" She was still talking but Bucky had plucked the phone out of your hand and pressed it to his ear.

"We'll be there later Wanda, goodnight," Bucky said. You could hear her gasp and begin to talk, only to be cut off by Bucky hanging up.

"Bucky" you lightly scolded as he pulled you closer to him after throwing your phone to the other side of your bed. 

"Sweetheart, its 5 am and I plan on” He moved to hover over you, fitting between your legs, hips resting against yours, forearms supporting him. “Spending a bit more time with you before the sun rises.” 

Smiling at his comment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands falling into his hair. “Well Sarge, the sun is beginning to rise and Sam will want to know.”

Bucky scanned your face as he brushed stray hair away from your face, smiling softly when you leaned into his touch. “I know. Are you feeling better?

You nodded, pulling him closer to you. “I feel” you brushed his nose with yours “So much better, thank you” 

“My pleasure” He closed the small gap between you with a kiss.

A couple of hours later, you had packed your things and were packing the car when the boys came out of the house, bickering about who's driving. 

"I'm not letting you drive, Grandma, and little miss speedster over there will kill us!" Sam shouted, taking the keys out of Bucky's hand. His head snapped towards you, feigning a hurt expression.

“I’m an assassin!” Bucky exclaimed

"You stole my steering wheel and that makes you an assassin?" Sam joked

"Boys! Listen, you both drive super slow, so I'm driving" Snatching the keys out of Sam's hand, you slide into the driver's seating. 

The drive to the compound was a long one. You may drive fast, but with Sam and Bucky arguing over the music, it felt longer. On many occasions during the drive, you had slapped Sam’s hand away from the radio and asked the boys to stop arguing.

Arriving at the new compound was like arriving at Disneyland. The boys had stopped arguing and stared in awe as you pulled up. It was bigger, more windows, a pool. Everything the old one had, this one had too. It was just bigger.

Parking the car, your door was immediately ripped opened and you were being pulled out into the crisp October air, and into a certain witch’s arms. 

“I missed you so much!” Wanda squealed, tightening her grip on you.

“Wanda, I missed you too. But I think I’m going to miss breathing if you don’t let me go” You wheezed as she released her hold on you. She looped her arm through yours, pulling you away from the car. But not before she shot a glance at Bucky, wiggling her eyebrows as if she knew what had happened the night before.

“What the hell happened last night?” Wanda questioned as she leads you to the compound.

~~~

“Hey,” Sam tossed Bucky his bag “Is she ok?”

“Yea, she was in one of those depression moods that I used to get” He watched you and Wanda interact with each other before Strange came up to the two of you.

“You stayed the night in her room, man. What was that about?”

“She asked me to stay. I wasn’t going to leave her alone with her thoughts” Leaning against the car, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Sam.

“I see you two getting close,” a smirk was forming on the new Captain’s lips “I saw the kiss before we packed the car” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at the Sergeant. 

“Oh, c’mon man! You weren’t supposed to see that!” exclaimed Bucky as he hit his shoulder, making Sam laugh.

“Ohoho! Then don’t do it in the middle of the living room!” Sam's smirk turned to a wicked grin "And when you kissed her hand in the car, or the time you held her while she made dinner! Or-!" He was cut off when Bucky threw his sweatshirt at him. 

“C’mon man!” Bucky laughed, a light pink dusted his cheeks.

“Or! the shower incident” Sam faked a gasp, a smile broke across his face as the former Winter Soldier turned a bright red.

~~~

“That’s all that happened last night” You explained to Wanda, who didn’t believe you despite what you confirmed.

“Yea? Then why is he turning into a tomato over there” Strange pointed towards the car. 

Turning towards the car, you saw and could hear Sam howling with laughter, and Bucky? Well, Strange was right. Bucky’s face was, in fact, turning into a tomato. 

“I-I don’t know. Sam likes to pick on him sometimes.” You mumbled, brows furrowed together as you watched Sam lean against the car for support and Bucky hide his smile behind his hand.

***

It was around midnight when you decided to sit in the living room, music softly floating through the tv speakers. Footsteps drew closer, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ya know, it’s not polite to play music without someone who was alive when it came out” Bucky’s voice came closer until you feel the couch dip with his weight, signifying he was sitting next to you.

"I thought you were asleep" You countered, shifting to lean on him, back to his side, your head laid on his shoulder. Bucky had moved his arm around you and had begun tracing designs on your arm.

"I don't sleep when you're not next to me" He mumbled into your hair. Your heart skipping a beat, a blush crept across your cheeks, and you began to relax more against him.

Sitting in comfortable silence, you two were enjoying Frank Sinatra’s Come Fly With Me play when Bucky cleared his throat.

“Wanna dance?” 

You looked up at him, seeing a smirk playing on his lips, making you smile.

“You gonna dance with me as you did with those girls in the 40’s Sarge?” You watched him stand and hold out his hand. “Cause I wouldn’t say no”

“Come here then,” Placing your hand in his, he pulled you to your feet. Sliding his hand around your waist, it rested it on your lower back. His gaze shifted to the distance between you two, and back to your eyes. “We’re gonna have to get a lot closer than this, Sweetheart.” Feeling his grip tighten on your waist, you sucked in a breath when he pulled you closer. Chest pressed against his.

“Now we dance,” Bucky began swaying, his eyes never leaving yours. He led you in a classic waltz, occasionally spinning you, earning giggles to escape your lips.

Pulling you tight against him, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand falling on his shoulder, savoring the moment. 

“I need to tell you something” Bucky whispered in your ear.

“Of course Buck, what’s wrong?” Worry laced your voice

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I just need to get something off my chest” Breaking apart from you, he ran his hands nervously through his hair.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You took a step towards him.

“ty oblegchayesh' zhizn' kazhdyy den', ty vyyavlyayesh' luchsheye vo mne. Ya snova nachinayu chuvstvovat' sebya staroy. ya vlyublyayus' v tebya” Bucky panicked, eyes searching yours.

“Bucky, you’re speaking Russian” Bucky has never seen a more confused face than yours at this moment.

“I panicked!” He exclaimed

“If your plan was to throw me off, then it worked!” You laughed, stepping closer to him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “James, tell me what you said”

Hearing his first name roll off your tongue, made his worry disappear. He wrapped his arms around your waist, rubbing little circles in your back.

“I said,” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before looking you in the eyes. “You make living every day easier, you bring out the best in me, Sam’s noticed it. I’m starting to fall in love with you Sweetheart. I know it’s not the right time, but I wanted to tell you”

“Bucky-”

“No, I need to tell you. I need you to know and if you don’t feel the same then-”

“Bucky!”

“It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I totally get it” He rambled. Realizing he wasn’t going to give you a chance to talk, you crashed your lips to his. 

You two have kissed many times before, but this is different. You don’t know when you realized you had feelings for him, but you do know that he’s always been there for you. He’s made everything easier. Easier to breathe, to get over you know who, to adjust. Somewhere in there, you’ve grown feelings for him.

Pulling away, you rested your forehead against his. “I feel the same way”

“Really?” Bucky’s face nearly tore in two when the words filled his ears.

“Really” You agreed.

~~~

A crashing noise pulled Sam out of sleep. He poked his head out his door, finding yours and Bucky’s door opened and music coming from the living room. Sam decided that he didn’t want to know what it was, so he headed back to bed, but a light outside his window caught his attention. Ripping the shades opened, he saw a familiar figure standing on the Quantum Tunnel platform. Doubt filled him, there was no way he was back... Right?

Watching the figure look around, Sam ran out of his room, as quietly as he could, down the back staircase and out to the backyard

“Sam?” The figure called.

"Steve? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the 40's" Sam questioned.

"I know. Peggy and I.. We didn't work out. It wasn't right. Peggy wasn't-" Steve began, his mind racing.

"Wasn't what Steve?"

"She wasn't y/n" Steve sighed. He knew Peggy wasn't you the second he got to her house. He knew you two are very different, but everything she did, he found himself silently comparing her to you. She was a spy, and you were an Avenger. When she spared it was quick, but when you spared it turned into a competition. Everything Peggy did, Steve found himself missing the things you did. There was a hole in his life and only you could feel it.

"Steve-"

"I need to see her" Steve interrupted, making his way towards the door Sam came out of.

"What? No, Steve. Don't" Sam followed the former Captain, trying to catch up with how fast he was walking. When did he walk so fast?

"Sam, I messed up. I left her when I shouldn't have, I have to make it right" Steve called from the stairs. Sam ran up the stairs behind him and grabbed his arm when he caught up to Steve.

"You don't understand. She's changed, she's not the same girl who loved you. She's.." He hesitated "She's moved on Steve."

"I need to see her" Steve persisted, pulling his arm out of Sam's grip and headed down the hall towards the living room. Dread filled Sam, slowly following the First Avenger.

~~~

“We should probably go to bed” Bucky mumbled into your neck. You two had found your way back to the couch after your confession. 

“Or we could stay and sleep here. We’re already laying down” You raked your fingers through his hair, grabbing a few strands and began braiding the brown locks. A door being slammed open pulled you two apart. 

“It’s the middle of the night, who the hell is slamming doors?” Bucky reached behind the couch for the handgun he had hidden there. You were already on your feet, gun at the ready and heading towards the sound of intrusion.

“Wait! They might be asleep!” You heard Sam’s desperate pleas come down the hall.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” You lowered your gun, hearing two pairs of footsteps advance quickly towards you. Quickly raising your gun, you loaded the chamber and took aim. 

“What the hell” Bucky said from behind you, drawing your attention to him. Bucky’s eyes never left the intruder, confusion overcame you, and you looked at the intruder. Finding the person who you never thought you’d see again. Steve stepped closer to you, and you stepped away from him.

“Baby?” His voice was soft, too soft, foreign. Shaking your head, you stepped closer to Bucky.

“You don’t get to call me that” You hissed through gritted teeth. The confusion was replaced with anger. It took over you, your hands and voice shook. 

“Please let me explain, baby” Steve took a few more steps towards you, hands coming up to cup your face. He lowered his face to yours, hope-filled his entire being. 

“Steve” Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder “Don’t do that” The warning in his voice made Steve stand straighter.

“This is my girlfriend” Steve argued.

You let out a laugh that startled both boys. You continued to laugh until tears were evident in your eyes.

“That’s fucking hilarious Rogers, you think I’m your girlfriend?” Shaking your head, you stepped closer to Steve. He was taller than you by a foot, making him stare down at you. But by the way, he felt, you were staring down at him. Your eyes bore into his, rage radiating off you, and Steve could feel every ounce of it. “I haven’t been your girlfriend since the moment you decided to fucking leave. You don’t get to call me that. Don’t ever call me that, again” You pushed past him, shoulder hitting his arm hard enough to make him lose his balance.

“Baby, wait” He caught your arm. Twisting your arm out of his grip, you reeled around and connected your fist to his jaw. 

Hearing the crack, Bucky and Sam flinched, thinking that you broke Steve’s jaw with how fast you reacted and how fast his head snapped to the side.

“Damn” Sam mumbled, looking at Bucky “That’s your girl man”

Pride filled his body, Bucky stood a little taller “I know”

“Get it through your head, Rogers! I’m not your girlfriend! I’m not yours! Don’t touch me” You hissed. Turning on your heel, you stormed down the hall towards your room, slamming the door shut when you were inside.

Steve rubbed his jaw, feeling the serum begin to heal his jaw, looking at his friends before his eyes landed on the Brunette, “Looks like your hair is getting a bit long.. Operation Haircut?”

“When you decided you’re done with Operation Jackass, then I’ll consider Operation Haircut” Bucky scoffed, following the trail of rage to your bedroom, entering it without knocking.

Slowly closing the door to your room, Bucky found you sitting on your bed, eyes closed and taking deep breaths. 

“Sweetheart?” He whispered, fearing the nickname might make you snap. But it only brought you comfort.

“Bucky” Your voice shook, opening your eyes, they landed on his form, kneeling next to your bed. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Why is he back?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t know sweetheart,” He paused, searching for the right thing to say before deciding on distracting you, “You know, that was a really good punch. It looked like you nearly broke his neck with how hard you hit him”

The burden of heartbreak left your chest and in its place, laughter made its home. “I had someone teach me how to throw a punch hard enough to break a jaw” You gripped his hand tighter, referencing to him.

“Yea? He did a damn good job” Lifting himself, Bucky sat on your bed, pulling you against him.

“Yea. He did” Relaxing against the Former Hand of Hydra, you finally begin to feel at peace with yourself. You made the decision right there that it was always Bucky. He was your rock before and after Steve left, he was the light in a dark room. He knew that you could take care of yourself, but when you need it, he’s there for you. You, too, had begun to fall in love with him. People would be against it, due to him being the Winter Soldier, but you didn’t care. He didn’t think he was a hero, but you? He was your hero.

Tagging: @parkerpuff​ @blameitonthecauseway​ @chocolate-cutting​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @sebastian-i-stan​ @intense-sneezing​ @welcome-to-my-broken-sanctuary​ @siren-queen03​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @teamcap4bucky​ @buckysknifecollection​ @neglectedleo​ @dyanna-corona​ @crist1216​ @delicatecapnerd​ @twilight-crescendo​ @weebid​ @lucaslikestojinglebells​ @wxntersoldiers​ @breakmebucky​ @lecoindenox​

[flightyrock]

Plastic Bridges- posting begins Oct 31!

Hi all!  This is late, but since i start posting in less than two weeks, it’s time for a sneak peek of my CapBB fic, Plastic Bridges!

It’s a Detroit Become Human AU Stucky fic featuring former soldier Bucky and android Steve.  It sort of takes place before and during canon events of the video game, but i take a lot of liberties.  You don’t need to know anything about DBH to understand and enjoy the story, but DBH fans will probably recognize a few easter eggs.  Familiar faces are mostly from the Marvel side of things with a few DBH character cameos.

The snippet below is rated T with warnings for a brief flashback which mentions drowning.  The fic in its entirety will be rated M or E, not sure which is more appropriate yet.  See the end note for more details about posting and tags.  Enjoy!

~~~

At 7:20 the next morning, right after choking down the requisite couple of bites of the gluey institutional oatmeal that hadn’t changed since he was a kid, a nurse delivers the clothes was wearing on the night of the accident and a set of discharge papers.  Fortunately, it’s a human nurse.  “Thanks,” Barnes says.  

The nurse inclines his head.  After Barnes initials the last line, he says  “I’ve already left instructions with your caretaker.  He’s waiting outside.”

“Good,” Barnes says, exchanging the signed sheaf for the bundle of clothing, and waving off the offer of help before trudging over to the bathroom.  After he’s changed into the freshly laundered t-shirt, joggers, and his usual unlaced combat boots, he’s bullied into the customary wheelchair ride out the front doors.  Despite his protests, he’s almost in a good mood.  The wall of fresh air that hits his face is glorious, and he almost doesn’t mind being blinded by the morning sun.

But then his vision clears, revealing a figure in perfectly pressed clothing, standing in a flawless example of parade rest.  All he sees is blue; the standard holographic variety coloring the triangle emblazoned above its left breast, the band encircling its right arm, and the circular LED embedded in its temple.  

“Ready to go, Sergeant?” a deep but bland voice intones politely.  

Its eyes are blue too, a more natural shade, but easily as striking.  Like the ocean on a clear sunny day, and no less reflective, picking up the lighter shades on its clothing.  But unlike the ocean, there is no promise of life in these depths.  Their gaze is empty.  So empty, threatening to pull Barnes in and down and hold his head under the water, drown him, he needed to get out let him out-

“Sir?”  

Barnes jolts back, the android suddenly uncomfortably close.  He turns his head uncomfortably over his shoulder, locking eyes with the supervising nurse. “Take me back,” he croaks, then clears his throat.  “Please, take me back inside.”

“I’m sorry?” the nurse says.  

“I’m not going anywhere with that thing,” Barnes spits.  

“What?”  The nurse’s stare is almost as blank as the android’s.  Then something clicks, and he has the gall to look amused.  “Its appearance is fully customizable, you know,” he chuckles.

“I don’t care about that, idiot,” Barnes growls.  “I care about the fact that it’s a machine.  Can’t you see how creepy it is?  I don’t want it anywhere near me, let alone in my apartment!”

The nurse, to his credit, attempts to look contrite, but amusement still sparkles in his eyes.  “I’m afraid you don’t have any choice.  You’ve already been transferred to its care.”

“By who?” Barnes demands.

The man’s eyes narrow.  “By you.  Didn’t you read the paperwork?”

~~~

First chapter goes up Oct 31st on AO3!

Additional details: Rating is going to be either M or E, with Archive Warnings for graphic depictions of violence.  It will also contain heavy themes and events that may be potentially triggering or disturbing for some readers, so remember to take a look at the tags before reading.  These will include depiction of a self-harm attempt, past torture, anxiety, depression, dehumanization, systematic oppression, bit of codependency, etc.  Don’t worry though, there’s a happy ending!

Full tags will be available on the 31st.  Feel free to PM me at any time with concerns, or to request additional details about tags and warnings.  I’ll release at least one chapter a day from Halloween to Nov 12.

Hope to see you then!

[captainchrisfics]

“Just wait.”

About: I’ve been having a lot of feelings about endgame lately and I figured the actors would be, too. So here’s a short and sweet little first person pov something about Chris returning home from wrapping filming.

Word Count: 1,524

I sat on the sofa trying to read a book instead of watching the clock tick, waiting for him to come home. It was getting late and I knew it was going to be a long day filming for Chris so I waited for him anxiously, knowing he’d need some comfort. All day I’d been trying to distract myself. I even cleaned the stove’s burners- do you know how desperate I have to be to scrub the stove top? Now I found myself staring at a page without reading the words as my eyes kept flicking to the digital clock on the television box, not even allowing a minute to pass before I checked again.

It had been 9:32 the last three times I looked when I heard the front door slowly creek open and the sound of Chris’ heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. My heart leapt into my throat as I dropped the book I barely even read, but I didn’t rush to him, concerned he would be overwhelmed by the million questions I’d been waiting to ask all day. Chris dropped his duffle bag, stuffed with the things he’d cleared out of his trailer, and leaned against the doorway. I’d grown so used to Chris without his costume it still surprised me to see his hair bleached to the classic Steve Rogers blonde. I started to speak, but the fatigue almost seeping from him stopped me. I bit my lip, hoping for some kind of sign as to how I could be there for him.

Chris dropped his head, allowing a sigh he seemed to be holding in for years finally escape his lips. “It’s really over, huh?” Chris lifted his head and, in the reflection of the dim light glinting in his eyes, I could see they were glassy. He was giving me that smirk, even though it was rather sad, and I knew he was trying to tell me he was okay. I jumped up from the couch, tossing my blanket and book haphazardly to the side as I all but ran to him. I wrapped my arms around Chris’s waist and pressed my cheek to his chest. He stood there stunned for a minute before enveloping me in his arms, his chest rumbling with a chuckle. “I’ve been waiting all day for this,” I sighed, finding comfort in the thump of his heart. “I never would have guessed,” Chris teased before he placed a kiss on the top of my head, reminding me that this was supposed to be the other way around. I was supposed to make him a warm cup of coffee, kiss his cheek, and tell him it was all going to be okay.

I pulled away from his hug and grabbed his face in my hands, searching for any hint of any kind of emotion, but he was just grinning. “How was it?” I asked. If it was me, and I had just wrapped filming for the last time on a project I had been involved with for nearly a decade, I’d be an inconsolable mess. But here he was, smiling from ear to ear even with fresh tears in his eyes. “Absolutely emotionally exhausting and incredibly depressing actually,” he said without his grin even wavering. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, probably looking pretty flabbergasted, and he just laughed and asked me what I was so confused by. “Because you had a terrible, emotionally straining day and you’re smiling like an idiot,” I scoffed like it was obvious. I realized I was still caressing his cheeks and dropped my hands.

Chris rolled his eyes and held them in his own. “Because it was great while it lasted, but it’s over now,” Chris sighed and then took a deep breath. “And,” he continued, tilting my head up to him with his forefinger under my chin, “no matter what role I play, I get to come home to you.” Chris’s grin melted into a smirk as he watched my cheeks erupt into flames. It was my turn to roll my eyes because, of course, he couldn’t resist being sweet enough to cause cavities.

I wrenched myself from his grip and sat back on the couch, curling my feet up and holding the blanket up. Chris took the hint and occupied the other half, pulling the covers over the two of us. I stuck my feet under his thigh, assuming our usual tv-binging position and really just enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you mind if we watch the first Avengers?” Chris asked almost hesitantly. He scratched the back of his head, looking at me hopefully. I nodded, flicking to Netflix and waiting for it to load. “In a nostalgic mood?” I asked. I wondered if it was something deeper. Chris hummed as if that was a response, so I stretched my toes under his leg to grab his attention. “What was that for?” Chris nearly yelped as he stared at me with wide eyes and eyebrows that were about to take off through the ceiling. I repeated my question, albeit through giggles.

“Oh, yeah…” Chris trailed off. I typed the movie’s name into the search bar and selected it. “It’s okay if you are,” I tried to reassure him. “It was a big part of your life with some of your best friends, it’s alright to miss it. Like high school,” I tried to joke. “It’s cool sneaking a couple drinks around your parents, not having to worry about bills, and seeing your friends in class every day.” Chris clutched his chest as he laughed, but the gesture was almost half-hearted. “But if that hadn’t ended, you wouldn’t be here. If this part of your life didn’t end, you wouldn’t get to where you’re supposed to be.” I was talking over the title sequence now, but neither of us was really watching.

Chris rubbed his chin, trying to scratch his nonexistent beard out of habit. “Guess you’re right,” he said, resting his elbow on my knee. I watched as he pushed his hair back, just admiring him. We didn’t say anything else for a while and I tried to just watch the film without worrying what Chris was going through, but that proved to be as good as impossible. Once I looked over, I saw a wistful smile on his face like he was watching a VHS tape of his first steps or his favorite Christmas. He broke out laughing, so genuinely happy it lifted the weight from my shoulders. We were at the part where Bruce became the Hulk and I wasn’t sure what was so funny until Chris started sharing all of these behind the scenes stories even I hadn’t heard before.

“And the wires malfunctioned or something so Hemsworth just went flying,” Chris finished, almost in tears. “I completely forgot half of that happened,” he sighed, still trying to catch his breath from all the laughter. I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

By the end of the Avengers marathon, that took even longer with Chris pausing every few scenes to tell another story which I didn’t mind too much, I think we both fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, I was laying on top of Chris, with his hand tucked into the waistband of my joggers and his other arm wrapped around me. I untangled myself from him and tried to walk as quietly as I could to the kitchen.

We’d been staying in this apartment we were renting while Chris was filming in Georgia. I began making breakfast for the two of us, even though I barely knew my way around this kitchen. I opened the cabinet where Chris had naturally put the pans on the highest shelf. Even on my tip toes, I could barely reach the pans, nudging them closer to the edge until they came clattering down to the floor in a loud crash that would’ve woken the neighbors, let alone Chris.

He came stumbling into the kitchen. Still groggy from sleep, he asked, “you okay?” I nodded as I picked the pans up from the floor. He bent down to help, slower than a sloth. “You scared me so badly,” he remarked with a voice that was still like sandpaper. “I’m sorry I dropped a pan. What’s the worst you could do?” I joked. Chris rubbed his eyes, processing my question. “Divorce you,” he concluded as he passed me everything he picked up. I started washing the pan I planned on using. I rolled my eyes as Chris wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on top of mine. “You’d have to marry me first,” I told him, trying to bottle up my impatience. I’ve been waiting for that to happen for a while now, which Chris finally started picking up on. “Just wait,” Chris said softly, showering the top of my head with light kisses. “Just wait.”

[mrsbarnesomg]

Gus (Bucky x Reader)

Request: can i have one where the reader has a kid and tells Bukcy about him or her? 

Words: 3,048

Warnings: mentions of depression, nightmares and anxiety, and the loss of a loved one 

this is written for my dog who got stolen. His name was Auggie and he was 10 months old when he was stolen, his 1st birthday was yesterday 

The thunder shook the tower. 

You were resting in an oversized hoodie, that you believed belonged to Steve, as well as a pair of short shorts that covered your ass and nothing else. You had been eating popcorn and watching Grey’s Anatomy with Wanda when Steve called you.

“Hey, Y/n?”

His voice broke through you and Wanda’s laughter, you had to wipe away a tear and bit your lip to stop you from grinning when you turned to face him. Your chin rested on the back of the couch and shoved a piece of hair behind your ear.

“What’s up, Cap?”

Wanda snickered at the sound of your voice; it was clear that you were hiding a giggle. She reached forward and paused the TV, not wanting either of you to miss out on the trauma scene.

You two had previously been checking out the one and only McDreamy, you were surprised at Wanda’s choice of words to describe the handsome man. You never thought such an innocent girl would have that much to say on a not so innocent topic.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” You pushed out your bottom lip in a pout and huffed. You did not want to have a ten-minute lecture on why you shouldn’t drink straight out of the carton again.

Before you could even open your mouth to speak Wanda flipped out, crossing her arms over the back of the couch and looking at Steve with big, and clearly pouty, eyes.

“Steven Grant Rogers. I am trying to have best friend bonding times with my best friend. Can this please wait until morning?”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and took a step further into the room, his eyes flicked between you and Wanda several times. Lightning flashed outside the floor to ceiling windows and lit up the dark room for only a second, the only thing that gave off light was the TV screen with McDreamy's face plastered across it.

His eyes moved back to you, despite you being distracted by a piece of popcorn before you jammed it in your mouth and looked over at him with a silly grin. He wanted to smile at your playfulness, but this was no laughing matter, he needed you. Now.

“Y/n. It’s Bucky.”

Nearly a minute later and you were marching alongside Steve down the sleeping hall. Your much shorter legs struggled to keep up with his long ones. You bounced a couple steps and for a split second, you were walking in sync. It didn’t last long.

“Nightmares?” Your once silly tone was now serious and saddened by the news Steve told you. A small frown tugged at the corners of your lips and a crease formed above your eyebrows.

You pushed back a strand of hair and trained your eyes on the back of Steve’s faded blue shirt, his back muscles were clear as day, although you weren’t attracted to the super soldier in the slightest.

He was basically your mom.

That would just be gross.

“What else?”

Of course, it was nightmares. Those haunted Bucky every single night.

Well most nights, at least.

Ever since you came into his life things were different. Bucky was happier and more at ease, his mood was changed based on the vibe that you would give off. Which for such a happy and carefree girl like yourself it was typically a good thing.

Your bedroom wasn’t in the normal sleeping hall, where all the other Avengers slept. Yours was on the other side of the tower, your room was right beside Tony’s room. Afterall you were his daughter, and he liked to keep his daughter close.

On days you spent a lot of time with Bucky he slept with little to no problems, but on the days you didn’t spend much time with him, or if you two disagreed about something or fought, then he would have nightmares all night long.

It was worse when you traveled. Being Tony’s daughter meant wherever he went, you went. And wherever you couldn’t go, it meant that your two dogs never left your side. It’s like you constantly had protectors. You were never alone.

You and Bucky’s relationship was amazing. You two relied on each other heavily and always made the other laugh or smile, he never failed to warm your heart or cause electricity surging up your arms every time his hand brushed against yours.

Expect there was one thing wrong with it.

You two weren’t necessarily together.

Even though you so desperately wanted to be.

“I think you’re one of the few people who would know how to make him feel better. He listens to you.” Steve stopped outside Bucky’s door, his voice lower and in a hushed whisper as he spoke.

He gently placed a hand on your waist and squeezed it lightly, a soft smile hinted at the corners of his once grime mouth.

“It’s not my decision, Y/n, but I think you should tell him.” You knew exactly what he was talking about. “I think him seeing how you dealt with pain and loss will help him in ways none of us are somehow able to tell him. It’ll give him hope.”

You looked up at his towering frame and returned his small smile, brushing back the same strand of hair that kept falling in your face, you took a small step forward and knocked on his door.

Steve was gone within seconds, disappearing around a corner the second you turned his door handle.

His room was dark, the curtains were drawn and blocked out both the lightning and the glow of the skyscrapers surrounding the tower. The covers were tossed off his bed, only a corner remained but it hung on by a thread. His sheets were frazzled and looked like he got tangled in them before fleeing out of bed.

His hair was messy. That was the first thing you noticed when your eyes finally landed on him, your expression softened and an aching feeling took place in your chest. Like a brick had just landed on it, it was like you could feel his own pain and suffering.

He wore a black t-shirt that hugged both his arms tightly. You could see him breathing in slow deep breaths by the way his back moved.

You shut the door behind you and took a small breath before stepping more into his sight.

“Hey, Buck.”

His eyes instantly landed on you. They did what they always did and swept over your body before landing on your eyes, holding your gaze with such intensity that you felt like he could read your mind.

It made you feel insecure in a way.

“Y/n.” His voice was raspy and broke at your name.

Your heart split in two and you just wanted to throw your arms around him and shove all the broken pieces back together. You wanted to take away the pain and the misery, you wanted him to be okay.

You slowly walked over to where Bucky sat on the edge of his bed. You noticed his grey joggers, they were the same ones that you borrowed and didn’t give back for nearly two weeks. You sat directly in front of him, your butt hitting the floor and the carpet rubbing against your thighs as you sat criss-cross.

You looked up at him carefully, you head tilting to the side as you observed his frantic expression, yet you took notice on how it was calming down; it never crossed your mind that it might be because of you.

“I want to tell you a story.”

The corners of his lips twitched at your words, it was like he wanted to smile but couldn’t bring himself to in his current state. You fiddled with your thumbs and took a deep breath.

“A bedtime story, huh, doll?”

This time you were the one who almost smiled.

Almost.

“Buck…” You trailed off and by the tone of your voice, Bucky knew that this was no happy story. “Have you ever heard the name...Augustus...before?”

He flicked his eyes to the side as he thought about the name. He knew it sounded familiar, he might of overheard Steve and Tony saying it a couple times, but he thought the name had no meaning behind it.

He shook his head slowly, and you took a couple moments of taking small breaths before continuing.

“Okay. Well…” You hesitated, the words wanted to come out, but you always got so emotional over this story. “Bucky, Augustus was my son. Is. Augustus is my son.”

You watched the look that crossed over his face. It was confusing and questionable, it was lost and distant as he scanned his memory trying to remember ever seeing you with a kid but he came up blank.

“I got pregnant when I was sixteen on the night of homecoming. I had a baby in April and I named him Augustus, but everyone called him Gus.” You watched his face for any sign of any emotion, but his face remained blank. Although you knew it was because he was listening very closely.

“You know, being pregnant when I was sixteen wasn’t the best thing ever, but I was lucky enough to have a supportive and very financially stable dad to help me through it. I didn’t know a lot when I was that age, but I did know that I wanted to keep my baby, and a huge reason for that is because I knew that I was more than capable of giving him a good life. If I was sixteen and didn’t live in the situation I lived in then I would’ve given him up for adoption because I knew one thing, and that was that I wanted my baby to have the best possible life he could ever have.”

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes once trained on your fiddling thumbs as you spoke with such passion yet such heartbreaking sadness.

“Gus.” He whispered the name, his head nodding in the slightest motion. “I like that name.”

You smiled, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip before you kept talking.

“Once Gus was born he quickly became the light of my life, I loved him more than I had loved anything else. I spent every second with him, and there was never a time that I left him. We became very attached to each other, which I never thought could be a bad thing. I posted a lot of pictures of him online, I thought the world would love him just as much as I did, and for the majority, they did.”

You fell silent, a dreadful feeling taking over your stomach and clenching your chest. It felt like you could feel your heart being ripped in half all over again, you remembered the day as if it was yesterday and sometimes it still feels that way.

“But as you know just as much as I, Bucky, there are some really bad people out there.”

You fiddled your thumbs faster and he took note, his eyes moving up and staring into your glassy eyes. Tears lined the rims and your lip quivered. He wanted you to look at him but all you did was keep your head turned and stared at the slightly open laptop sitting on his desk.

“He was ten months old when he was kidnapped. I was seventeen at the time and I had left him for only a few minutes. Everyone told me that he would be okay, all I wanted to do was go to an event with dad. I got dressed up and it was my first time out without him, which shows you how attached I was to him. I left him with a trusted babysitter and one of dad’s security guards.”

“Clearly, that was not enough. You know, dad had a lot of enemies, a lot of people wanted to hurt him and the only way they knew how to do that was to hurt me, and of course, the one way to hurt me was to hurt my baby.”

“I was gone for less than thirty minutes when I got the call that he had been taken. The babysitter had been drugged and the security guard was locked in a closet.”

Bucky shifted. His legs dragged out in front of him as he slowly pulled himself onto the ground in front of you, both of his legs were on either side of you as you continued to sit criss-cross. He reached forward and held your hand in his, his thumb stroked up and down the back of your hand.

The small motion sent warmth throughout your whole body, but it didn’t help the aching feeling in your tight chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him just yet.

You swallowed thickly and rolled your eyes in hopes that the tears lining your eyes would go away. You didn’t want to cry when you cried it made it hurt worse and you didn't want to feel the pain anymore.

“I wanted to die, Bucky. You have no idea how much I just wanted to die. The only thing that kept me alive was the fact that he was never found dead, so there was always a chance that he could still be alive. There’s a chance to this day that he could still be alive. That kept me alive; that saved my life.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and stroked your hand a little faster, you could feel his eyes boring into your cheeks but you didn’t turn to look at him just yet.

“Dad sent me to therapy and it helped a lot, I learned not how to forget but how to cope with the pain and the memory of him. I learned that the pain will never go away, and the only thing that will happen is me learning how to deal with it. Think of the good things, not the bad. There is still a chance that my baby boy is out there, and that keeps me going every single day.”

“Dad got me Baymax shorty after that. He was a puppy when I got him, but he helped in an emotionally supportive way. He also helped with the separation anxiety I got from Gus and I then became attached to dad and to Baymax. I still have separation anxiety, I can’t go without one or the other.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” His voice lured your eyes to look at him for the first time in a long time. You felt him try to read and understand the emotions hiding behind them.

“I’m telling you this because you have always known me for the happy and carefree girl that I show off to everyone.” You cocked your head and scooted forward, you were practically being cradled in his arms at this point. “But, my darling Bucky, I have as tragic as a past as you do.”

His eyes narrowed very slightly and for only a split second, but you saw it.

“You lost an arm. You fought a war. You were manipulated, beaten, broken, and used. You did horrible things, and you caused horrible pain.” You sat up straighter and cleared your throat; the tears were starting to become less visible. “That’s just the raw and sucky truth, Buck.”

He sat back, leaning into his bed as you watched and listened to you with a shocked expression. Not one person had spoken to him the way you were.

“I lost my son. I lost who I once was. I went through torture of my own; I went through depression, suicidal thoughts, and I am still going through the torture called anxiety. I went through pain and suffering, and I am still suffering to this day. I will forever have nightmares, I will forever have that god awful pain in my chest, I will forever have to deal with the fact that I wasn’t there to protect my son when he needed me the most.”

“We all have lost something, we all have been through something. Not one person’s past is better or worse than anybody else's. We all have demons, don't go comparing them to your own. It is your own damn choice if you choose to let it destroy you, or make you.”

You stood up suddenly, dropping Bucky's hand and putting your hands on each of your hips.

“My past does not control me anymore. My past does not define me. Remember that, it will help you, I promise.” You went to leave but you turned around for one last statement. “The pain is never going to go away, you just gotta learn how to live with it.”

Your hand had barely touched his door handle when he spoke up after a long time; his face had done all the talking.

“Y/n?” He hesitated, you could hear his soft breathing and the sound of it calmed your racing heart. He sounded unsure when he asked his next question, yet you could hear how desperate he was to know. “How old is Gus?”

You didn’t turn around to answer.

“He turned seven almost three days ago.”

He remained silent, and you went to turn the handle once again but he spoke up once again.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response and he hesitated again. He was cautious and careful about the questions he asked, he didn’t want to upset you but a part of him was dying to know more. “What did he look like?”

You couldn’t help the small that grew into something bigger the more you pictured his face.

“He had light brown hair, and it was curly too, just like his dad’s. But he had my eyes and my nose...dad said he had my smile too. Although I don't know if he could even tell at his age.” You laughed lightly at the thought of his sly little grin and the way his eyes would shine up at yours as if he was so innocent even after he would do something wrong.

“He was a Stark. You could tell.”

[phan-of-the-pen]

I Dare You To Stay: Chapter 7

alkfjfoijalkjdhfk I’m sorry this took so long for me to write but I was very busy and this got very long and I’m still not happy with it but here!!! read!!!

Tags for chapter: discussions and themes of aphobia, internalized aphobia, fluff, angst

Words for chapter: ~5.3k

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

<-- Previous chapter Next chapter -->

~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop being so smiley, you arse. It’s 6:30AM and you’re at work. Smiling should be illegal."

Dan snorted, taking a break from pouring coffee beans to shove Jaime with his shoulder, but he didn't even try to help the smile on his face.

Jaime only scowled deeper in response, sticking out her pierced tongue.

“You should take that out,” Dan said. “Health and Safety. Plus, you don’t want to scare the grandpas with your metal appendages”.

Jaime snorted. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. Leave my life. Goodbye. Ciao."

"Fine, then I guess you'll have to dye your hair by yourself. And gee, who are you going to talk to during your shifts? Steve? God, I think he’d have to take up my shifts, which puts the two of you together almost all the time," Dan said, walking away, trying to keep the grin out of his voice. He wasn't very successful, however, but then again, he hadn't actually tried very hard, either.

Jaime threw a cloth at him. It landed on his face, then fell to the ground.

“Health and Safety!” Dan screeched. “Is that floor mopped?”

She just rolled her eyes. "I've managed the first eighteen or so years of my life before you decided to jump in just fine without you, so go ahead, take your lanky ass outside along with your 'I'm getting off of work early' bullshit."

"Ahhh, the truth reveals itself," Dan tsked, shaking his head. “Jealousy is a sin, you know.” He was playing with her, and she knew it, but that didn't stop Dan from pulling out all of the stops, really hamming up his performance. He grabbed the keys off of the counter and walked to the glass entrance door, unlocking it and flipping over the sign to read: open.

Jaime was sitting on the counter, her arms crossed and that fake scowl of anger still on her face. Dan just pushed at her back, forcing her off.

"Come on, Grumps, we've got a job to do."

"We? What do you mean with that 'we'? You're the one leaving here early, Danny boy, so you get to do all the work this morning; it's only fair."

This time Dan was the one that scowled and Jaime just smirked, tapping his nose.

"Come on stupid, turn that frown upside down; Mary's about to walk in."

Dan sighed, drawing it out as much as possible, but immediately snapping out of it and throwing a smile on his face when he heard the bell chime on the store's door.

Mary was a sweet old lady that was at least in her 80's, and she always came into their coffee shop within the first few moments that they were open, everyday, without fail. She had the most acute sense of style, typically rocking your usual old lady jumper and pants, but every single day she had a different broach on. And before her, Dan hadn't even known that people wore broaches anymore. But nope, it appeared that Mary had no cares for which way fashion swayed, not to mention that she must have her own infinite supply of them to have a different one every day. Did she have some kind of broach dealer? Was that a thing?

Dan didn't really know the answer to that question, but she was incredibly kind and had pretty much adopted him and Jaime as her grandchildren, so Dan just made sure to compliment her on her choice of style.

She shuffled up to the counter, her usual smile already radiating even though it was way too fucking early for anyone to be doing anything instead of sleeping in Dan's opinion.

(Today her broach was a yellow-ish metal, an intricate flower melded into it. It looked like lavender.)

"Hello, love, how are you today?"

"Oh, hello, Mary. And I'm tired, but I'm doing fine, thank you." Dan said. He had already started making her coffee. She ordered the same thing every time.

"Tired? Daniel, what did I say about staying up late on the internet? You're a growing boy! You need your sleep!" she cried. Dan smiled, not missing how she called him 'Daniel', but it wasn't like Dan minded it, coming from her. She was like the grandmother Dan never had. Maybe that was why he liked her using his full name even if his nametag said 'Dan'. It was more personal.

"Sorry, Mary, it's a bad habit, I know. I'll break it one of these days, I promise."

"Hmm, will you, Daniel? I feel like you say that to me every morning." Mary wagged a finger at Dan as if to admonish him, but there was a twinkle in her eye. Dan shrugged, but his smile only got wider. He handed Mary her coffee (with extra milk) and she looked over next to Dan, where Jaime was leaning on the counter a little bit in the back.

"Jaime dear, tell me, you must do everything around here with how tired this boy is all the time, don't you?"

Dan and Jaime both laughed, and Jaime shook her head, taking a few steps forward, knocking her shoulder into Dan.

"Sometimes it certainly feels like that."

Mary paid for her coffee (they charged her half price and took turns covering the rest—but they'd never tell her) and she stayed for a few moments to talk with them. After telling Dan that he "better go to sleep earlier tonight" or he would be hearing from her, and telling the both of them to have a lovely day, she shuffled back out, her broach still sparkling and drawing on-looker's eyes.

After Mary's visit, things always took somewhere between a fifteen minutes and a half hour before business really started to go anywhere, but today was different, and almost immediately after Mary left the store people started to come in, which both Dan and Jaime inwardly frowned at. Neither of them wanted to be here at the moment—not that they ever wanted to be here—and the prospect of getting some time to slack off and just fool around together in an empty store had been alluring.

But duty calls, apparently.

The first hour passed in a bit of a blur of overweight white CEO's trying to get their caffeine fix, early-morning joggers trying to recuperate their systems, and random small groups or duos walking in, meeting for coffee and chatting at the tables.

After that, things slowed down a little, and Dan was able to slide his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked the screen, checking the time. Or that’s what he said to himself: there was a clock right in front of his face. He was just making excuses, at this point. Checking his phone every second like he had a crush—pathetic.

His notifications  were empty, minus a reminder he had set a while ago so he didn't forget to pay his rent. A reminder that he needed reminding about, apparently. Damnit. Hopefully his landlord would let him off.

Dan frowned a little at the lack of a Phil-shaped notification, but slipped his phone away. He couldn't help but glance at the door, even if there was no one walking in at the moment.

Phil had said he'd come today, right?

Dan at least hoped that he'd pop in for the doughnut he forgot before Dan's uncharacteristically short shift was over. Partly, because he didn't trust Jaime being alone with Phil at all. Partly because, well…

The little bell above the entrance to the shop dinged, and with it, Dan's head snapped up. Damn what kind of timing was—oh.

A customer had walked in, yes, but it wasn't who Dan wanted to see right now. It was some guy he had never seen before and his young daughter, not a tall weatherman who happened to like caramel macchiatos.

Dan helped them with their drinks, and even gave the girl a handful of extra marshmallows in her hot chocolate because Dan was weak for little kids with toothy grins, apparently.

The flow of customers slowed down further, and soon the crowds were gone, leaving the usual mid-morning lull, only a select few of the tables occupied. The windows were steamy after this morning's productivity, and the glass case up front next to the register was no exception.

Dan dragged his finger down on his side of the glass, doodling without direction. Well, doodling was probably a generous term for what he was doing. It was more like scribbling, his finger tracing random lines and patterns in the condensation. He heard the bell chime again, and glanced behind him, to see where his best friend had found herself to be. Maybe she could take this order, and Dan could keep counting down the minutes until he was let out.

She wasn't behind the counter with him, but the one coffee machine was open, and looked like it was mid-clean. She was probably in the back grabbing more coffee, then.

Dan sighed, but managed to tear himself away from his empty entertainment only to—fuck.

Phil had just been the one to walk in—already walking up to the counter, actually—and when their eyes locked Phil smiled widely.

"Dan! I've come for my pastry, I just hope you haven't eaten them all, if I'm being honest.”

“It’s in his pocket. Or maybe he’s just glad to see you,” Jaime called loudly from the back, before Dan could even process what Phil had said. He felt his cheeks turn red. Fuck.

"Oh my god Phil I'm-"

But Phil was laughing, and there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks too. He waved off Dan's protests with a wide smile.

"Dan, Dan it's okay, I get it." Phil looked over Dan's shoulder. "Thanks for the clarification, Jaime!" he called, seemingly to not think twice about what Jaime had said. Dan, however, wasn't taking it in stride as well as Phil, evident by how enflamed his cheeks still were.

"So, um, you uh, want a coffee, right? ”

“No, I want your hand in marriage,” Phil deadpanned. Dan heard Jaime laughing. The corner of Phil's mouth started to upturn, and Dan's heart was stuttering in his chest. What a day this was turning out to be.

But two could play at this game.

“I might need to get the ring resized,” Dan said, "but I guess there's only one way to find out."

Phil blinked at him. “Wait, you-”

“Your hand, please.”

Phil did as he was told. Dan was certain he heard Jaime's sharp inhale of surprise all the way from the back. Dan held Phil's ring finger out. “Hmmm… might be a little small.”

“What are you-”

Dan extracted a bagel from the display, placing it onto Phil’s finger. “Oh! It fits beautifully!”

Phil blinked, but then he unfroze, his shoulders relaxing and little crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes from his giggle.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really weird?”

Dan smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

"Well, I've certainly never been proposed to with a bagel before, maybe it is a bad thing."

Dan let Phil's hand drop and rolled his eyes, but a weird feeling in his chest begged his attention. It was unfamiliar. Dan ignored it.

"You can keep the bagel, if you want—I can't exactly put it back into the display case. And in all honesty, did you want a coffee? Or did you just want to pop in for your doughnut that you abandoned like a savage yesterday?" Dan asked, his hand hovering by the stacks of cups, waiting to see if he would be making another caramel macchiato for Phil today.

"Hey, I was trying to be a productive member of society and work, Daniel."

"Forgive me, then, Philip," Dan said. There was a little nervous voice in his head at Phil's uttering of his full name. No, not quite nervousness, it was something, that was for sure. But exactly what was a mystery to Dan.

So like any other obstacle Dan faced that he didn't know how to handle, he ignored it.  

“Wow, I can feel the sexual tension from here,” Jaime drawled, walking up next to Dan.

There it was. There it fucking was.

Dan snapped.

“Actually, Jaime can serve you,” Dan said, or rather, spat. He really didn’t mean to, but Jaime’s comment just—

“Dan?” Phil was saying, something soft and confused in his voice, “Did I do something?”

Dan pushed past Jaime and lifted up the divider that closed the counter off from the public, ignoring it all and shoving the Employee's only door open roughly, stepping into the break room. He needed a fucking break, that was for sure.

“Dan?” He heard behind him, just before the door swung shut.

Jaime this time. Dan ignored them both.

Sex. Why did it always have to end with sex?

Dan sunk into a chair, a shaky breath passing his lips, his head falling into his hands, the anger melting straight out of him, just leaving the sadness, the pain, the hurt.

Phil was probably confused as hell right now, and fuck it, Jaime would be too, but goddamnit Dan couldn't do this to himself.

Pull it together, pull it together, pull it-

A lump had formed rapidly in Dan's throat, and a black feeling had made itself home in his ribcage. He knew it well. Knew it better than himself, it seemed like, sometimes.

Loneliness, isolation, all based on the lack of feeling something that everyone else in the whole fucking world felt. Fuck, he couldn't do this, not here, not now. He had less than an hour before his shift was over and he could leave. He could mourn his lack of humanity then.

But god, was that just wishful thinking, because Dan's head seemed to become heavier than the world itself—there was no way that his neck could be able to lift his skull from where it was being cradled by his hands.

His eyes were wet, and god, just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it, he was fine. Peachy. It was a stupid comment made by his best friend that didn't mean anything. There were probably dozens of them made across the world every moment, so why the fuck did he have to care so much?

Salty tears were starting to slide down the curves of his wrist from where his palms were digging into his eyes.

Fuck, was it even worth lying to himself about anymore? Of the pretending? Of course he knew why he cared so much. Of fucking course he did. He didn't feel sexual attraction. He would never be able to be attracted to Phil that way (even if he was at all because he wasn't, Phil was a friend). There never would be "sexual tension" for Jaime to feel.

Never.

Because Dan was Dan, and a normal, happy ending just didn't seem to be in his fate.

Because Dan was ace.

Because he would never be attracted to people like that.

Because no one would ever want someone as broken as him who couldn't even feel correctly.

A muffed sob tore itself from Dan's throat, and it hurt. His body physically ached with the longing to be someone he was not and feel something he couldn't.

Fucking hell Dan, you fucking idiot.

Dan was gasping against his shaking fingers, tears clouding his vision. He gritted his teeth and groaned, digging his fingernails into his palms.

Jaime was going to come for him, most likely as soon as she could properly step away from the counter. If she saw him here, curled up on himself, crying over a stupid comment she made then she wouldn't take Dan telling her that "everything was fine" for an answer. He would be forced to tell her, and damnit Dan didn't want to ruin another relationship, especially one as important and meaningful to him as the one he had with Jaime. A memory surfaced of someone who had promised to love him.

"I can't believe this whole time you were a fucking freak and you didn't tell me. Asexual? God, Dan, that's just a fucking seven-letter cry for help."

Dan abruptly stood up and clenched his hands at his sides. There were tears still escaping his eyes and his breaths were still slightly hiccuped, but he just raised his chin and bit his lip. His shoulders were shaking but it didn't matter because he was fine.

He was doubtful that anything but his sheer force of will calmed his racing heart and his trembling body, but there was no part of Dan that cared nor was up for thinking about it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera. His eyes weren't too red. Dan used the corner of his shirt to wipe away the tear tracks and ran his fingers through his hair to fix his straightened fringe. He looked at the time before hiding away his phone. He'd been in here for roughly ten minutes. It didn't feel that long, that was for sure.

Dan took another deep breath and grabbed the door handle, not opening it yet. He closed his eyes. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine.

He opened the door, wiping away all traces of his breakdown off of his face and replacing it with a mask that he wore well after years of use.

Jaime's head flicked immediately to Dan as he emerged, but she was in the middle of making a coffee, a queue of at least a half dozen people in front of her. She'd be busy for a little. Good.

Dan passed her, not saying anything, just reaching over the counter to grab one of the rags they used to clean up the self-serving bar and walking away. Dan took his time cleaning up the spilled sugar and milk, fixing up the various advertisements for their specialty drinks they sold, and refilling the straws and napkin dispenser even though they didn't really need it. The entire time he worked, his thoughts rolled and crashed like thunder in his head, pulling his train of thought this way and that and in every direction that it didn't need to go. By the time that Dan was finishing up, the whole thing was spotless and he only had about ten minutes before his shift was over.

"Dan?"

Dan jumped, not even realizing that someone was standing next to him, and he turned. Phil was a few steps away, a coffee cup in his hand, a remorseful look on his face. His shoulders were dropped and his eyes were sad, and overall it seemed as if all of the enthusiasm that Dan associated with Phil had been sucked out of him.

There was a pang in Dan's chest upon seeing Phil's happiness so curbed, especially when it was all Dan's fault, fuck.

"I just want to say I'm sorry for earlier, that's all. I-I shouldn't have joked like that, and I'm really sorry if I offended you or something, I swear I didn't mean to, Dan, but I'm sorry." Phil said, his voice soft, those blue blue eyes pleading.

For a moment, Dan just stared, but he blinked, coming out of his haze.

"Phil...it's not your fault I promise. It wasn't even you, actually." Dan raised a hand when Phil opened his mouth as if to protest. "Thank you for your apology, but like I said, it wasn't you. It was stupid, anyways. I shouldn't have reacted like I had." Dan was pouring everything he couldn't say into his eyes. It was fruitless to think that Phil would understand him, but even if it was in vain Dan would still do nothing but hope.

"Dan, if something upset you then it matters."

"Phil, I promise you this doesn't." I don’t.

Dan rubbed his face, sighing. He couldn't explain it to Phil. Phil would only despise him. When he pulled his hand away, Dan's eyes settled on Steve walking through the glass entrance in his work uniform. He was a few minutes early, but Dan was fine with that; he had to get out of here.

"Could I ask when your break is?" Phil said, the words pulling all of Dan's attention to him.

"What?"

"Like, um, you get a break, right? I was wondering when it was because I kind of wanted to talk with you like we always do, but there's a, uh, bunch of people in line and stuff and I don't want to bother you when you're working. Not that you have to spend your break with me! No, it was just a question, I-god, I'm making an embarrassment of myself." Phil groaned after stumbling through his attempt at an explanation.

Dan could still feel that black emotion in his chest, and like every single time that it decided to surface itself, he wanted to find his way to his bed and curl up and have a proper cry, but there was a sudden and tremendous internal outcry, his body and mind shouting don't leave me alone.

Phil didn't want to deal with Dan and his problems, however. That was fact for certain.

Yet, Dan still found his mouth opening and words spilling forth against his will. Mutiny. He wanted to scream. Why couldn't his own self let him self destruct in peace?

"I don't have a break today, actually. I'm leaving early."

"Oh?" Phil's eyebrows bent upwards, a shy smile spreading across his face. "Would you, maybe want to do something, then? You don't have to-"

"Phil," Dan said, stopping him, still in an internal turmoil, "that sounds perfect."

Phil smiled, a true and proper grin that lit up his whole face.

"When do you get off?"

"Now, actually. Wait here."

Dan didn't wait for an answer, but rather walked past him and up to the counter, putting the rag he had been using back where it went. Jaime must have heard him because she turned her head from where she was facing away from Dan, making a coffee, her eyes going wide, mouth opening. It hurt him to do so, but he kept going and ignored her for a second time today. He once again stepped through the Employee's only door, grabbing his jacket off of the hook on the wall. Steve was in there, but they only locked eyes for a second before Dan turned away. He slipped it on as he found his way back to where Phil was still standing, minus his coffee cup. He must have finished it.

"You sure about this, Dan?"

"Obviously, Lester. C'mon."

Phil was right in step with Dan, holding the glass door open for the brunet. Dan stepped through, feeling the cool breeze blow against his face and ruffle his hair. Dan felt Jaime's eyes dig into his back and his phone vibrated in his pocket, but Dan didn't pull it out. He knew it would he her.

He and Phil fell into step. They weren't talking at the moment, but the silence wasn't oppressive. It felt right. It felt like they were acknowledging everything.

Dan's head was still flooding, filled to the brim with things that he didn't want to think about, but at least it seemed like the rest of him was agreeing to spending some impromptu time with Phil.

"I think you need some cheering up. Are you okay with me taking you somewhere?" Phil asked, breaking the silence. They were a few blocks away from the coffee shop at his point, and Dan had just been blindly following Phil the whole time.

"Cheering up, huh?" He asked. The normal, quietly sarcastic edge had returned to his voice.

"Yeah. How about it?"

"Where would we be going?"

"A surprise."

Dan flicked his eyes to Phil, who was already looking at him. His eyes were intense, and Dan couldn't keep the gaze. He was too vulnerable to.

"Sure."

He didn't have to be looking at Phil to know that the man was smiling right now, and for some reason that put a little grin on Dan's face.

A surprise. He hadn't had one of those in a while.

They fell into easy conversation, Phil obviously leading it and choosing topics that would require Dan to listen more than actively participate. Dan was grateful for Phil's cheeriness and understanding, and as a bonus, he learned more about who he was walking with.

Phil had spent a large time at uni producing little self-made films before he had chosen to pursue meteorology because of a child-like love for the weather. He like to play video games and dreamed of getting a corgi one day. He was from up north. He hated cheese.

"You hate cheese? How can someone hate cheese?" Dan screeched, interrupting Phil. He couldn't help it. Not liking cheese? Was it possible?

"I don't know! It's just weird! It doesn't taste good and the texture isn't good and it's just ew." Phil said, pulling a face.

"Oh my god."

"Hey!"

"Do you eat pizza? Shit if you're one of those people that eats pizza without cheese then this friendship is cancelled."

"No, I love pizza, don't worry."

"But you hate cheese?"

"I never said I made any sense."

Dan was still giving Phil an incredulous look, and Phil snorted and shook his head. Dan was about to ask him if there was any other food out there that was such a blasphemy to hate that Phil disliked, but Phil's face lit up and he wrapped his fingers around Dan's wrist, dragging him over to the left.

"Here we are!"

In front of Dan and Phil was the Manchester Eye, a popular ferris wheel that Dan had yet to visit even if he had been living in Manchester for years now.

"The Manchester Eye?"

"Yes! Tell me you've been, because the view at the top is absolutely incredible. You can’t have bad thoughts when you're up that high and looking at something so beautiful; it's just impossible."

Impossible, eh? We'll see, Lester.

Phil was still holding onto Dan's wrist, and normally, Dan would have pulled away at the touch by now, but for whatever reason, he didn't. Phil led him into the line, dropping Dan's wrist when they had to buy their tickets. Dan reached for his own wallet, but Phil waved him away, refusing to let Dan pay.

"This is your surprise, so you don't get to pay for it."

They were ushered onto the ride by the attendant, and because there was no one else waiting, they didn't have to run the risk of being put with strangers.

Their conversation had died down, and neither of them tried to revive it, choosing to just stay silent. When they got to the top, however, Dan couldn't help but suck in a breath.

Calling views like this "breathtaking" were cliche and overused in Dan's opinion, but he didn't really know another way to describe it. Manchester was splayed out before his eyes and for the first time, Dan thought of the city as more than the hell hole that he lived in. It was almost something beautiful.

Phil was smiling when Dan turned to him, but Dan didn't really care.

"Oh my god, Phil, you were right. I can't believe I haven't been on this before." "Beautiful, huh?"

"Yeah."

Phil ended up walking Dan home, after that, and when Dan was standing in front of his apartment complex, waving goodbye to Phil, he couldn't help but wish that their day together had lasted longer.

And in reality, it had lasted much longer than expected. They had finally crossed the boundary of just seeing each other when Dan was at work, and even disregarding that, they took the long way around town just to keep talking.

Phil was much more fun to be around than Dan realized. He was more than just talkative like Dan originally thought, but he was sweet and caring and had the strangest mannerisms and personality, but it wasn't annoying, merely endearing. He was like the sun, and Dan had always been one to bask in warmth.

"Bye, Dan!" Phil called, walking away. Dan smiled.

"See you, Phil!"

He climbed the steps to his flat, hands in his pockets, still riding the wave that was being anywhere near Phil Lester and spending time with him.

In his flat, Dan kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his jacket, pulling his work shirt over his head and leaving himself bare chested before falling back onto his couch. It was mid afternoon, but it already felt like midnight. Dan reached onto the floor where his jacket laid rumpled and fished his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it. He sent a quick text to Jaime, telling her not to worry and that he was fine, just tired, which was why he had reacted the way he had.

Twenty minutes later, he got a text, and Dan paused his game of flappy bird. He was surprised, however, to see that it wasn't a response from Jaime, but a text from Phil.

>> From: Phil Lester (is amazing!!) dan look at this dog!!!!!

A second text came through instantly, a link this time. Dan clicked it, and twitter popped up, showing him a video of a cute labrador chasing bubbles. Dan laughed, scrolling up to retweet it, but one of the replies caught his eye.

AmazingPhil: 10/10 doggo content!!!

AmazingPhil? Dan clicked on the reply, and up came a twitter feed. Specifically, Phil's twitter feed. Dan started to scroll, finding himself laughing. Looks like Phil's twitter was just as enjoyable as he was in person.

Dan pressed the follow button before backspacing and opening his messages once again.

>> To: Phil Lester (is amazing!!) i  would die for that dog wtf

Phil started to type immediately, and if Dan said he didn't smile, he'd be lying.

~~~~~

The next morning, Dan had to peel himself off of the couch after falling asleep there, in the midst of watching a movie. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. His neck was all bent and he could feel the sofa creases on his cheek.

Dan looked to the side, peeking out the window. The sky was overcast, but it didn't look too bad. Would it be a nice day?

Dan flicked on his television, flipping through the channels until he found a weather one. It wasn't Phil's, and for some reason, that made him keep searching.

Eventually, Dan stumbled across it, Phil's smiling face appearing right before Dan's. He was in the middle of telling the weather, pointing to one of the maps behind him.

"-and it looks like there's a small chance of rain today, so keep your umbrellas home today!"

Dan rushed through his shower after looking at the time, not wanting to be late for work. He barreled through his kitchen after running a straightener through his hair, shoving a handful of cereal in his mouth and pocketing his phone before running out his door. He'd have to run; he overslept.

When Dan opened the door to exit his apartment complex, however, it was raining. He groaned. The rain would give him hobbit hair and soak him through completely no doubt if he didn't get an umbrella.

Well, fuck.

By the time Dan ended up running back up to his flat, tracked down his umbrella, and practically fell down the steps, he was most certainly going to be late.

Small chance of rain my ass, Phil.

Dan started fast walking, the rain pelting his umbrella. He was grumbling to himself, but then an idea popped into his head, and he couldn't help the smile that came over his face. He posed for a picture, sure to include the rain all around him, composed a short caption, and sent it out to the internet before putting his phone away and picking up his pace to get to work.

He might be late, but goddamnit it wouldn't be by much.

Dan (@danisnotonfire) 4 seconds ago: does this look like a "small chance of rain" to you @AmazingPhil?

[the-stories-in-my-head-95]

As Long As You Both Shall Live

 Bucky Barnes X reader X Steve Rogers

Till Death Do Us Part

Summary- In a world where everyone is born with the name of their soulmate-or soulmates- on their wrist the reader has the horrible fate of being bound to two dead soldiers. That is until she sees Captain America fighting in New York. Does she run from her destined love or does she go to him?

Message- This is part 2 to Till Death do us Part! I added some T’cham to the story. I got the idea of Bucky burning/ scratching off his soul mark form a story @iavengesuperwholock wrote! There is going to be at least one more part! Sorry if it sucks!!!

Word Count-1300ish

It took you and Steve about 6 months to track anything down. Steve had enlisted the help from all of the other Avengers. It’s Natasha who finally finds something. She hand you and Steve the file and tell you that you should probably read it while sitting down. So you and Steve take the file back to your shared apartment and sit down at the kitchen table and you start to read it.

You were going to be sick. Your soulmate was alive-if you can call it that- he was tortured and experimented on. Hydra had conditioned him to be their puppet, they had even cut the arm with Steve’s name on it off, so Bucky wouldn’t have any way to remember who he was. There was also a picture of his other wrist it showed that your name had been branded off.

“He did that the night before he left. He wanted to keep you safe, he was going to do the same thing to my name but I convinced him not to. When he was captured he had started to scratch it off, but I rescued him before he could finish.”

“We need to find him, we need to bring him home.” You whisper. Steve nods and he takes your hand in his.

“I know, doll, I know.”

*****

You and Steve were currently living in DC. You were having your morning run when Steve decides to mess with the other jogger there. As Steve was lapping the two of you, you speed up so you can run next to him.

“Sorry, about him, he can get annoying at times.” You joke.

“Well, he is Captain America, I guess he’s earned the right to be a bit annoying. I’m Sam.”

“Y/N, I’m the showoffs soulmate.”

“So, what’s it like being Captain America’s soulmate.”

“Well it was pretty depressing for most of my life, thinking my soulmate was dead and all, but now it’s great.”

“Yeah, I’m an error to. I only got a first name, T’Challa. I’ve been looking for him but-“he stops talking, lost in thought.

“We’re looking for our other soulmate to.” You say as the two of you start to slow down. Eventually the two of you sit down by a tree. The two of you talk about different ideas to locate Sam’s soulmate when you here:

“Need a medic?”

“I need a need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran, like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.” Sam says. “Do you even try to keep up with him?”

“Sometimes he’s nice and runs at my pace, but usually it’s just a bunch of on your lefts. Only thirteen miles, really Stevie?”

“Guess I got a late start.” Steve says while grinning at you.

“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap. Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.” As Sam spoke you and Steve started to laugh.

“What unit are you in?” Steve asks.

“58th Para rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA.” Sam says as Steve helps the two of you up. “Sam Wilson.”

“Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, she told me. Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”

“Takes some getting used to. It’s good to meet you, Sam.” You turn to wave to Sam. You had already exchanged numbers, so the two of you could meet up to talk about ways to look for your soulmates.

“It’s your bed, right?” Sam says and Steve stops and turns back.

“What’s that?

“It’s your bed it’s too soft. When I was over there I’d sleep on the ground, used rock for pillows, like a caveman. Now I’m home lying in my bed and it’s like…” Sam says.

“Lying on a marshmallow. Feel like I’m gonna sink right to the floor. How long?” Stevie asks.

“Two tours. You must miss the good old days. Huh?” A lot of people asked him that and it always made you laugh.

“Well, things aren’t so bad. Food’s a lot better, we used to boil everything, no Polio’s good. Internet, so helpful. Been reading that a lot. Trying to catch up.”

“Marvin Gaye, 1972 Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one hour.”

“I’ll put it on the list.” Steve said as he pulled his little notebook out and writes it down.

*******

You and Steve were currently at a party that the EU was hosting for all of the dignitaries. It was quite boring but most of the dignitaries wanted to meet the famous Captain America. You were standing off to the side, watching your soulmate fondly.

“Hello, my name is Ayo, I am a member of the Dora Milaje, my King has requested your presence at his table.” A women in a stunning red dress says. You nod and follow her. She motions to a seat next to a man who was in a black suit. After you sit, some of the others introduce themselves and then you turn to the King in question.

“Hello, I’m Y/N, I’m Captain Rogers soulmate.” You say quietly. The King chuckles.

“Yes, I know who you are. I am King T’Challa.” Holy shit, holy fucking shit. This was Sam’s soulmate. You take your phone out of you clutch and you go to your photos and you scroll through until you find the photo of Sam’s soulmate tattoo. You then shove your phone in his face.

“Is this how you spell it?” you whisper.

“Y-you know Samuel Thomas Wilson?”

“I do, he works with Steve covertly and is one of our closest friends. He’s in the city now, if you want I can call him, he’s been looking for you for forever. He was so scared that his mark was an error.” T’Challa nods and you call Sam and tell him to come to the gala.

“That is not what I wanted to speak to you about, but I suppose it is fitting. You give me my soulmate and I give you yours.” King T’Challa says.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Hydra sent an assassin to kill my father a couple of years ago, we were able to apprehend him and soon realized that he was being controlled. So our scientists went to work on finding a way to deprogram him. They did about a year ago, but he didn’t remember much of his past life. Just the names Y/N and Steven.” You put your hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs.

“Bucky, you found Bucky.” You whisper.

“Yes.” You jump out of your chair and run to Steve. You drag him over to King T’Challa so he can tell him what he told you. Both you and Steve are sobbing messes when Sam arrives.

“Y/N, Steve, what’s wrong? Why did I have to come? Why are the two of you crying?” Sam asks.

“Sam, I would like you to meet King T’Challa.” You say. Sam stops breathing and just stares at T’Challa and then down at his wrist and then back at T’Challa. While Sam is trying to comprehend what just happened T’Challa is grinning like a fool in love.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my heart.” T’Challa says. Sam looks at him for another minute and then he launches himself at the King and kisses him. When the break away, they lean their foreheads on each other’s.

“I was so worried that I would never find you.” Sam whispers.

“Well, you never have to worry about that again. Would you come with me to my country? Your friends are coming for a while. They are to be reunited with their lost love.” At that Sam turns to you and Steve.

“Wait, you guys found Bucky?”

“No we didn’t, he did.” You say motioning to T’Challa.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get going!” Sam says.

Tag List-.@sexysamsungl​ @agentbadbitch​ @marrvelle-fics @magellan-88​ 

[fangirl-who-writes-shit]

The Girl Who Cried Wolf: Peter Parker short fic:PART 1:

Girl Who Cried Wold

Peter Parker x Stark!Fem!reader. (Described as curvy but obviously can be any body type and gender, just change the words in ur head x)

Masterlist

This is just going to be an info filler chapter, readers back story and some personality traits. The story will begin properly in the next part. Also not written well as I’ve rushed it a bit.

Also I’m British so sorry for anything wrong with areas or using British slang/humour 😂.

Warnings for all parts: Mental health, swearing, probs some violence at some point, emotional/physical/sexual abuse/assault, sexual nature (consent), emmm emotional rollercoaster throughout. I think that’s it?? Please tell me if not.

If part has any triggering subjects for sensitive reads I will say.

In this one has mentions of abuse.

Also part 2 is already up, please tell me if you want more.

Readers p.o.v

“Dad, I’m going now!” I yelled gathering up my weekend bag from the floor next to the kitchen where my dad was.

“Okay Princess, call if you need anything. Happy is waiting downstairs” Dad said walking over to me. I smiled looking up at my father, I only see him every other weekend as he’s always busy. But of course he would be, he’s Tony Stark aka Iron Man.

“I will, em call me when you can have me next” I mumbled pushing some hair behind my ear.

“Course I will, probably will be in about two to three weeks. That okay?” He asked and ran a hand through my y/h/c hair.

“Perfect” I lied. I stood on my tip toes to kiss his cheek.

“Bye!” I shouted again as I walked out of the door and to the elevator. Once I reached the ground floor I saw Happy waiting for me.

“Hey Happy” I said with a smile, he sent one back putting his phone away.

“Hello Kiddo, come on cars outside ready” I nodded and followed him as he lead the way, as we were walking I pulled my hood up and put my earphone in to block out the world. Happy opens the door to the back of pitch black car with tinted windows.

I slid into the car and buckled up my seat belt then turned my music up, the song playing was ‘The Girl Who Cried Wolf’ by 5 seconds of summer. I let out a small sigh dreading going back home to mum and her new boyfriend Bobbie.

'Every time you say to me it’s over You just wanna start again, it’s just lies The girl who cries wolf every day Ignored by gravity, but in the end, don’t ask why.’

I’ve been trying to hint to dad that I want to live with him but he just isn’t getting it. My mums an alcoholic and so is her new boyfriend. Mum and Dad were youngish  when they had me, Dad was nineteen and mum was twenty one.

(A\N I know Tony Stark is older than 34 but for some reason I’ve just always imagined him in his 30’s sorry)

My father didn’t know anything about me until I was around five, my mum found out she was pregnant and broke up with him but after I was born she turned to the drink and ran into dad again at a night club and she told him about me as she slurred on her words. Not the best way to find out you have a daughter I must say.

'You say you wanna, but do you wanna run away? Your great escape, oh yeah. Where you going? Always running Find a way to call it quits again.’

I ripped out my earphones with a sigh and turned off the music not in the mood to listen to depressing music I relate to. I stared out of the window watching the world whizz by as Happy drove me home, to Forest Hills.

Dad pays for our apartment, he offered to pay for a big fancy house somewhere closer to him but mum said no, she doesn’t like it when dad buys us things. I don’t know why, it’s not like she’s earns enough money to pay for our apartment.

I felt numb as the thought of going back to mother and Bobbie over took my head. Bobbie isn’t afraid to shout at me or hit me sometimes. Mum doesn’t stop him she just opens another bottle of JD or whatever she’s drinking that week. They’ve only been together for two months but he acts like he’s lived with us for two years.

Soon the buildings turned more familiar as we drove into Forest Hills, I’ve lived here since I was six. Before we moved here we lived in Brownsville, Brooklyn with one of mums ex boyfriends Jackson. I don’t really remember it much but I do remember men coming in and out of our apartment twenty four seven.

Once dad find out how mum was raising me (around drugs, sex and alcohol) he tried to make us move closer to where he was living at the time, Stark Tower. But the best he could was Forest Hills which was actually further way from Stark Towers but it is a nicer place. Dad now lives further upstate with the rest of the Avengers, well what’s left of them.

“We’re here Kiddo” Happy said cutting me out of my thoughts, wow really? That went by quick.

“Come on Happy, I’m fifteen. I’m not a kid anymore” I giggled and grabbed my bag from beside me.

“Still young Y/N” He said turning back to see me, I sent him a small smile not wanting to get out of the car and for him just to drive me back to dad’s.

“Bye Happy” I said with a sigh and went to open the door.

“Call if you need anything, I’ll always drop everything for you mini Stark” I let out a laugh with a nod and stepped out of the car. I waited till Happy had turned and out of site.

I turned round to my apartment building, it wasn’t fancy but it was one of the best around. Not that you could tell if you walked into my actual apartment that my mother can keep clean and with me being so busy with school I can’t do it all the time.

I walked up the stairs to the third floor and got out my keys from my coat pocket knowing mum won’t be up yet as it’s 4pm and she’s normally passed out still.

As soon as I opened the door and was hit with the smell of booze, I let out a groan when I saw empty cans and bottles everywhere. But to my surprise there was a note on my bedroom door that I had reached after nearly tripping over the mess.

'Gone out, be back at 6 or something’

I snatched the note down from the door and tore it up then threw it on my ground. I fiddled with my key ring and tried to find the right key for my door. I installed a lock myself after I came home from detention on a Sunday about a year ago to find a random guy in my bed snorting coke.

I unlocked my door and walked into my medium size room before shutting it again and locking it again from the inside. I pressed my back against the door to look at my room, the walls were grey and I had a bed in the middle of a single and a double.

I set my bag down on my bed and collapsed next to it. I can’t be arsed to go to school tomorrow, don’t get me wrong I love school it’s my escape and I’m good at it but sometimes I just want to stay in bed all day and sleep. I don’t know how long I sat there just looking at the ceiling, thinking about life and how other people have it a lot worse than me, but when I finally looked away from the same spot of damp or something above me it was dark.

I sat up pushing my hair out of my face then reached over to my bedside table and switched on my lap. I let out another sigh looking over to my desk at the other side of the room, it wasn’t very big but I could still do homework on it. Next to my desk was my book case which took up over half of the wall, I smiled to myself as I saw all the books in colour coded order and it brought me slight satisfaction.

I walked over to my desk and put my homework in my school rucksack that I had finished two days before. I sat down on my office chair and got my sketch book and started to add details to my latest drawing, recently I’ve been seeing his face all over the news and I’ve been kinda drawn to him. I added a bit of shade to the mask of the famous Spider-Man.

I’ve been building the guts to ask dad about him, but I’m scared he’ll get all protective and shit. But I want to know more about him. I looked down at my watch to see it’s 7pm, I turned back around to stare at my door. Mum should of been home by now, I got up and unlocked my door once again to see if I’d just not hear her come in.

“Mum?!” I called out as I stepped out into the living area of our apartment, the TV was off as well as the lights. I walked over to mums door before knocking on it.

“Mum?!” I yelled again but still no answer. I opened the door and all I saw was empty cans and a untidy bed. I rolled my eyes and slammed the door shut before stomping back into my room and locked my door once again.

I let out a scream to myself and kicked my door over and over again until a crack was developed and I stopped. I harshly wiped my tears away and started to strip out of my clothes to get into my nightwear, which was one of Steve’s old jumpers and some joggers, I miss Steve I thought to myself. I let out a small sigh as I calmed myself down by putting on some music, it was the same song I was listening to in the car.

'So look at me in the eye, is anyone there at all? Is anyone there at all? Cause I’m not dreaming. So look at me in the eye, is anyone there at all? Is anyone there at all? Cause I’m not leaving’

I slowly felt my eyes start to shut as more tears escaped, just think Y/N. People have it worse, people always have it worse than you was the last thought that ran through my mind as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I shot up from my bed with a groan as I rubbed my eyes that were a little sticky from the dry tears. I rolled my eyes slightly as the annoying noise of my alarm clock still echoed around my room. I leaned over and pressed the 'stop’ button to making it stop ringing.

I got up and started to get ready for school, I went into my closet to pick out a comfy outfit. It’s starting to get a little chilly in temperature again so I picked out a dark emerald green and black checked jumper with some blue, slightly, ripped jeans with a pair of fishnet tights underneath. I finished my outfit off with black combat boots.

I decided not to wear a lot of makeup today as I couldn’t be fucking bothered, all I wore was some nude lipgloss, a light warm toned brown eyeshadow and clear mascara along with some concealer for my under eye bags and a faded bruise near the corner of my lip. I brushed my hair but then left it as I  picked up my bag to go to school.

I locked my door behind me and walked toward the kitchen to get an apple. As I went to take a bite I remembered about my mum. Shit is she back?

“Mum!” I shouted walking out of the kitchen to look at the sofa to see if she was passed out but she wasn’t, I walked over to mums room without knocking and she still wasn’t there.

I got my iPhone 7, what dad got me, out of my pocket to see if she had text or rung me but she hasn’t. I let out a groan and tried not to let any tears fall. This has happened before but normally she’s back by the time I wake up. I tried to ring her myself but it went straight to voicemail.

I took a deep breath and told myself she’ll be back by the time I get home. I headed down the stairs of my apartment block to get the train to school. It was sunny out but there was still a breeze in the air making me glad I wore my jumper. I started to jog slightly around people as I checked the time once again, 7:45am.

I let out a sigh of relief when I arrived five minutes early, I got my phone back out to put my earphones it and put my music on shuffle. I felt my cheeks start to heat up as I thought who was going to be on this train. It soon pulled up and I took a deep breath before walking on into the cramped train. I soon saw the face I recognised out of all the unfamiliar ones.

Peter Parker.

——

Thank you for reading, part 2 is up!

[yareque]

Why Trump is exceptionally unqualified to be President

Prior experience as a businessman indicates serious problems. Running a business and being a head of state requires a different skill set.  In a business the CEO is the final decision-maker. There is no appeal other than to the board of directors.  If that business is privately held then the full responsibility is in the CEO, particularly if he is the primary owner of the business.  A president of a country needs to work on consensus building with the legislature and must consider what is best for the country by gathering input from a wide range of advisors and listening to the people, those that got his vote and those that did not.

Trump was a bad businessman. The number of failed endeavors is huge. Trump had an airline Trump Shuttle from 1989 to 1992.  It had major financial difficulties; fortunately, it did not go into bankruptcy but was sold at a low price to US Air, which managed to operate the route to this day (American Airlines purchased US Air).  He could not operate the airline for less than three years, while the sold part has been functional for 30 years.  Later Trump-owned companies filed for 6 bankruptcies. Bankruptcy is a means for an entity to survive despite a heavy financial burden.   The court grants relief from that burden.  The outcome is a functioning company, but the consequences are that investors and contractors lose.  The reasons for filing for bankruptcy are varied; they include a low economic period for a given industry, an overall depressed economy, an incident or an unexpected product failure, and bad management. If the case is bad management or product failure due to unintended side effects the bankruptcy judge will require restructuring the corporation.  The restructuring will in general mean new board members and a new CEO. But if the corporation is privately held, there is no board; just the owner(s) and they can reappoint the same CEO, usually the owner, who got the company into a mess in the first place.  Only one of Trump’s bankruptcies occurred in an economic low in 2009.  The other five bankruptcies occurred when similar businesses were doing fine.  Trump stated that filing for bankruptcy is “smart”.  Yes smart for him, no so much for the investors who did not make a profit on their investment, but a loss. He took a good salary as CEO, paying himself with investors’ money, but when the company went under he did not bail it out. That is not smart that is dishonest.  One bankruptcy for a CEO is understandable, put six is not.  It is bad management.

Trump’s list of failed companies that just failed without bankruptcy is huge.  These include Trump steaks, Trump the Game, Trump Magazine, Trump travel site, Trump Tower Tampa, Trump vodka, and so on and on.  The two biggest indicators of a scam and con artist are:  Trump Mortgage and Investment and Trump University.  In 2006 Trump predicted “I think it’s a great time to start a mortgage company. The real estate market is going to be very strong for a long time to come.”  Well, the real-estate market crashed in two years and there were warning signs of a weakening market when he said this.  Ok, that was not a con or scam; it was mere ignorance of economic data and economic principles.  Trump University was a total scam.  Desperate people paid thousands of dollars to get insight into the real estate market and become rich.  The courses at TU were simple platitudes which could be found online for free or just by purchasing a copy of “The Art of the Deal.”  

Successful business leaders can have a few failed ventures, say one to three.  They learn from their failures and don’t repeat them.  Many highly successful CEOs never had any failures. Bill Gates has been in business for a shorter time than Trump.  He started with virtually nothing, unlike Trump who got a huge stash of money from his father. Steve Jobs had only one failure; Next Computer.  Next was a good product but was too late to market as Apple and Microsoft had significant market dominance.  The founders of Facebook, Oracle, Google and Amazon never faced major failures.  Each is much wealthier than Trump.  The heavily-Republican-leaning founders of Home Depot had only one failure when they clashed with the CEO of Handy Dandy. Handy Dandy is out of business; Home Depot is thriving. On the other hand, Trump engaged in multiple business ventures (the count is 20 major ones and 40 minor ones) with 8 out of 20 succeeding.    This type of “success” is not impressive, and if were the norm for all business executives the country would be in a serious long term depression.

In summary, Trump is a bad business leader, majority of ventures failed.  He was not self-made but inherited most of his fortune from his father. Just the fact that at the start of the banking crisis in 2006 he predicted long term growth in the real estate market and started a mortgage company is proof enough that he is incompetent in economic matters.

  Racism.  The Trump real estate enterprise has been the subject of lawsuits dealing with racial discrimination. Fred Trump, Donald’s father, was sued and Donald was also sued.  The classic example of his racism was the birther issue.  He claimed that Barak Obama was not born in the United States. Even when a long copy of Obama’s birth certificate came he claimed that it may be a forgery.  None of Obama’s opponents for the Presidency claimed that. John McCain accepted the fact that Obama was born in Hawaii, so did the majority of Republicans.  Yet Trump persisted.  When the remotest avenues of reason were exhausted he attacked Obama’s academic record implying that Obama had poor grades and most likely was there on an affirmative action program.  Yet, Trump failed to release his transcripts from Wharton.  In several speeches Trump claimed, implicitly, to have graduated from the MBA program at Wharton.  He, in fact, graduated from the undergraduate Wharton program in finance. The graduation record for Wharton indicates that Trump did graduate, but with no honors or awards.  He was not in the top 20%, if he were he would have graduated with honors (cum laude). Obama graduated with high honors from Harvard Law (Magna cum Laude).  What reason could there be for these inquires and lies about Obama?  Trump was not a candidate.  The only logical answer is a dislike of people of African descent.  Trump does not have the capacity to logically argue against Obama’s policies so he attacks.

Trump stated on several occasions that he is “the least racist person.”  General claims of not being a racist indicate the contrary.  At one rally he pointed to a black man and said: “Here is my African-American.”  In light of the history of slavery and severe discrimination of people of African descent, this was a very poor choice of words.  Does Trump imply that somehow this individual was his property?  Probably not. But it could imply that this person is somehow beholden to him.  Or it could imply that this is about the only black person supporting Trump.

Trump demonstrated his racism and disregard for law and due process when he called for the death penalty for five black and Hispanic teenagers, ages 14 to 16, arrested for the beating and rape of a female jogger in Central Park. Trump placed an advertisement in several New York newspapers calling for the death penalty, on May 1, 1989. This was before any trial.  Trump said “Mayor Koch has stated that hatred and rancor should be removed from our hearts. I do not think so.  I want to hate these muggers and murderers.  They should be forced to suffer. … Yes, Mayor Koch, I want to hate these murderers and I always will.”  This may be a gut reaction of many people.  But, most will stop and think, perhaps these five are innocent.  Could there be a mistaken identity? After all, it was dark when the assault and rape took place.  Yes, the five were found guilty, based on forced confession and withholding of DNA evidence.  Later examination of the DNA proved that none of the five committed the rape.  After many appeals they were released; the DNA matched a serial rapist who eventually confessed.  Trump never took back his call of death penalty to the five.  In fact, he continued to claim that they were guilty, during the campaign in 2016.  This shameless and thoughtless behavior so impacted the opinions of the public that the likelihood of an unbiased jury was impossible.  The advertisement mentioned hatred several times.  Yes, anger is the right reaction to a brutal crime.  But so is a sense of justice.  A good moral person would not want someone innocent incarcerated or executed for a crime that they did not commit. 

Very recently Trump tweeted that the progressive newly elected women to Congress “originally came from countries whose governments are a complete and total catastrophe, the worst, most corrupt and inept anywhere in the world (if they even have a functioning government at all).” He said that they should go back to their countries of origin to fix the problems there.  Oddly they are already there.  Two of these women have a long line of ancestors in the United States, much longer than Trump’s ancestors.  Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was born in New York City; her ancestors hail from Puerto Rico, which has been part of the US since 1898.  Ayanna Pressley is African American, a descendant of slaves brought to the pre-USA colonies well over 200 years ago, born in Ohio.  Rashida Tlaib was born in Michigan; she is of Palestinian heritage. Only lhan Omar was born outside of the US, in Somalia.  She came to the US at the age of 10.  I came to the US at a similar age.   I resent being called partially American.  Like Ihan I spent my formative years in this country.   All four are Americans.  And if they are to clean up corruption in their country, they are in the right place: Washington.  Washington is home to one of the most corrupt and inept administrations in the history of the United States.

Racism was the theme of Trump’s candidacy announcement.  He lambasted Mexican and Central Americans living in the US as criminals, drug pushers and rapists.  There is no evidence that the vast majority of those who crossed the Mexican border without proper documentation commit a disproportionate majority of crimes.  The evidence points the other way, undocumented immigrants keep a low profile in order not to draw attention to law enforcement, and hence they commit a disproportionally low fraction of crimes. Most of the undocumented Central Americans have ancestors who lived in the Americas for up 10,000 years. Their lands have been illegally seized and renamed by European invaders.  The problems in Mexico and Central America have been created by the United States.  The US creates a high demand for drugs.  It has failed in the war on drugs and failed to implement effective drug rehabilitation programs.  Rather than be effective and pragmatic the US blames the supply chain outside its borders. The US interfered in the affairs of Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua.  The interference was based on fear of communism and consisted of propping up corrupt dictators.  People flee the corruption and lack of law and order in their country to the place that can provide the best security.  The US created problems but no has no moral integrity to deal with them.

The wall is an example of something not needed.  It won’t solve the drug problem.  Drug transporters built tunnels and catapult machines to transport their products across the current border.  And most drugs come to the US by sea.  Most undocumented individuals arrive in the US legally, but overstay their visas.  Even Trump said that one can surmount the wall with a taller ladder and a dismount the wall with a longer wall. The wall is just a campaign chant to rile the ignorant masses.

Trump inherited a good economy. Unemployment was 4.7%.  Unemployment steadily dropped from nearly 11% at the start of the recovery in 2010, decreasing 1% per year.  In the two and half years of the Trump administration, the rate fell only by 1%. The ultimate low is 2% to 2.5%. Basically, Trump’s policies did little to reduce the unemployment rate; the drop from 4.7 to 3.7% is best explained by the hysteresis effect of the previous administration.  Typically the hysteresis effect on economic matters for a transition of administrations is 5 to 8 months.  During the campaign he claimed that the unemployment rate of less than 5% was fake; the “actual” unemployment rate was 20% or more.  A few months into his presidency, when the unemployment rate fell below 4.5% he claimed that he achieved a miracle.  The implication of this is that the unemployment rate fell by more than 15% in six months. With a workforce of about 160 million, this implies that Trump “created” nearly 25 million jobs in half a year.  That is total nonsense.  Yet people believe the lie that under Obama the economy was a disaster, and a miracle happened under Trump in just a few months.

The national debt started to drop in the last years of the Obama administration.  Yet the Republicans kept blaming him for the high debt, even though they had both houses of Congress.  The cause of the debt was the recession.  Borrowing in hard times is acceptable; it speeds up the recovery.  Borrowing should go down as the economy booms.  It is prudent to pay back debts when you have money.  The debt was really really bad according to the Republicans. But when Trump became President it was not so bad.  The debt started to rise with the tax cut bill of 2017.  A very odd tax cut, since I actually paid over $4,000 more in taxes. But the very rich did get a huge cut. What do the rich do with the cut? Do they add more jobs?  No.  They invest or buy luxury goods.  That is why the stock market has gone up so high.  Companies invested the money, not in higher salaries, more jobs, more development, no; they bought back their own stock.  In the meantime, overall wage stagnation continued.  

Every country will claim that the economic policies of other countries are unfair.  The US farm bill has been called an unfair subsidy. China has been accused of undervaluing the yuan. The undervaluing has been policy years ago, but currently, the yuan is slightly overvalued.   The US does a lot to manipulate the dollar.  The US Central Bank controls interest rates.  The interest rates have a global economic impact and an indirect impact on the exchange rate of the dollar.  Plus a lot of world-wide trade is conducted using the American dollar, particularly oil and gas. All of this is done not to necessarily benefit the entire world, but rather for the benefit of the USA.  So if China acts in its best interest, it is doing the same as the US.  

It is true that China dominates in steel and aluminum production.  Now, the US produces only high-grade steel and aluminum for specialized application and not for construction.  Production of industrial-grade steel deteriorated in the US for a variety of reason, none of which are due to actions by China.  The US had steel plants that were a hundred plus years old. Modernization would require more automation; the result of which meant fewer employees.  The labor unions balked at the thought of losing so many members. The steel companies had investment problems.  At the same time low-cost labor, smaller labor pool and automation permitted the Chinese to sell steel at lower prices. These three factors led to the collapse of steel production in the US.  The main fault was in the US not in China.  The imposition of tariffs on Chinese steel and aluminum benefits only the small American steel and aluminum industries; which will not be able to produce enough metal to meet demands for several decades.  All other industries suffer.  If there were other sources of material this may be the greater punishment to China, but China is the largest supplier and demand cannot be met without importing from them.  The tit-for-tat tariffs went in China’s favor when they switched their source of agricultural product from America’s breadbasket to South America. Now buyers of Chinese materials have to pay a tariff; and farmers can’t sell their products to China. What does Trump do?  He pays off the farmers so that they won’t be too angry and continue to support him.  If I go buy a car the price will include the tariff and that money will go to a farmer that is not producing anything.

Trump’s problem is that he is angry that China is on its way to becoming the number one economy.  So he fights back.  Unfortunately, he never considers the long term consequences. His lack of comprehending consequences and economic principles was predictable based on his start and immediate failure of a mortgage company in 2006.   Trump may be correct on China.  They do have a record of stealing intellectual property.  This problem does need to be addressed.  China has a poor human rights record.  That needs to be addressed.  But whatever actions are taken to convince China to be a better trade partner, and have an improved human rights record, they must be done with the consequences in mind, particularly the impact on the American economy.  In general, using angry words and issuing ultimatums is rarely effective.  Most people do not respond well to anger and threats.  Rather than change their position the accused become more entrenched, more hostile and start planning revenge.  Classic examples of Republican Presidents dealing with adversarial government are Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.  Nixon improved US-China relations.  Reagan may have hated communism but he approached the Soviet Union with strong but polite words.  When he said “Mr. Gorbachev: Tear down this wall!”  He was to the point without the insults.  He also built a cordial relationship with Gorbachev.  Diplomacy and patience are more effective than threats.

Trump is incapable of reasoning.  He ridicules and threatens those that disagree with him.   Calls people names, in the fashion of an elementary schoolboy.  News outlets that criticize are accused of spreading lies and are called fake news. He has no counter-argument to defend his position, he just attacks. He has no concept of justice and due process. In his campaign against Hillary Clinton, he presented no facts, just lead in chants of “Lock her up.”  Anyone that respects a justice system where one is innocent until proven guilty will wait until due process is completed before pronouncing punitive action upon a guilty verdict.   Hillary was under intense investigation and scrutiny.  A former master-very-successful prosecutor Rep. Trey Goudy could not find any wrongdoing on her part or anyone associated with her, and he tried hard.  Recently Trump led chants of his followers to send back four Congressional Representatives back to their countries (see above).  The only “crime” these four committed was disagreeing with Trump. One of the major hallmarks of a free democracy is the exchange of ideas, respect for those who disagree with you, and the ability to change your position when facts emerge to contradict your original views.

It is strange that the firm “believers” in Trump will dismiss highly respected media as “fake news”. In general, when ten or more people claim one thing and a single individual claims the opposite, without any other information it is quite prudent to trust the majority.  The truth may not necessarily rest with the majority; therefore the next step is to check the credibility of the sources.   The major newspapers in the US have done a good job of exposing various scandals and malfeasance on the part of government officials, organized crime, corporations. The Washington Post uncovered the Watergate affair and lies of President Nixon. The New York Times uncovered the crimes committed by the US government during the war in Vietnam.  Several newspapers (including the NYT and WP) documented the US interference in Indonesia with the “help” to massacre communist sympathizers.  And the US worked with Indonesia to commit atrocities against the independence movement in East Timor. Over and over these new outlets have done a great service to report on injustice.  All respectable news outlets carefully divide the journalistic part of the paper, away from the opinion, or editorial, section and advertising.  Most of these papers have both conservatives and liberals contributing to the editorial pages.  Television news organizations blur the journalism-editorial line.  CNN’s Anderson Cooper is both a journalist and pundit.  The other pundits, Rachael Maddow, and Don Lemmon are pure pundits.  Fox claimed that Bill O’Reilly was a journalist, when in fact he was a pure pundit.  The voices of reason on Fox, Chris Wallace, and Shep Smith, tend to operate as both journalist and pundit.  Even these two have been quite critical of Trump.  With a great track record for uncovering hidden truths, the majority of center and slightly off-center news organization have demonstrated their agenda, which is searching for and connecting facts.  Trump, on the other hand, has an agenda to discredit these news outlets so they are not believed when they uncover his dirt (and crimes).

Very strange that Trump demanded various documents from Obama now refuses to release his income tax forms.  He has stopped members and former members of his staff from testifying before Congress. He wanted to stop the release of the Mueller report.  He tried to stop Mueller from testifying.  Every prior President has released his income tax forms.  Presidential candidates have released their forms.  No president has gone so far as to prohibit so many staff members from testifying.  The question is why?  There are already hints that his organization has not been totally right with the law. So it is clear to me, based on my intuition and assessment of facts, that all of this is designed to cover up the activities of a criminal empire.

Trump has made several statements that indicate his lack of understanding US law and the constitution, or at worst his disdain and contempt for the law.  He claimed that the Constitution gives him the right to do anything he wants; it does not.  He made a statement that obstruction of justice is a “phony crime” made up by Democrats.   Obstruction of justice is a federal crime and a crime in all states. It was voted into law by both parties.   Interesting that initially, he claimed that he was not obstructing.  

An intelligent, well educated, and well-read individual understands his own lack of expertise in many areas.  That is why they seek advice from those that actually have greater expertise. That intelligent person welcomes a challenge to their ideas because either they are certain of their convictions or they know their limitations and want to learn more. Intelligent people know what they don’t know, and will not make decisions on their ignorance.  The foolish individual has no idea of what he doesn’t know.  He does not comprehend the concept that there are many alternatives in dealing with difficult problems; selection of the best alternative is no obvious. Whatever so-called solution pops into his head is the right one, all others are false, evil, or treasonous.  Trump exhibits no evidence of intelligence, benefits of education and by his own admission, he does not read.  He does have a talent for tugging at people emotions, particularly fears, and convincing them to follow him.  

Trump fails to take responsibility for his actions and statements.  With recorded video present, he is capable of outright lying by saying the contrary.  In his rally in North Carolina where he distorted the position of the four new female congressional Representatives, he did nothing to calm the crowd. Confronted the next day he said he disagreed with the crowd’s position and that he quickly quieted down the crowd. In actuality, the crow quieted down first and then he spoke.  As Trevor Noah pointed out Usain Bolt was able to sprint for a gold medal in a shorter time; Bolt 9.8 sec, Trump 11 sec.  If something goes wrong it automatically the fault lies elsewhere.  Most presidents have taken to heart the sign on Harry Truman’s desk “The buck stop here.”  Not with Trump; he blames someone else.  Usually, the blame is Democrats or President Obama.  He criticized Obama for using a teleprompter.  Yet when he used a teleprompter and claimed that airports were in the battle scene during the Revolutionary War, it was the fault of the rain and the teleprompter.  The conclusion of this is that he says stuff without thinking. Trump lambasted President Obama for taking too many vacations and playing too much golf.  Yet he plays about 90 rounds of golf per year, or every 4.2 days, to Obama’s 42 rounds or every 8.8 days.  In his campaign, he claimed that he will be too busy running the country, but in a recent rally, he said that the rally can go on for a long time because he has nothing else to do.   To top off the deceit, Trump makes money on his golfing trips.  He golfs at resorts that he owns and the government has to pay for accommodations for his staff and Secret Service to the Trump organization.

Many conservative Christians claim Trump as their own.  It is strange in that Trump’s church attendance was spotty at best; he clearly did not read the Bible on a regular basis.  Yet, the so-called evangelicals heap praises up him.  Some have called him the anointed one.  Very odd, since several previous Presidents had a long history of service to their church, and have spoken about their faith.  These include Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton along with his wife Hillary, George Bush, and Barak Obama.  Strangely the Democratic presidents and candidates were vilified and ridiculed by the Christian right.  And Trump is somehow anointed by God.  The right point to King David in the Bible as having committed many wrongs and yet he was in God’s favor.  This comparison is dead wrong.  David admitted his wrong acts and was deeply sorry.   Trump not only does acknowledge God on a regular basis, and he is never wrong, according to himself.  So why should he be sorry for his acts which are perfectly fine?   I have gone through various media and I still cannot find Scripture-based reasoning that justifies the enthusiastic approval from evangelicals.  Many evangelicals are fervently anti-gay. They preach long sermons on the evils of gay relationships, and cite Scripture to prove their point.  But they conveniently overlook two verses away: “And the man that committeth adultery with another man's wife, even he that committeth adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death.”  (Leviticus 20:10) It is quite clear that Trump has committed adultery many times. So where is the outrage?  Where is the call to death?

Trump’s policies seem to be aimed at destroying the legacy of President Obama.  He and other Republicans were livid when Obama came to office.  McConnell claimed that his number one mission in 2008 was to ensure a single term presidency for Obama.  There was no rational reason for any of this.  A plan was put into law to ensure that as many people have access to health care. It was far from perfect, but it was a good start.  The only Republican proposal for health care was dismantling Obama Care.  During the campaign, Trump promised to keep pre-existing conditions as part of the Affordable Care Act.  As president, he worked hard to eliminate the pre-existing conditions part.  Further Trump loosened environmental standards for industry.  Any reasonable economic analysis indicates that improved environmental regulations are good for health and the economy.  He wanted to force California and several states to stop using their own vehicle emission standards and follow the newly relaxed federal standards.  Funny in that conservatives always speak of state’s rights.  Trump talked about expanding the coal industry. He talked about “beautiful clean coal.”  The economics are not there for clean coal since natural gas is cheaper to extract and cheaper to transport.  The term “clean coal” does not refer to a specific type of coal but rather a process of removing the pollutants from the combustion of coal before they enter the atmosphere.  Obama was the one that launched clean coal regulations that required power plants to install scrubbers on their exhaust.  Trump wanted to loosen these regulations.  Did he actually believe that there was such a substance as clean coal? This assault on the environment is of no benefit to the majority.  It may help oil and coal companies in the short term; but not in the long term. The number of casualties of increased pollution has a wide range of estimates but it is not small.

Trump’s assault on science comes from several fronts.  Denial of anthropogenic global warming is the classic example.  The vast majority of climate scientists do confirm that the earth is getting warmer due to increased carbon dioxide and chloro-fluoro-carbons (CFCs).  The evidence is everywhere: glaciers melting, polar ice melting, hot summers globally and colder winters.  To say that this is a natural phenomenon is absurd.  All you have to do is calculate the amount of carbon burned and the number of trees destroyed and you can account for the increase in atmospheric carbon. These calculations have been done. Various ice samples analyzed for carbon dioxide from nearly a million years ago do not show the current high levels of CO2. The natural fluctuations of CO2 over a period of 800k years range from 160 to 300 parts per million, the typical rise period is 20,000 years. This is the natural cycle.  In the last 70 years, the CO2 levels rose from 300 to 420 parts per million. The other part of global warming consists of refrigerants, CFCs, which are man-made.  The US and EU have bans on these, but the rest of the world does not.  The opposition to man-made global warming comes from a small section of scientists who are not chemists specializing in atmospheric chemistry. The most prominent of these is William Happer, a professor of physics at Princeton.  Never mind that his area of physics does not involve chemistry, he has become the self-appointed expert in a field where he has zero experience. Happer has even said that excess CO2 will help plants grow faster.  That applies to only a few plants, such as algae.  Uncontrolled algae growth can lead to suffocation of sections of the ocean. The algae do absorb CO2, but they also use oxygen as they grow, and algae have used up all the oxygen in algae blooms, killing all other life.  Excess CO2 is water is bad for many living forms: fish, crustaceans, mollusks and particularly coral.  And of course, Happer was selected by Trump to the National Security Council to counter-evidence linking carbon dioxide emissions to global warming.

Trump has dismissed science advisory panels, particularly at the EPA.  They don’t cost a lot and provide very useful information to various parts of government, from defense, security to agriculture. He has claimed expertise in airplane construction, in the case of the Boeing 737Max crashes. He told the Navy that the new electromagnetic catapult systems for launching airplanes from the deck of a carrier should be replaced by the older system of steam.  This is clearly outside the realm of expertise of a real-estate developer with no background in engineering.   Never mind that there were specific reasons for going electromagnetic, and never mind that replacing the e-m systems with steam on carriers would require major work: Trump knows best.  He also called the e-m system “Digital”.  That statement proves that he does not have the slightest idea of what he is talking about.  

Trump’s treatment of people seeking asylum is criminal.  This is a clear violation of human rights.  Separation of small children from parents is draconian.  Yet Trump and his administration have the gall to lie and say that Obama did it too.  Yes, Obama and previous Presidents did separate children from individuals who claimed to be parents, or from abusive parents.  Often smugglers who led people across the border would pose as parents of children so that they would not be indicted as smugglers when caught.  This is very different than massive separation.  Conservatives will say that these people broke the law. People will invoke law breakage when it applies to other, but when they break the law they have full justification; “I was speeding because I am a much better driver than average and I know how to control my car at 120 miles per hour.” The same conservatives will give a pass to all the laws broken by the criminal enterprise known as the Trump Organization.  Throughout history, there have been many laws that were unfair.  In Nazi Germany, it was legal to report a Jew in hiding, and illegal to protect his/her life.  The US had and has so many laws that are unfair and unworkable.  President Bush tried to reform immigration laws in order to permit some form of legal recognition for those in the US without proper documents. Bush’s suggestions were fully rebuffed by Republicans. Several things need to be understood.  1) Seeking asylum is not a crime, and should not be treated as such.  2) Those that are undocumented in the US are generally hard-working people staying under the radar of authorities.  They commit fewer crimes than the overall population because they don’t want to draw attention to themselves and others like them.  3) The vast majority of asylum seekers and undocumented aliens are primarily of Native American origin.  Their ancestors were on this condiment thousands of years ago, well before England, German, and the rest Europe existed as civilized communities.  Their lands were taken by force, from their ancestor’s prospective the lands were seized illegally. The first Europeans settling on the continent were illegal aliens.   Current immigration laws ae a slap in the face of those people that lived in “America” for nearly ten thousand years.  4) The problem is not the fact that people break laws, but that the laws are broken.  5) Treating visitors and strangers with dignity is Biblical all the way back to Genesis.  “Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow. Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’” Leviticus 27:19.  “Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of my brethren you did it to me.” Matthew 25:40. “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink.” Mathew 24:22.   Jesus says that those that treat others badly are in effect treating Jesus badly.  So this abuse of immigrants, legal or not, is unChristian.  “He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”  Mathew 24:45-46.  And one more thing about Conservatives perverting the Bible: they claim that the sin of Sodom was anal sex, particularly male-to-male.  But the Bible says:  “‘Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.“ Ezekiel 16:49.  

Trump’s personality is a matter of opinion. Some may like his style others hate his style.  My observations indicate that he has no sense of humor. Virtually all past presidents had some form of self-deprecation. The laughed at themselves and laughed when others joked about them.  The conservative idol, Reagan, had a great sense of humor and he laughed when comedians roasted him.  Most presidents loved the White House Correspondents' Dinner.  Trump did not attend any of the dinners.  Why?  My guess is that he is fearful of criticism, regardless whether it is true or said in jest. Trump is very defensive of any criticism. As soon as something even mildly critical is said or written he goes right to Twitter.  He is very thin-skinned.  Most presidents knew that they would get positive and negative feedback for everything they say and do; that is part of the job.  And most presidents will take some of the negative feedback as a learning lesson; either a reflection on their policy or change in communication style to reach out to a greater fraction of the audience.  Trump rarely says something positive and unifying.   His speeches are filled with self-praise, condemnation of detractors, insults, complaints about alleged injustice heaped upon the US from other countries.  The self-praise is so juvenile; he should have outgrown it 55 years ago. Perhaps his parents did not provide that praise when he was a boy, so now he has to do it himself. Trump’s speaking style is exceptionally just-post-pubescent; meaning he sounds like a boastful teenager who just experienced his first surge of testosterone.   He claims to have the best education.  He claims to have a high IQ.  The best education part is kind of an exaggeration, since he spent only two years at an Ivy League school, and did not graduate with any honors.  The high IQ claims are so undignified.  If someone has a high IQ it will be self-evident in their speech and actions.  Dear Trump supporter ask yourself why Trump has a such a fragile ego?  Has he not learned what politics means?  A truly intelligent person will either consider criticism or shrug it off as bullshit. My hypothesis is that deep down inside Trump knows that he is stupid and intellectually vapid. The only way for him to project effectiveness is to act as a bully.  He will generate an “enemy” and convince his supporters that he alone can be victorious against that “enemy.”  Many of his supporters are equally intellectually challenged and thrive on hatred of others; others who are different than they are.  Rather than take responsibility for their misfortune, real or perceived, they need to heap hatred upon the innocent. The biggest puzzle in the realm of Trump supporters is the smart well educated.  People with degrees and honors from top universities can be found in the midst of Trump advocates.  How this happens is a total mystery to me.  If you are a well-educated Trump enthusiast please please tell me why?  I beg you: tell me why?

Trump’s associates had the most indictments and convictions of any administration, including Nixon’s. The Mueller report clearly states that it did not exonerate Trump of any crimes.  The only reason that Mueller did not indict Trump is based on the principle that a sitting president cannot be indicted. It is quite clear that Trump tried to stop the Mueller investigation on numerous occasions.  He fired James Comey because Comey refused to stop an investigation into Trump’s misdeeds.  When Nixon was confronted with evidence against him, he resigned.  Nixon knew that he obstructed justice, and for the good of the country he left office.  Now Trump confronted with irrefutable evidence is claiming that obstruction of justice is a “phony crime.”  What does that mean? Most likely he knows that he obstructed justice, and s trying to define the concept of obstruction as a made-up crime solely written to oppress him.  He appears to actually have admitted to obstructing justice.

Trump is one of the few presidents who does not have and never had a pet.  I can’t fully trust a person who has a dislike for animals. There is something creepy about a pet hater.  George W. Bush was far from my favorite president, but he was cool. Bush had a dog named Barney, a Scottish terrier. My Barney was a cocker spaniel, but my current dog is a Scotty.

As he said of Hillary Clinton, who was not even close to being indicted, so I say “Lock him up!” And as long as he stays free of prison I will deny that this country is “one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”   This country’s justice is:  Freedom for the rich regardless of crimes committed, jail for the poor regardless of crimes committed.

Appendix: Obama’s birth

Trump asserted that Barak H. Obama was not born in the United States.  Facts:  1) His mother, Ann Dunham, was born in Kansas USA, his father was born in Kenya. 2) A verified birth certificate is on record with the State of Hawaii in August 1961. 3) Obama Sr (the father) graduated from The University of Hawaii in June 1962.  4) No records exist of Obama Sr traveling to Kenya in 1960 to 1961.  He traveled to Cambridge Massachusetts to study at Harvard in the fall of 1962.  4) Ann Dunham traveled to Seattle in September 1961 to study at the University of Washington.  There is no record of her travel to Kenya.  Since Ann was a student she lived on a limited income.  Her mother was a bank employee (eventually becoming a bank VP); her father was a furniture salesman.  Based on income levels at the time, their combined income could not exceed $15,000 per year in 1961, more like $12,000.  Based on these schedules it is unlikely that Ann would travel to Kenya and then back to the US so quickly, and it is unlikely that Obama Sr. could make the journey since he was studying.  The journey would have been very long from Honolulu to Nairobi. Currently, it would be three to four separate flights.  In the early 60s it would have been many more, with refueling stops on the way; say five flights with two or three refueling stops.  Today such a trip would last from 30 up to 50 hours; in the 60s it would have been much more.  Flights did not run daily and layovers would have been common, requiring a stay at a hotel. My experience flying from San Francisco to Nairobi involved two stops on the way to London, a twelve-hour wait in London and a long flight to Nairobi.  Similar case with San Francisco to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 14-hour wait (both ways) in Frankfurt.  Most likely the trip would have taken four days; the same for the return trip.  The cost of airfare was quite high in 1961. The estimated travel cost for the journey in 60s dollars is in the range of $3000 to $5000.  So a pregnant woman of limited means takes a harrowing three to four-day journey without her husband and returns with a baby.  For what reason?  Where would she get the money?  Use up nearly half of her parent’s annual salary?  Makes no sense at all, to endure such stress at such high cost. Despite all the evidence to the contrary and the lack of rational motive on the part of Ann, Donald Trump insisted that Barak Obama was not born in the USA.  He spent years trying to prove that Obama was born outside the US.  Ted Cruz and John McCain were not born in the USA. Ted Cruz was born in Canada and only his mother was a US citizen at that time. (Sounds similar?)  John McCain was born in Panama; both parents were US citizens.   Trump hurtled many disparaging and personal insults at Cruz and McCain, but never questioned their right to be president.  Yet, Cruz’s case is identical to the alleged case of Obama being born in Kenya.  There is only one motive for Trump’s action: Racism.  Trump’s racism has been well documented in his role as real-estate owner; he had a policy not to rent to African-Americans.  He called blacks lazy.  He put out a full-page ad calling for the death penalty for a group of Black and Latino young men.  After they had been fully exonerated of murder. He refused to believe the DNA evidence. The list of racist actions and statements is long and can easily found online. In his presidency, he tried to eviscerate Obama’s legacy, regardless of the merit.  There is not the slightest doubt in the fact that Trump is a racist.  

https://www.businessinsider.com/donald-trump-businesses-failures-successes-2016-10#16-projects-the-times-concluded-had-problems-2

  https://skepticalscience.com/argument.php

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