#the only time a year i actually manage to put on some weight and am less like a stick bug

[reticent-fate]

part 11/26ish

anyone remember those scales with the springs in 'em? all i ever see these days are digital scales but those things made the best noises. i think i've seen some kitchen scales that still use spring mechanisms, but it's been a while.

technology is weird.

from the beginning

[freebooter4ever]

ugh i have to. like. pack. tomorrow. i hate packing for trips so much. like how am i supposed to anticipate every need i might have?

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 37. go piss girl

YOUR HEART WAS POUNDING WHEN YOU HEARD THE LIGHT KNOCK ON YOUR CABIN DOOR.

It wasn't that you were nervous—okay, maybe you were a little nervous—but it felt as if butterflies had swarmed your stomach with their fluttering wings. Now, the space really did feel small. You weren't sure how Jay was going to fit in the same seat as yours, but the idea was strangely exciting.

"Hey," you whispered when you pulled open the door for him. You scooted to the wall so that you could make some more space for him. "I just pulled up the movie."

"Oh, we're actually watching Shrek," Jay deadpanned. When he took his seat and closed the door again, you both became hyper-aware of the proximity once your arms were pressed against each other. "Kinda cramped in here."

"It should be fine," you said quickly, trying to mask how flustered you were by gesturing toward the screen. "Look, they have all three movies!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying around for three whole movies."

You shot him a dark look, feigning great offense as you folded your arms across your chest. Jay seemed to not realize the weight of his words until after seeing your reaction, and he immediately flooded with panic.

"Wait, I meant, like—not that, just—"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." You giggled, diverting your attention away to start the movie. "Have you ever watched Shrek before? I used to watch it every single day when I was a kid, apparently."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my mom was mortified when I wanted to"—you turned back to look at him and your breath caught in your throat for a moment; Jay was looking down at you with those sincere eyes that were far too easy to get lost in—"dress up as Shrek for Halloween."

"Shrek, huh? Did you ever get to dress up as him?"

"No, I ended up being Fiona. All of my friends back then were dressing up like princesses, and my mom wanted to dress me up."

"Ouch. Well, you can be Shrek this year."

"You'd have to be my Princess Fiona then."

"Whatever you want."

His eyes went a touch unfocused, and you started to get the feeling that he didn't exactly care about Shrek costumes anymore. You weren't even completely sure he was talking about them.

You only started realizing it recently, but why did he always look at you like that?

Like he wanted to kiss you.

You couldn't pinpoint it before because you weren't really looking. It was hard to catch most of the time because he was so well-guarded, but in fractions of seconds, you could catch him looking into your eyes as if they held the world, as if he would fall apart if he tore his gaze away.

So, hypothetically, if you made a move on him, it wouldn't be a completely miscalculated step, right? It was obvious something was going on between you two, and there were clear signs, right? You weren't clinically insane?

Your mind was swimming with questions when you realized that almost half of the movie had gone by, and you were zoning out for its entirety. Reality only sharpened when you realized Jay had leaned back to put his arm around your shoulders. Unfortunately, now you couldn't care less about Shrek and Donkey; you could only think about how warm Jay's body was and how hot your chest felt.

Your chest must have been rising and falling too fast because Jay asked, "Are you good? Am I taking up too much room?"

"No! You're good, it's just a little tight in here—yeah, that's all," you replied absentmindedly.

"Oh, well..." He looked around helplessly. (There wasn't much to look at, anyway.) "Wanna sit on my lap?"

Your heart jumped, leaped, imploded—whatever. So much adrenaline was pumping through your blood that you hardly even processed whether you replied to him or not. All you knew was that you were climbing onto Jay's lap before he could even get adjusted.

"Whoa," he murmured, holding onto your hips to keep you steady (but all he managed to do was ignite a fire inside you). "I thought you said no."

"Did I? Sorry, I mix up yes and no sometimes." What the hell? No, you don't, your brain reminded immediately after.

He grinned. "Oh, yeah, common mistake."

You were too busy staring straight ahead and trying to ignore how badly you wanted to crumble into his arms that you nearly jumped when you heard Jay's soft chuckle against your back.

His hands slid up to your waist, and he murmured into your ear, "I'm gonna move you to sit between my legs—hold on."

(Normally, this would make you horny, but Lord Farquaad and Gingy were getting into their exchange of The Muffin Man nursery rhyme that never failed to make you laugh.)

"This good?" Jay asked once you two were settled. You were leaning back against his chest as you laid between his legs. Jay had his hands on his thighs, but you swore they were inching closer to you.

"Really good."

"Yeah?"

His pointer finger grazed your skin ever-so-slightly, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. After all, you didn't want him to think his hands weren't welcome. As you two fell into complete silence, watching the movie but not really watching it, you found that Jay's hand was getting closer and closer until four of his fingers were on your thigh.

He used this time to ask (in a much lower voice now), "How about this?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, your voice hitching in an almost humiliating way, and you could feel Jay's chest swell as his hand moved fully onto your thigh. "I like that."

The movie was nearing its end by now, and you were both still silently watching, Jay's hand hardly moving from your thigh. There were a few times where he moved it down, only to bring it back up again, but you were careful not to react in a way that would make things awkward.

But when you realized that he was probably going to leave, you figured this was your chance to make him stay, to see if things could progress. Wasn't this the perfect time, anyway? With everyone asleep and a cabin to yourself, this was probably the most privacy you would get for the weekend.

You turned your head just enough to look up at him, and those butterflies swarmed around in a torrent when his gaze dropped to your lips for a brief second. You straightened up a little to place your hand on his shoulder, angling your body a little to face him.

"Um," you started in a small voice, "do you wanna stay a little longer?"

Jay's hand moved up to grip your inner thigh with just enough pressure to keep you at a comfortable angle, and, again, you fought down the gasp. "With you?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

The space between you two was getting smaller and smaller. It was as if some magnetic pull was drawing your bodies closer and closer... and your lips were inches apart... and then Jay jerked away, as if he had snapped out of some trance.

"I can't, sorry," he said quickly, removing his hand from your thigh to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "It—it's getting late, and I should really get some sleep before we land."

Disappointed, you started moving so that he could have an easier time getting out of your cabin. You were half-expecting things to end up like this; moving fast with him wasn't going to work, but at least you knew now that he definitely felt some way about you.

"Goodnight," you told him, managing a smile. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"Yeah, it was fun."

He gave you that look again before closing your cabin door. You felt yourself deflate a little. It was an odd feeling, but you felt lonely when he was gone. You never really felt this way about Sunghoon since you got used to the loneliness, but Jay, who made an effort even as your friend, made you feel different.

Suddenly, your cabin door flew open again, and Jay was standing with regret painted all over his face.

"Look, I didn't mean to do all that and just back off," he said in a rush, sitting at the edge of your seat so that he could mutter everything to you in a low voice. "I just... it's hard right now, like, right now, as in—"

"Stop," you said, smiling ear-to-ear as your chest flooded with relief. Yeah, maybe you just needed to move a little slower. "I get it, don't worry."

"It's not that I don't..." he trailed off, gazing at you with deep longing etched in his eyes before he sighed. "Just... doing this right now is—"

"Jay, please," you tried again, reaching out to grab his hand. You tilted your head. "You can just make it up to me later. We can grab dinner in Monte Carlo?"

He seemed to be much less distressed now, merely sighing with contentment and nodding over and over again. "Yeah, let's do that."

"Goodnight, Jay," you sang with a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

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[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're convinced you and Bradley could go on the same date a million times over, and you would find something new to love about it each time. You don't want the weekend to come to an end, but at least you get to enjoy time with a favorite visitor on Sunday evening. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was dressed and lounging back on the pillows with his arms tucked behind his head. You were getting ready to go out, and he was thoroughly enjoying watching you put on your red lingerie. His favorite set.

"We could just stay in," he murmured as you clasped your bra and rolled your eyes. Your face was made up and you were standing at the foot of the bed wearing barely anything at all. "We should just stay in."

You scoffed and said, "You should let Tramp out so we can leave in twenty minutes. I want to eat hot sauce with my sexy husband."

"Fine," Bradley sighed with a smile, pausing in the doorway to watch you slip your red dress over your head. The same one you wore on your first date together. The one Bradley loved you in every time you wore it. And then he walked through the kitchen to let Tramp outside. Your new French press was on the counter along with the half unpacked Amazon box that neither of you had time to get to all week. But he reached inside and pulled out one of his new notebooks and took a pen out of the drawer.

Bradley had been working late all week for various reasons. He'd missed a lot while he was deployed. Plus the Slayer and Dean court-martial was moving ahead. And also, Maverick had offered him the chance to meet some pilots fresh out of flight school with the promise that Bradley could help with some training exercises in the coming months. He was tired. Next month was his thirty-seventh birthday. He was feeling his age.

He clicked the pen in his hand and opened the notebook to the first page.

My wife does this thing, and it drives me absolutely wild. When I tell her I'm tired or point out a gray hair in my mustache or mention that I've been feeling my age, she just laughs at me. Sure, I can still run ten miles and lift weights for hours on end, but she can wear me out in an instant. Emotionally, mentally, or physically. She can say one sentence to me like, "I want to go eat hot sauce with my sexy husband," and I am emotionally tanked for the rest of the day. Because I fucking believe her. She actually does want to eat her favorite food with me. And she actually does think I'm sexy. And she's too smart, so trying to keep up with her mentally drains me every single time. And physically... Well. That's where she manages to

"You ready to go, Roo?" you asked, walking into the kitchen looking exactly like you had more than a year and a half ago when you and he were just starting to fall in love. Well, he was already half in love with you by the time that first date rolled around. And by the end of the night, he was a goner.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching out for his hand with a little crease between your eyebrows.

"Nothing," he rasped as his eyes dipped down to your cleavage. "Just thinking about how I don't even have to try to play it cool tonight, unlike on our first date." He leaned down and kissed your lips softly and then added, "You look fucking incredible."

"I don't care what you say, we're not staying in for the night," you whispered, running your fingers along his tattoo and pulling him in for a kiss that was clearly at odds with your words.

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart," Bradley replied. He let Tramp back inside and then walked out to the Bronco with your hand in his. And then he got to do one of his favorite things. He opened the door for you, helped you climb in, and buckled your seatbelt. But as he started to pull his right hand away from your body, you caught it and held him close.

"Hey," you whispered. "I don't have to try to play it cool tonight either."

"No?" he asked, his eyes fluttering closed as your lips met his.

"No. I love you so much," you replied. "And I would go on the same date with you a million times, because each time would be a little different, and I know I would remember them all."

Bradley could feel goosebumps on your arm, and your eyes looked a little vulnerable. Last time you and he had visited the hot sauce restaurant and the pier from your first date, it had been on your birthday. And you cried that night. A lot. Because you wanted to be pregnant, but you weren't. He briefly wondered how many other times you'd cried for that reason that he didn't even know about.

He wanted a baby. He still did. But it wasn't his top priority. He understood now how much you'd let it hurt you month after month. And it wasn't the same for him. He knew that now. And he didn't want you to feel like you were failing yourself, your relationship or him ever again. Because you weren't. You were more than enough.

"I remember every minute I've ever spent with you, Sweetheart. And I dream about it when I'm deployed. And I want to have decades of stuff to remember."

"Just keep feeding me hot sauce."

"I fucking plan on it."

-------------------------

The ride up to Del Mar was beautiful. The sky faded from orange to purple as Bradley drove and sang along to his Motown playlist with his hand on your thigh. You thought about how you had a panic attack on your birthday after the negative pregnancy tests, but the memory of it didn't hurt as much now.

"What are you thinking about, Baby Girl?"

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye as he parallel parked the Bronco in front of the restaurant. "Honestly?"

He met your eyes briefly as he straightened out the tires. "Yeah, honestly."

"I still want to have a baby, Roo," you said easily, this time without your heart aching. "I still think about it. But it doesn't make me upset like it used to."

He killed the engine, and coaxed you over to his lap. "Come here." When you were settled on him with your hands on his shoulders, he kissed you. "I still think about it, too. I still want it. But not at the expense of this," he added, gesturing between his body and yours before he let his big hand settle on your hip. "I don't want anything at the expense of this."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Neither do I. And I know we agreed we can talk about this at length in a few more months, but I don't want to stop trying. And if there's still something wrong after a year, maybe we can talk to some doctors?"

"There's nothing wrong with us, okay? There's never going to be anything wrong. But if we still don't get pregnant, there are other options," he told you gently. "Like... fertility treatment or adoption agencies. But whatever we do, it's 50/50. We do it together. And I promise I'll take care of you better than I did before."

You were silent for a beat, because these were things you'd already thought about. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "I'm just saying, if we want a baby, there are other ways to make it happen. But I'm never going to stop wanting to fuck you, so don't think for a second that we're taking that off the table."

You shook with silent laughter before your giggles bubbled over. "Okay, we won't take that off the table, Roo."

He kissed your cheek and said, "Keep your pussy on the table." But he was laughing too, and you felt really good inside. His hands were heavy on your hips, and his lips were nipping at your neck. "Just let me feed you hot sauce and love you, and then we'll figure the rest out later if we even need to. I wanna give it a little more time, okay? Some more time with you off birth control. Some more time with us just being us. Like this."

"Yes," you agreed. "This is perfect. This feels good."

Now he was rubbing his mustache along your cleavage, and you knew you needed to get him inside the restaurant while you still could. "I'm hungry," you whispered.

"Me too," he agreed with a smirk.

"For dinner," you clarified with a laugh.

When you finally got him inside the restaurant, you could hear his stomach growling, so you didn't feel too bad. "Order two meals you want to try, Baby Girl," he said casually once you were seated.

You loved it when he let you do that, which was most of the time. And he always let you finish whichever one you liked better. And he never complained. You could feel his eyes on your body when you walked around to look at all the hot sauces on the shelves. Every time you glanced at him across the restaurant, he gave you a little nod or a wink. And there was no doubt in your mind that you were just as attracted to him now as you were the first time you were here.

When you brought some that you wanted to try back to your table, a brand new bottle of your favorite green sauce was sitting next to your favorite beer. "How am I supposed to deal with you, Bradley?"

"It's your favorite. And it's a tradition."

You laughed. "You bought me a whole case of 12 bottles online."

"You go through a bottler per week."

"That's actually fair."

Then your meals were delivered to the table, and you doused both of them in a rainbow of sauces and started eating. The two of you ended up sharing both meals, because you couldn't decide which one you liked better. And that one beer made you feel calm, and now Bradley's cheeks were rosy. After your conversation in the Bronco and the past week with him, you felt like all of the weight and pressure you put on yourself was easing up.

After dinner, you were laughing as he led you down the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around your waist. And you couldn't keep your hands off him either. "Why are we passing the Bronco? We should go home."

"Not yet," he whispered in your ear.

You gasped. "Are we going back to the silent disco?"

"Well," he rasped, looking at you with a wince. "Not exactly. I've been trying to get you back there for one, but they always seem to be when I'm deployed. But I had another idea. Let's walk down the pier."

You snorted. "You just want a handjob."

"Please," he replied, leading you across the street and down the pier. "Give me a little credit. I don't just want a handjob."

"Well that's good, because there are a lot of people out tonight," you whispered as he spun you around so your back was pressed against the railing and you were looking up at his face. "You're really handsome."

His cheeks were still rosy, but you thought perhaps your words had deepened the color. You ran your fingers along his scarred neck and across his cheek and into his hair. His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and you studied him closely. He looked a little older than when you met him, with a few gray hairs here and there and maybe another wrinkle or two on his face. He'd been through a lot since then. He had the scars on his arm to prove it. But you didn't want to add emotional scars; he had plenty of those already. You just let him melt into your right hand as your left rested on his chest, and you looked at your diamond ring.

It was yours now, but sometimes you still thought of it as Carole Bradshaw's ring. Not in a bad way. Just as a form of recognition. It felt like an honor that you were wearing something so special. Maybe that was thanks in part to the words Bradley had read to you from his notebook. His recent thoughts and musings. But it was clear that some things were more important than others.

"I love you," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Are you ready for your newest playlist?"

"What is it?" you asked, his question pulling you back to the pier and the grin on his face.

"Just a little something I've been thinking about and finally put together." He pulled his earbuds out of his pocket and held one up for you to take. Then he tucked the other one in his own ear and kissed your nose. "It's all the songs I can remember from the silent disco. Plus what we listened to in the car that night. Oh, and a surprise track. Because I know you'll think it's funny."

Your heart swelled as you slid the earbud into place, and a few seconds later, the Cher song that played at the silent disco was on. And your heart was beating a little faster. And you couldn't stop smiling. "You really remembered all the songs we heard that night?"

Bradley shrugged. "I may have missed some. We'll add them if you remember more, okay?"

"I love this," you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck. "I love you."

He kissed your jaw and whispered, "I told you... I remember every minute I've spent with you. Or at least the way you've made me feel at any given time. Maybe the memories of some of the songs are a little hazy for me, but I remember how fucking good you made me feel that night. And how I was proud to be there with you. I still feel that way."

"Fuck, Bradley. You can't make me cry while Britney Spears is playing."

He laughed. "Okay. Let's dance then."

-----------------------

It was dark out. The other people who had been enjoying the view of the ocean from the pier had dissipated. An orange glow from the scattered lampposts softly lit your face like a dream. Bradley had taken to singing all the songs to you, just to hear you laugh and sing along yourself. The random mix of pop songs and '80s ballads and romantic Motown tunes kept a smile on your face. You laughed when Hey Soul Sister played, and you threatened to text Nat. And the whole time, Bradley held you close with his hands at your hips and waist.

"Oh," he said when the music went silent. "That's the end of the playlist."

"It's over?" you asked, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him longingly. You removed your earbud and handed it back to him.

"Baby Girl, it was almost three hours long," he informed you with a laugh.

You tipped your head back and groaned. "It was perfect." Then you gasped softly as his lips found the pretty expanse of your neck and chest which were on display for him. He was sucking gently on your collarbone as you said, "I knew I was in trouble after the first time you brought me here. You were so sincere that night."

Bradley hummed against your warm skin. "I was already thinking about spending the rest of my life with you."

"No! Stop it. We had just met." Your voice sounded breathy as he drew little shapes along your dress with his thumbs, your head still tipped back.

"Didn't matter. Already knew."

Your hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair, and he nibbled along the tops of your breasts as you made the sweetest little sounds. Your nipples were tight peaks against the fabric of your dress, and when Bradley ran his lips lower to feel you, he groaned. The texture of your lace bra filled his imagination with possibilities.

You tilted your head up, and when he met your eyes, you had the audacity to look surprised. "You're hard, Roo."

He raised one eyebrow at you, just short of rolling his eyes. "Listen... when two people love each other very, very much..."

Your laughter filled him. "Oh, is that how this works? You know, that sentence can be interpreted a lot of ways."

He had to close his eyes as you gently squeezed his length through his jeans. "It's how it works with you." He huffed out a breath when you licked his ear and added, "You make me greedy. I want everything."

You hummed softly as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Bradley glanced around to make sure you and he were truly alone as you whispered, "Then let's have everything. Even if it takes some time."

"I love that," he groaned as your cool hand dipped inside his boxer briefs and closed around him. One stroke and he was putty in your hands.

"And we'll start with the handjob that I was seriously contemplating giving you on our first date."

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. You're too much." Bradley bucked against your belly as you ran your thumb along his balls. He'd let you go a little further with this, but then he was taking you home for the night. Just a little more. Each stroke was incredible as he kissed your lips.

But when you started asking him questions, he should have known he was in trouble. Because you always got unbridled information out of him when you put him in situations like this. "What do you want for your birthday, Roo?"

He was watching your hand pass over his tip as he grunted, "Another sexy calendar."

"That can be arranged," you said sweetly. "And how do you feel about me starting to save up some money for a first anniversary trip?"

"Do it," he growled as you rubbed at his precum with your thumb. But then he wrenched his hips away, and your eyes were transfixed on his cock as it leapt for you.

"You don't want to finish here?" you asked, your eyes moving up his body to his face as you licked him from your thumb.

After he zipped himself carefully back in his jeans, he said, "I don't want to ruin your dress, and I don't want to get arrested. Let's go home." He didn't even wait for you to respond. He just turned and picked you up for a piggy back ride back to the Bronco.

The drive home was similar to that very first date. After you kissed him while he fumbled with your seat belt trying buckle you in, he turned on another playlist before he started the engine. But this time he was driving to the house that you shared, not the apartment you used to live in with Maria. And he didn't have to leave you for the night to prove to himself that he could, and that maybe he was good enough. He was your husband now, and you had deemed him good enough for you.

Bradley's hand was gripping your thigh as he saw the craftsman down the block. As soon as he was pulling into the driveway, you were crawling toward him, and he barely had the Bronco in park before you were straddling his thighs.

"I want you in every way." That sentence was the best example of how you wore him out emotionally. It was fucking beautiful, and he could spend all night just thinking about it. But you were kissing him now, and he was already aroused again as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

"You own me." You really seemed to love that response as your lips stayed gentle on his and your hand drifted down his body to his zipper again. It was so dark outside, even in the neighborhood, but Bradley could see the question in your eyes as you pulled back a little bit. Maybe you wanted to make sure he wanted this, too. Maybe you wanted him inside you instead of anything else. He just wanted to be with you. "Anything you want, Sweetheart."

"Okay."

He shimmied his jeans and underwear down his hips, lifting you up as well with a soft laugh. Then you took his hands in yours and guided them slowly up under your dress. He was treated to the sight of you unzipping your dress and unclasping your bra and pulling them down so he could see your pretty tits and peaked nipples. But then his hands froze under your dress.

"You changed your underwear. Earlier tonight. After I left the bedroom."

Your laughter had your tits bouncing just enough to distract Bradley and lure his lips to them.

"Oh!" you gasped as he sucked on you. "I did. I know you like the red ones, but I wanted these instead. Do you know which ones they are?"

That was a ridiculous question, and you knew it. He ran his thumb up your slit and could feel the satin fabric and the fancy embroidered letters as you bucked. He sucked harder until you called out his name and braced your hands on his shoulders. You were wearing the underwear you had specially made for the honeymoon.

"Of course I know, Mrs. Bradshaw."

"You passed the test!"

Bradley tugged your panties to the side and thrust up into you in one fluid motion until he bottomed out. "That's a test I will always pass."

Your hands were scrambling around his neck as you leaned in closer and kissed him. He led your hips in a slow roll with his hands on your ass and whispered, "Just. Like. That."

You kept the pace going, already panting softly as he brought one hand back up to your tits. His other fingers trailed around your hip, and he tucked them inside the front of your panties. As soon as he brushed your clit with his knuckle, you whined for him. "Daddy."

It had been a while since he heard you call him that. And fuck if he didn't love it. But you looked almost surprised that you'd said it out loud, eyes wide as you rode him.

"I fucking love it when you call me that," he crooned as he pinched your nipple. Your pussy was already fluttering around him as you kept that perfect tempo. Bradley pressed his mouth to yours as you babbled incoherently, and it was just a lost cause as you raked your fingers through his hair. He came inside you as he kept pressing his knuckle to your clit.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he coaxed as your movements sped up and then slowed as your cries echoed inside the Bronco. Then your lips were all over his before you abruptly broke away.

Your voice was a sweet little gasp as you said, "Don't make a mess on the upholstery."

With a laugh rumbling deep in his chest, Bradley opened the door and lifted you down from the driver's seat. "Just one of the many reasons we're married."

--------------------------

You and Bradley were lounging in bed on Sunday morning, and he was doing a really poor job of making you want to leave to meet Cam and Maria for brunch.

"Aren't you supposed to be golfing today?" you asked with a laugh as he pinned your wrists over your head on the pillow.

"Yep," he replied softly. "Supposed to meet Jake, Javy and Bob in less than an hour."

You sighed as his lips met the underside of your breast. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed then?"

"I'd rather go for round three and then drink champagne in the bathtub with you."

Now that did sound nice. The weekend had been so much fun. Going up to the hot sauce restaurant had been perfect. You were exhausted all over from having sex and taking Tramp on long beach walks and staying up too late watching movies last night. And Bradley finished reading his notebook to you and promised he'd start from the beginning all over again. Frankly, you could use a nap already, so you weren't really sure how Bradley was doing so well at the moment.

"I'm supposed to go to brunch," you whispered, and Bradley rolled off of you with a groan.

"I'll get side eye for a month from Maria and Cam if you don't go," he said. "So I guess I'll just go play golf."

"We can do round three later," you promised, kissing his ear as you climbed out of bed and started to get ready. "You want me to bring you back some avocado toast?" you asked with a smile.

He made a disgusted face. "You know I hate that stuff. I'll just day drink and eat protein bars like a normal person until you feed me dinner."

"If I decide to feed you dinner later."

Bradley's face looked panicked. "You have to. Please? Sweetheart," he called, springing out of bed and following you to the bathroom. "Please?"

"You're ridiculous, Bradley. Go get a pack of chicken out of the freezer, and I'll make you some Marry Me Rooster tonight."

"Thank you." He kissed you so long and so passionately, you actually felt a little dizzy when he walked out of the room. "He's ridiculous," you muttered as you pressed your fingertips to your lips.

When you finally made it to brunch fifteen minutes late, Cam was glaring at you. "Maria wouldn't let me order anything until you got here. And I'll just bet you're late because Lieutenant Commander Mustache was doing something nasty to you."

You burst into laughter as you slid into the booth next to him. "I mean... I was just helping him with his golf clubs."

"The two of you are fucking filthy," he replied, flagging down the waitress while you and Maria laughed.

Brunch with the two of them was always fun, and you were on your second mimosa when Bradley texted you.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Jake wants to know if we can watch Jeremiah tonight if he can manage to get Cat to agree to go to a movie. I told him I had to check with the boss. He laughed and said he should have just texted you instead of asking me... oh wait, I think he's texting you now. Why did I even bother? And then you got a text from Jake asking very nicely if he and Cat could drop Jeremiah off later on their way to a movie. You told them both yes, and when you got home from brunch, you started to clean up the living room. You found your underwear from last night on the coffee table, and your bra was draped over the arm of the couch.

"Don't look at me like that," you told Tramp. "We were just having a good time, okay?" Then you smiled, because you knew that your pup was going to love licking crumbs off of the one year old visitor and following him around the room. "Your friend is coming over. I expect you to be well behaved."

-----------------------------

"He's just so fucking cute."

"Roo! Stop swearing in front of the child!"

Bradley looked up at you from all fours on the living room floor. "Isn't he too young for it to matter?" he asked in all seriousness.

You were gaping at him like he was an idiot, and he started laughing. "The last thing I need is Cat mad at me because his first word is the f-word."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "If he doesn't learn it from me, then I'm sure he'll learn it from Jake."

"Yeah, well that's Jake's problem," you muttered, ducking back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Bradley scooped Jeremiah up and said, "You're so freaking cute. Is that better?" The little bubble of laughter he got in response was most likely a yes, so he just went with it. "Let's see here. It's almost dinner time. And then I'll bet my hot wife will read us that book about trucks that you liked so much."

"I'll read it now," you said as you walked back into the room. "Dinner is not quite ready yet."

"Hell yes, she's going to read it to us now," Bradley said as he and Jeremiah crawled across the floor to the diaper bag where the book was stashed. He unzipped it and watched the kid reach in and pull everything out including the book. "Nice work. But my knees can't take much more."

With a groan, Bradley scooped him and the book up and carried them to the couch where you were sitting with Tramp. And you looked calm and relaxed as you held the child on your lap and opened the book. Your voice was so sweet, and you were so beautiful, Bradley noticed that Jeremiah seemed more interested in you than the story at times. And it made him smile, because that was pretty much the same way he always looked at you, too.

But he was done stressing about all of it. Bradley was in love with you, and the weekend was everything he wanted. Having a kid like Jeremiah all to yourselves would be a cherry on top of an already perfect life. And if you and he were both still keen on the idea next year, there were options to be discussed at length.

Bradley let himself hope, just the tiniest bit, that maybe you and he would get lucky before then. But he wouldn't drown in that hope like he had before. And he wouldn't let that hope overshadow how great things were right now. But he wouldn't abandon it either. He laughed as he thought about how insightful his notebook entry was going to be later tonight after Jeremiah got picked up.

"Should I read it again?" you asked, looking up at Bradley.

He kissed your cheek. "At least one more time, Sweetheart. We can't get enough of your voice."

You smiled as he and Jeremiah settled in to hear the favorite story again.

------------------------------

The perfect date to do over and over. Little Jeremiah is too sweet, I'm just hoping Cat and Jake are enjoying themselves, too. Just hang in there guys... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

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[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything alright, Steve?”

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

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

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

“I don’t know what to do…”

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

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

“What if they don’t like me…?”

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

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

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

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

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

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

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

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

“Ma’am?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

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

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

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

Steven Grant Rogers.

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

Always.

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

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

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

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

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

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

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

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

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

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“I don’t look out of place?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Glad to be of service.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Beginning

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

Back before he was anything.

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

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

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

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

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

Play it cool, (Y/N).

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

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

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

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

“That makes two of us.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

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

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

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

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

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

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

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

“On it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could see yourself making a home here.

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

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

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

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

…Ready For It?

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

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

You nodded, waiting for orders.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

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

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

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

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

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

Wonderstruck

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

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

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

Someone knocked on the door.

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

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost.”

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

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

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

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

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

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

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

“The honor is mine.”

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

“Steve gave it to me.”

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

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

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

“My tolerance is too good.”

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

“A what?” Steve asked.

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

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

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

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

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, for what?”

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

“Beer Pong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Timeless

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

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

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

“Morning. You’re here early.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

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

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

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

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

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

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

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

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

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

“Woah.”

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

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

“Is it?”

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

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

“Feels like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was what?”

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

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

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

He laughed. “Hey!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a frog?”

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

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

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

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

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

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

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

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

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

Time stood still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Wildest Dreams

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

Theoretically, of course.

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

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

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

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“You cooking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

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

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

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

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible String

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

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

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

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

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

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

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

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

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

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

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

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

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

“What order did you watch them in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

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

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

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

“About me?” Steve whispered.

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

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

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

“How old were you?”

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

“Until the mall?”

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

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

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

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

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

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

Out of the Woods

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

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

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

“Thanks.” You replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

***

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

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

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come Find Me in the Future

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Steve.”

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

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

“Sleepy tea?”

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

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

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

“What’s it about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

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

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

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

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me know what you think.”

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

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

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

Today was too important for that.

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

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

“Morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

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

“Shit, wait—!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ironic.”

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

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

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

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

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: After the entire fiasco with my cat destroying my previous keyboard, I am pleased to say I managed to buy a new one and still managed to get this up in time to hurt/frustrate you all a little more. We're inching closer to some comfort though! I believe the next installment will be titled "The Weight of Grief" for this series. Enjoy the angst and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705

Curled up on your couch, you were comfortably cocooned in a blanket and completely focused on the book in your hands. Over the last few nights after work you’d been reading it, taking some time to escape into a romance that actually had a happy ending–unlike your love life. You’d been looking forward to having a quiet night in tonight, especially after the long and stressful day you’d had at work. 

And also because you’d gotten another call from Matt earlier today. 

After the dinner at Matt’s apartment with your friends almost three weeks ago now, you’d really tried to consider what Karen had said. Maybe it was time to try to distance yourself from Matt. If he wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend, you really couldn’t keep torturing yourself over him. You needed to try to move on, to put some space between the pair of you, but you certainly couldn’t do that if you kept jumping at every opportunity to spend time with him. Which is what you’d always done when it came to Matt.

So you’d been distancing yourself from him. Avoiding him lately until you finally thought you might be ready to see him again. You felt bad for doing it though, especially because the calls from him seemed like they’d oddly increased over the past few weeks since that night. You had explained to Foggy and Karen what was going on and what you were doing. The pair of them had been happy to help keep Matt off your back and to keep him from thinking too much into things, though every time his name appeared on your phone screen you felt guilty for all the times you let it go to voicemail. Or the times that you’d lied and told him you were busy and couldn’t talk. 

You needed this though. You needed to find a way to let him go before your feelings drove you insane. Because Karen’s question that night had made you suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been happy for a long time. Not really. You’d been pining after Matt for years now, clutching onto the hope that maybe he liked you, or that maybe someday his feelings for you might change into something more. You’d held onto that hope with a death grip for so long that you’d realized it was gradually dragging you further and further down. And you couldn’t do that to yourself anymore. That other night a few weeks ago, when you’d flirted with Matt and made a complete ass out of yourself only to receive nothing in return from him that even so much as hinted at the fact that he was flirting back, you’d realized that you’d needed to finally release that hold on your hope. 

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend.

It was a line you said to yourself almost daily lately. Anytime the feelings would randomly crop up, you repeated that over and over in your head. It was a reminder that you needed to actually try to move forward this time.

Which was why this weekend you were letting one of your coworkers set you up on a blind date. You’d spent this past week trying to get yourself excited about it. Stephanie certainly seemed to think you and this Alexander would be a great match, and apparently he was an incredibly sweet and charming guy. Which was good. You needed to find someone nice. Someone who would be good for you. Alexander wasn’t going to be Matt but you were going to be open-minded when it came to that date.

Another thing you kept repeating to yourself daily lately.

Turning the page of your book, you were so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear the noise outside of your window nearby. Except you had. It was a faint, muffled noise that sounded like it came from your fire escape. You lowered your book, eyes narrowing as your head slowly turned towards the window.

Immediately you screamed, your book flying out of your hands and falling to the floor. There were two figures standing on your fire escape right outside of your window–one in all black and the other in red. Both of them had their faces obscured and it took you a moment to recognize the one in black as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you didn't recognize the other beside him who looked like they were struggling to hold him up. At least, you didn't recognize them until they'd reached a hand up and slid the mask down their face and leaned forward, knocking on your window. 

Your jaw dropped at the sight of Elektra Natchios in the flesh, smirking at you on the other side of your living room window. 

"Knock, knock, darling," she called out, voice muted by the glass. "Open up."

You froze on the couch. Letting Elektra into your apartment was the absolute last thing you wanted to ever do. You absolutely loathed her. And you also had no idea why she was toting Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante on her arm, either, but you figured the reason couldn't be good. 

"You're not welcome here," you called back, sitting upright on the couch. "We aren't friends, Elektra."

Her face contorted into a look of faux sadness and offense at your words before it quickly returned to its previous smugness. "I don't particularly care what you think of me," she replied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't want your friend here suffering outside in a dumpster."

Your face twisted in confusion as your focus shifted to the masked man clinging to her, his head hanging forward over his chest. He looked like he was in pain from the way he was slumped over. But why would she call him your friend? You'd met him once and you had been drunk–and managed to get even drunker after that encounter. He wasn't exactly your friend.

"I don’t even know him," you shot back, eyeing him through the window. "Take him to a hospital where he can actually get some help."

“Aww,” she cooed through the glass, one hand reaching up towards his black mask. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

Your mouth opened to once again tell Elektra off, but before the words could even form she’d pulled back the black fabric from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s face. At first all you could see was a mess of dark hair, but then her hand still holding the mask grasped underneath his chin, raising the man’s head up so you could see him better.

You audibly gasped, jaw dropping wide open as you stared at Matt’s face on the other side of the window. For a long moment your brain became entirely devoid of thoughts as you sat on your couch staring at Matt on your fire escape dressed as the masked man.

“Still want to say you don’t know him?” Elektra questioned.

It took you a minute to slightly recover on the couch, your mouth finally closing but your wide eyes still staring in shock at the sight of Matt–the same Matt who you’d drank beers with, the one who you’d shared your insecurities pre-graduation with, who’d cried on your shoulder when he’d told you about his father–as the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen. The very same one who you’d seen grainy video footage of in the news with superhero-like fighting skills. 

“Can you open up already? He’s getting a bit difficult to hold onto,” Elektra called out.

“Matt?” you whispered.

On the other side of the window, you saw Matt’s lips twist into a small, apologetic smile. He nodded his head just once in response. 

Still in shock, you unraveled yourself from your blanket and rose from your couch, making your way to the window. You unlocked it, sliding it up and watching as Elektra tried to help Matt through the opening. Reaching out, you grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders and attempted to help her get him inside. Matt’s own hands darted out to grab onto your upper arms in return, groaning as he made his way through the window and into your apartment. 

You hadn’t been expecting him to lose his balance though, and he’d stumbled straight into you. You toppled over easily, his body falling with yours and pinning you to the floor beneath him. Matt’s hands had flown out just in time to catch himself so he didn’t fully crush you under his weight, his face hovering just above yours. You could see a few bleeding gashes across his forehead and cheeks as his sightless eyes focused along your right cheekbone, a pained expression on his face. 

A plethora of emotions raced through you in that moment. Part of you, a very small part, wanted to lean up and kiss him. You’d never been in such a compromising position with him before, and you certainly wished it was under different circumstances–though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way and you quickly tried to divert your thoughts. Especially because this was certainly not the time for those types of thoughts.

For the most part you were hurt and confused, though. Matt had been lying to you all this time about those injuries he’d been getting. He’d been going out and intentionally putting himself into danger. And it hurt you that he’d hid that truth from you, that he didn’t trust you with that information. 

But not only that, how the hell did Matt go out blind fighting bad guys like the masked man did? Clearly someone taught him to fight like that, something he’d never told you about before–more secrets he’d been hiding from you. But you knew he was blind, so how could he do the things the masked man did? That you’d seen actual video evidence of? How was that Matt?

And why the hell was Elektra in a similar crime-fighting ensemble? What pieces of the goddamn puzzle had you been missing all along without even knowing it? 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

With a grunt, he pushed himself back onto his knees before Elektra was at his side. She grabbed onto his arm and roughly tugged him up, Matt hissing in pain as she did. You winced at the sound, slowly rising back up from the floor after him. 

“He needs somewhere safe to stay while I finish…dealing with some things,” Elektra told you, leading him past you and straight towards your couch. “Your apartment was the closest. And he said he trusted you.”

You stood there gaping at the pair of them as she lowered his battered and bloody body onto your couch. Matt was making noises of discontent as she situated him along it. 

“What–what the hell is going on?” you stammered out.

When Matt was settled, Elektra straightened and turned towards you. She exhaled a rough sigh as she eyed you from top to bottom. 

“Well darling, your BFF is the masked vigilante roaming the city,” she said. “ Clearly . I thought you’d caught that already, but apparently you’re a little slow, I see.”

“Elektra,” Matt warned through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Someone beat him with a metal pipe,” she explained. “Now we’re thinking he’s fractured a rib and he’s honestly quite useless to me like this. So he needs to stay hidden here until he can get his ass home. Think you can manage that, darling?”

Your mouth had dropped open at the mention of a metal pipe and it had stayed that way for the duration of her explanation. Elektra groaned in irritation at the look of shock on your face, her head dramatically falling back over her shoulders as she did.

“He’ll be fine ,” she told you. “Throw a blanket on him and he’ll probably walk it off in the morning.” Attention shifting over her shoulder, she frowned when she glanced at Matt. “And it’s a damn shame I’ll miss seeing your ass walk it off. It’s certainly gotten so much nicer since I’d last enjoyed it. I remember–”

“Enough, Elektra,” Matt snapped.

Heat rose up to your cheeks in a mixture of awkward embarrassment and jealousy at what she was hinting at. But when Elektra’s eyes dropped down to where your book had fallen onto the floor beside the couch, you saw her head tilt curiously to the side, a grin slipping onto her mouth. Embarrassment won out as you watched her bend over and grab the book from the floor, slowly rising back to her full height as she examined it. Her attention slowly shifted back towards you, one of her perfect dark brows arching up on her pretty face.

“Didn’t realize we’d interrupted your fascinating read, darling,” she purred, eyes dropping back down to the book. “Romance novels though?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t even look naughty. How positively–” her eyes landed back on you, an amused smile on her lips, “– you .”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat burning at your cheeks.

“Still in love with your friend?” she taunted. “Love life a mess so you read this trash?”

Your arms crossed awkwardly over your chest, your gaze dropping down to your feet. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes at her words. She damn well knew you loved Matt and she was toying with you like it was entertainment to watch you hurting.

“Mmm, I see you’ve never actually told him then,” she continued. “All this time and you couldn’t–”

“ Elektra ,” Matt snapped.

Elektra had actually stopped mid-taunt, her lips thinning at Matt’s harsh tone. Even you’d been surprised at how irritated he’d sounded. Maybe he was finally seeing how rude she’d been to you for once. Though you doubted that would stop him from being with her; you were certain they would be back together if they weren’t already. Even if you knew Elektra would only be toying with him yet again. 

“You’re both no fun,” she said with a pout, tossing your book onto the coffee table.

You couldn’t look her in the face as she sauntered past you, tears still welling in your eyes. Blinking hard, you did your best to force them back. You didn’t want to cry in front of her or Matt. You were so tired of the tears.

“Don’t worry about getting up, Matty, darling,” Elektra said, sliding your window up behind you. “I’ll handle this one for you. But you owe me something in return.”

Elektra slipped back out of the window before you heard her slowly sliding it down after herself. Your apartment filled with silence at her absence, Matt’s head shifting towards you on the couch. There was a frown on his lips, his dark brows pulled together in something that wasn’t pain, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind his expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night,” he said softly. “And that you…found out. Like this. About me.”

“What the hell, Matty?” you breathed out. “How long have you been doing this?”

"Around the time Fog and I left Landman and Zack,” he answered.

You ran a hand across your forehead, trying to piece things together as question after question ran through your mind. You almost didn’t even know where to start.

But something in particular surfaced in your mind, panic flooding you. 

“So that–that night the man in the mask found me drunk in an alley,” you began slowly, the hazy memory coming back to you as Matt’s expression shifted to something even harder to read. “After I’d found Liam cheating on me. That was…you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You grimaced, remembering how you’d unknowingly and drunkenly spilled your heart out to Matt himself that night. How you'd embarrassingly sobbed on him about being in love with him. Which meant that he knew you loved him, right? And he’d just spent all this time pretending you didn’t, like that moment hadn’t happened because he didn’t feel that way in return?

But of course he didn’t love you because as fuzzy as that night was to you, you remembered the masked man crying to you about loving someone, too. The conversation had been difficult to recall from all the alcohol you’d drank that night, but you remembered he’d been upset about a woman he loved. He must have meant Elektra, you realized.

Because of course he’d still be in love with her, even after she went and broke his heart. And now he finally had her back.

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you felt even more inadequate for Matt now. With whatever he was out doing around the city at night, apparently he'd found his match in her. Because you certainly weren't about to go out and play at being a hero with him. That only further cemented how wrong you were for him; you’d never be Elektra.

“If you’ve fractured a rib I should really get you to a hospi–”

“No hospitals,” Matt said earnestly, cutting you off. “I’ll be fine, I just need somewhere to stay until I can heal a bit. If that’s alright? Just–just for the night?”

“Matt,” you began slowly, “if you have a fractured rib, that could take weeks to heal, not one night.”

His lips pulled back into a sheepish smile. “I’m different,” he admitted quietly. 

Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing back at him curiously. He was different ? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?” you asked him.

“I…have heightened senses,” he confessed. “And I was taught a long time ago how to meditate to heal myself faster. So a fractured rib really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but I–I can’t fight like this. And my place was too far from where we were. I just–just needed somewhere safe to rest and heal. But I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all of this.”

“I–” 

You stood on the opposite side of your coffee table utterly dumbfounded with this new information about a man you’d thought you’d known for years . Mouth opening and closing a few times, you struggled to figure out how to piece a coherent thought together.

“You–you heal yourself?” you asked in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

Another few moments of silence passed, your brain attempting to wrap around that crazy bit of information. But then you remembered the other thing he’d said and a whole wave of new questions rose in your mind.

“What do you mean you have heightened senses?” you asked him nervously.

“I’m still blind, but my other senses are able to pick up on things that others can’t,” he answered.

You sucked in a breath, fear building inside of you. What the hell did that mean?

“Like what?” you hesitantly questioned.

“Well I can hear that your heart rate just elevated even higher than what it had been at after hearing that. I can hear your blood pressure increasing, too,” Matt told you. “And I can smell that your adrenaline and cortisol levels just rose–meaning you’re nervous or afraid.”

You saw the corners of his lips curve downward as he spoke, his focus lowering towards your coffee table. Though at that admission, you felt your own heart rate sky-rocketing. He could read you that well?

“So–so all of your other senses are able to pick up on small details like that?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head solemnly. “I can hear someone’s heartbeat if I focus. Can even tell when they’re lying to me depending on how it beats,” he explained. 

“How long have you been able to do all of this?” you nervously asked. 

A sad smile slowly drew his lips upwards at the corner. Despite your panic about everything Matt had probably been picking up on with you for who knows how long now, you wondered how hard it must be to live like that. How much outside stimuli was hitting him all of the time? What all was he experiencing that no one else had to experience?

“Since that accident that blinded me as a child,” he answered quietly. “You remember the one I told you about?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about it,” you replied. “But how come you didn’t tell me this , Matt?”

“How was I supposed to?” he asked back. “What I can do, it isn’t normal. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“You don’t think I’d like to know that my best friend can hear my heartbeat? Or smell my–my hormones ?” you asked him. “That you always knew when I was lying? Or–or was afraid? Or whatever the hell else you’ve picked up on from me? This whole time?”

There was not a doubt in your mind now about Matt having known the truth about you at least liking him. Being attracted to him. How could he have not known? If he could hear your heart alone, he’d know it was always racing around him, that he always had an effect on you. But he’d never flirted with you, never taken an interest back in you.

The tears started falling before you could stop them, your hands flying up to your mouth to try to cover the choked sob building in your throat at that realization. The strangled sound still fell out of you despite your efforts to hold it back, though. Matt’s focus immediately shifted to you, something soft and sad reflecting in his own eyes.

“If you can pick up on all of these things happening with someone's body that–that means you’ve known then?” you asked, your voice cracking as more tears fell. “This whole time? That I’ve had feelings for–” you broke off on a strangled sob, unable to just say it.

Matt nodded his head slowly across from you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, I just–just never said anything.” 

Another sob fell out of you before Matt said your name so softly, but the sound of it only drew more tears. He’d always known you loved him then. And he certainly didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I do my best to give everyone privacy around me, but some things I can’t help but…pick up on.”

Your tears fell faster now as your hands slid up and you buried your face in them. You didn’t think it was possible to hurt anymore than you did when it came to loving Matt, but you certainly had discovered tonight that you were very, very wrong. Because his admission felt like it had torn your heart straight from your chest before he’d tossed it out of your window straight down to the street below to be repeatedly run over by traffic.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend. Hadn’t you already been repeating that to yourself lately? Well, how fucking spot on you were.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m–”

“Who else knows about you?” you asked, cutting him off with your face still buried behind your hands.

You tried your best to ignore the way your heart twisted at the way he'd called you 'sweetheart'. He'd never done that before and now was certainly not the time for him to start. 

Matt expelled a rough breath, the sound causing you to peak at him between your fingers. His head had rolled away from you now, his sightless eyes focused on the ceiling of your apartment. 

“Foggy found out,” he whispered. “On accident. That’s why we fought and the firm broke up. And uh, Elektra has always known.”

“Of course she has,” you muttered bitterly.

“You’re upset with me,” he pointed out.

You shook your head, rubbing the heels of your hand along your cheeks to try to wipe away the dampness. “I’m not upset at you ,” you told him. “I’m upset that you knew so much about me and I didn’t–didn't know that you did. And that you didn’t tell me all of this back at Columbia, because I’d have wished you’d trusted me enough with this information about yourself.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, that aching, empty feeling in your chest somehow feeling like it was finally consuming you entirely. "And I'm upset that you–you knew . All these years and you've–you’ve always known ."

Matt said your name gently again, but you shook your head quickly, continuing on and trying to force down the tears and the feel of your heart breaking. Matt was hurt and he needed help, that was your focus tonight.

“What do you need from me then, Matt?” you asked, sniffling loudly. “Just a place to crash? Medical help?”

You watched as his eyelids slowly lowered, a frown deepening on his face. “A place to stay for the night so I can heal, yes. And if you could call Fog, ask if he’d bring some of my clothes from my place here. That way I can–can change in the morning before I leave.”

Nodding, you wiped your hand across your cheeks again. It was a moment later that you realized you hadn't spoken. 

"Sorry, I nodded," you muttered.

"I know," he whispered. "I could hear the way the molecules in the air shifted when you did."

You winced, suddenly uncertain what all Matt had always known that you weren't aware of. But yet again you tried to focus on your current situation instead. It didn't matter he knew you liked him, he'd always just wanted to be your friend instead. You’d cry about it later, when he wasn’t lying on your couch bleeding.

"I'll go call Fog," you informed him. "Get him to bring over your clothes. You can stay here tonight, Matt. You know I'll always be here for you. I've always told you that." Curling your hands into fists, you tried to stop the way they had begun shaking. "I'm going to get a washcloth, though. To clean your cuts. If that's alright?"

Matt nodded, his head turning as he focused on you across the room again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

Chewing your lip, you turned and headed down the hall to your bathroom. You switched on the light and made your way over to the vanity, bending down and pulling out a clean washcloth from under it. Rising to your feet, you set it on the counter before slipping your phone out of your pocket and dialing Foggy. It took a few rings before he finally answered, and for some reason the sound of his voice greeting you with your name had you crying again. 

"Hey, Fog," you said, voice cracking.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked in a panic. "Did something happen? You sound like you're crying. Why’re you crying?”

Your eyes slowly slid up towards your bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked awful.

"I know Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you breathed out. 

There was a long pause on the line after you'd spoken, the silence eventually broken by Foggy muttering a curse.

"Where are you?" he asked. 

"At home. Elektra dropped him off injured on my couch," you told him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

"He wants you to bring him a change of clothes," you said, watching as more tears slid down your reflection's cheeks. 

"I'm on it," he assured you. "But we are definitely talking later when we're out of his hearing range."

"Yeah," you whispered. "We definitely are."

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this prompt list (send me some if you'd like!) prompt #s 35, and 82

pairing: steddie | word count: 819 | rated: M (just in case!)

“Ah, fuck!” Eddie pants, finally letting go and dropping his weight into Steve’s capable hands.

Steve lets the other man catch his breath, running his hand up and down Eddie’s bicep in a soothing motion.

“You’re doing great, Eds, that was fucking perfect.”

Eddie looks up at him, mouth still hanging open though his breath is finally slowing.

“This is a one-time thing, you know.” Steve says.

“Fuck you.” Eddie heaves out, finally catching the last of his breath.

Steve chuckles at him, “Well, it is! I told you you’ve only got to try it once.” He moves his hand from Eddie’s bicep to pat the scraggly bun on top of his head sympathetically.

“Stop laughing at me, asshole.”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Steve laughs, “Well, okay, yes, I am–but!--it’s only ‘cause I love how irritated you get.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Shut up, Harrington, just pass me the fuckin’ weights.” 

Steve smiles as Eddie lays back onto the bench in a huff. “You think you’ll get up to 25s by the end of the month, or are you gonna stick with 20s all year?”

“If you keep making fun of me, I’m gonna bench the 5s. Now pass them over; I gotta get this done ASAP.”

“Oh do you now?” Steve asks, coaxing his boyfriend to sit back up so he can take the weights properly. 

Eddie takes the free weights and lays back down, holding them over his head for another set of presses. “Yeah, duh. The faster I’m done, the faster I get to see you do yours.”

“You got a thing for jocks or something, Munson?”

Eddie’s starting to huff again, finishing off rep seven of ten.

“You know I do, sweetheart.” he grits out, pressing out the last one; he sits up and drops the weights to rest on his knees. “Pretty boy muscleheads lifting 70 fucking pounds over their head at once really gets me going.”

Eddie’s not lying either, he’s been giving Steve the eyes the whole time they’ve been in this gym, and it’s NOT helping Steve’s concentration.

Steve does his warm-up jog on the treadmill? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve manages to do a full set of reps with 35s instead of 30s? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve loads up the leg press machine, eyes. Actually does leg presses, eyes.

Eddie sets the dumbbells on the floor and stands so Steve can take his place on the bench.

“You’re insatiable.” Steve gumbles, hefting his own weights (still 35lbs each!!) onto his legs so he can push them up properly with his knees and lay back for his presses.

“And I can’t wait for you to saiche me when we get home.” he says, relishing in the fact that he made Steve laugh in the middle of his last rep.

“Don’t do that, asshole! I coulda dropped this thing on my face!” 

They swap spots once more, Eddie finishing his last set on the bench, then Steve starts talking him through the next exercise.

“Okay Eds, you’re gonna stand up for this one. Make sure you’re standing straight, take one weight in your hands by one of the ends like this,” he cups one bell of the dumbbell in both his upturned palms, “and go behind your head with it, palms up.

“Then, all you have to do is push the weight up toward the ceiling and back. Got it?”

He demonstrates, both arms stretched up and bent at the elbow to let the weight hang from his hands behind his shoulders. The stretch causes Steve’s shirt to ride up, leaving a sliver of his soft stomach bared, the muscles at the back of Steve’s upper arms (He told Eddie the correct term for them before, as if he was going to remember that..) bunch and stretch with each movement…and Eddie immediately wants to climb him like a tree.

“Eds, you got that?” his boyfriend says, sounding slightly out of breath as he continues to press his weight above his head.

“Steve.” Eddie breathes out.

Steve keeps going, concentrating on his movements.

Eddie tries again, “Stevie, darling. Either you need to stop. Or we need to leave.” 

“What?” he stops, carefully moving the weight back to his front and putting down onto the bench beside them. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” How could he not? Does he not know how he looks right now??

Eddie feels his cheeks flush hotter as Steve searches his face, his eyes dropping down.

“Oh—oh yep, yep, okay, lemme just–” Steve wastes no time re-racking their weights and grabbing a spray bottle of disinfectant and paper towel to clean off the bench they were using.

“C’mon, lets go,” he says in a low voice as he pulls Eddie by the hand out the door to their car, “You’re lucky you’re cute,”

Eddie only grins, letting himself be towed along.

my husband gave me these numbers! so this is based on my own love for my husband and his strong arms and shoulders that make me 🥵 when i go to the gym with him lolol

[male-body-swap-lover]

Time Travel Christmas Part 2

Christmas 2023. I can’t believe I’ve managed to live this long. Once my wife, or I mean my grandmother, but really my wife died, I didn’t think I had the will to go on. But here I am. What a life I have led. Once I was transported back in time into my grandfather’s body, I was so worried. How would I make it through. However, it all seemed to work out. I got my grandfather’s memories and knowledge as well as I retained my own. My body could run on autopilot. It was quite amazing. The things I have seen. The moments in history that I have experienced, I will never forget. Quite frankly, I barely remember that I am supposed to be Roger Braddock the 3rd. I am Roger Braddock the 1st.

I was also worried about the butterfly effect. I was afraid I would change the future if things did play out perfectly how they happened originally. Would I even be born the same in the future. Turns out, nothing much changed. I did use some knowledge and, in this life, my family was a bit wealthier. It helped to know when certain stocks were going to grow. Nothing unethical about that. Now it’s Christmas 2023 and I am over at my son’s house. We are waiting for everyone else to show up. I am browsing his library and came across this photo.

I remember when this was taken. God the 1970’ were so much fun. He is probably 14 in this photo. I could never kick that smoking habit, but luckily, I never developed cancer. Just a wicked cough. I wish I could be young again, even my 40’s when this photo was taken. Go back to those fun fashions. As a formerly gay man, I certainly had fun with that. But in this life, I was straight. I followed what my body wanted. At least I have those memories. I let my son know that I was tired and am going to go lie down and wait for everyone to show up. I get so sleepy so easily these days. However, I suppose when one is in their 90’s, life is tiring.

Damn, what time is it. I slept so well. God, I feel so refreshed and lighter. It’s like I’ve lost weight. As I looked around the room, I realized I wasn’t where I fell asleep. This room was familiar. It’s what my son’s room had looked like in the 1970’s. Wait a minute; this is my son’s room, in my old house. How could that be the case. We remodeled this room and we sold this house years ago. I look down and see that my stomach is gone and I am wearing an outfit straight out of the 1970’s. Oh my god! Not again. I jumped up and looked in the mirror.

Holy Shit! I’m my son, well also my dad depending on the way you look at it. I must be about 18. How can this have happened again. It must be because I wished to be young again, but I also meant to be a younger Roger Braddock the 1st, or back to my original body. Now this means I am going to be living the life of Roger Braddock the 2nd. I wonder which world I will be living in. The one where my grandfather was my grandfather, or the one where I was Roger Braddock the 1st. What a story this would make, if only anyone would believe it. I kind of forgot how sexy my son was. He was so athletic and never lacked for a girlfriend. This could actually be really fun.

“Roger, the family is arriving. Come downstairs and greet them!”

That’s my mother. I look over at a calendar and realize that it is Christmas 1977. So, I am a senior in high school and am 18. Guess it’s time to open my presents. See some people that have passed on. Relieve these memories again. This is kind of fun. I get to live another life. I wonder how long I will be Roger Braddock the 2nd? I quickly change out of this colorful shirt and put on a Christmas sweater. I brush my hair and go downstairs. Well, this is groovy. Maybe I’ll go out to a disco later. The world is my oyster yet again.

[kittyball23]

Hi is it okay if you write a story about baby branch and Floyd

It sure is 😊

Remember (a Trolls fanfic)

Dear Diary,

It’s been a pretty quiet evening at home so far, and I guess there’s a few reasons for that. For one, I guess it’s no secret that I’m the quietest among my brothers (they say I should assert myself more, but I find that I can’t - it’s just the way I am 0.0). Also, my older brothers aren’t here at the moment, and the bro that IS here is sleeping on my lap (it’s a little hard to write right now, but I can manage). I’m guessing you’re probably wondering where exactly my older brothers are. Well, John Dory is out running some errands with Grandma, so they’re hitting the grocery store and a few other places (plus, JD DID say he was going to try and get supplies for some new costume ideas he has planned for us and our band, BroZone).

Spruce is out on a date. He ran another one of his competitions, and the winner this time around is a girl named Doreen. I’ve seen her around town a bit, and she seemed very excited to be able to be with him. As for Spruce… I don’t think I could really say the same :( But, regardless, they were heading out to Senior Frosty’s. A lot of us like to go down there for some sweet treats (personally, I think Grandma’s stuff is the best, but they’re okay too ^_^). Spruce’s favorite is the Tropical Sunset sundae, which is an ice cream that I think is made from vanilla, with some kind of fruity syrup and chunks of pineapple on top. It sounds pretty tasty, but my personal preference is the strawberry delight (an underrated flavor, but delicious nonetheless!)

Clay headed off to another one of his sad-book club meetings. He’s sorta told me about them before, but I’m a little nervous to go to one, if I’m being honest. If it’s about sad books like he says, I’m probably gonna be in tears the whole time! I guess I’ll just have to make sure that I pack a lot of tissues when I do get the chance to accompany him :)

That leaves me and Branch, like I mentioned before. We had some fun with all kinds of activities around the house.

We frosted some sugar cookies that Grandma had baked earlier in the day (Branch got a little messy with the decorating, but he didn’t mind). We played some games (the usual - hide-and-seek, tag… freeze tag) and sang some of our band’s songs together. I’m very proud of him. Even though he’s only a couple years old, he’s got a great falsetto going. Golden! I can tell he’s going to be an amazing singer one day, and I can’t wait for him to start performing with us. John Dory thinks he’s ready, too. A few days ago, he actually suggested that we should start arranging for our first tour. Spruce and Clay agreed, and it’s going to be so exciting!

As Floyd tapped his pencil to his chin, pondering what to write down next, the light weight on his lap began to shift. He immediately put his journal down, and watched admiringly as Branch cutely yawned and stretched.

“Hey, Branch,” he cooed softly, stroking his brother’s delicate little cheek. “Did you have a good nap?”

The baby blinked up at him, rubbing the sleep out of his large blue eyes and grinning his sweet little one-toothed grin. “Uh-huh!”

Floyd chuckled and ruffled his rich blue hair. “That’s good.”

“What did you do, Floyd?” the small Troll asked curiously.

“Oh, I was just writing in my journal,” he said, showing him the book that he’d placed at his side.

“Ohhh,” Branch mused, cocking his head. “Can I see it?”

“Sure thing,” Floyd replied fondly, opening it up and allowing Branch to flip through the pages.

“I write all kinds of things in here,” the magenta-haired Troll explained while the baby stared in wonder. “Ideas, stories, wishes… but do you know what my favorite thing to write about is?”

“What?” Branch asked, his eyes twinkling with interest.

“All the stuff I do with you, and our brothers.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Definitely,” Floyd answered. “That way, when we want to remember something special, it’ll all be right here.” He gave him a little side hug that Branch happily leaned into with a giggle. Then, the little blue Trolling thought of something else.

“Do you write songs in there, too?”

Floyd nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Then he smirked. “But you know, I’ve been having a little trouble trying to finish the one I’ve been working on. Do you want to help me?”

His baby brother’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

And, as he and Branch made another cherished memory - harmonizing together and creating wonderful new melodies - Floyd made sure to recall every little detail of their experience so, in that way, he could notate it in his journal for them to always remember.

[peachywontyell]

ive had this bouncing around in my head for a while, so here we are.

i am a sucker for pretty boys with kind brown eyes and jaime fits that description perfectly...so i decided to give him a lot of pining (that is definitely reciprocated), he has to be a big brave boy and confess 🫶🏾 also, this is placed before the events in the movie !

inspired by

hanging out with jaime has always been very warm, cozy, comfortable. ever since you were children when you'd spend weekends riding your bikes around the neighborhood, only to crash at one of your houses after having way too much food. it happened so frequently that it got to the point where it just was the new normal for both of your families (impromptu get togethers were very common).

the friendship you guys had only grown stronger with each year that passed and well- there were definitely feelings there that weren't strictly platonic now. you were trying your hardest to push them away though, and jaime was having the same issues...however neither of you dared to even threathen the sanctity of the bond shared by confessing. that is until one summer came along, you guys had gone to different universities, and even though you called and texted daily, summer was when you guys could actually hang out like the old days. and here you were, having gone to pick up jaime from the airport with the rest of the reyes. as he walked through the gate you let his family say their hellos first- it's safe to say he almost drowned in hugs and kisses, and when you finally got to say hello you didn't hold back with the bear hug either.

you missed him dearly, and the weird feeling of anxiety, excitement and happiness settled in your stomach as he squeezed you back and actually just fully picking you up. it made the feeling in your stomach even stronger.

"JAIME DIOS MÍO BÁJAME"

"Que no, don't wanna"

"okay so if that's how this is gonna go, cárgame bien, señor"

suddenly you guys were in your own world, talking and laughing and everyone could clearly see what was happening here. milagro was gonna have a field day with the teasing as soon as she had a chance. he ended up putting you down- but only after he carried you all the way to the car. it was embarrassing yes, but now as embarrassing as the older couple that chuckled as you walked past and talked to themselves in hushed voices about 'how sweet young love is' and how they wished they could go back in time and experience it all over again.

that got you both blushing...and made the drive back home for lunch a bit...strange. nothing really changed, you still sat together and chatted, but jaime couldn't stop thinking about what they had said. did you guys actually look like a couple? should he had said something to them? the fact that he didn't mind if they thought so made him feel warm and fuzzy.

two weeks pass, and while you've somehow managed to push away those fuzzy feelings, things have definitely flipped for jaime- and milagro did not help one bit. she woke up much earlier than he did, you did too, and it usually meant that as soon as he walked out into the kitchen he'd see you just having breakfast.

"buenas morning" you say, trying not to laugh cause his hair looked bonkers, but even if you found it hilarious, it was still endearing, and the fuzzy feelings you had to fight every single day before meeting him were back and they were looking for vengeance. and when he almost put his full body weight on top of you for a hug not caring that you were in the middle of eating? well, you felt like you were going to die. "mornin...." he didn't move off. "jaime." "Hmmm?" "get off of me and go shower, tenemos que encontrarnos con el grupo in like an hour". with one last, extremely dramatic sigh, he moves off and does as told. it's not like he didn't want to spend the day with you and some of your other friends, they were his friends too, but he would much rather stay in and chill.

not even two hours later and you guys are at the little picnic area everyone agreed to meet up at, playing silly games, chatting and just catching up! and jaime just wasn't feeling it, he couldn't really pinpoint the reason why until he sees how talkative and close you are with one of the guys there. okay. that's fine. it's just a hangout, nothing is happening, you definitely aren't flirting with him. thank god someone called the guy over cause he didn't know how much he could take.

"so how'd the flirting go?" he thought he sounded casual, calm, normal. he did not sound casual, calm or normal. he sounded upset and looked like a sad dog. "what flirting- what the hell happened to you? why do you look so sad? ¿qué pasó?" "hm? nothing." he shook his head, making you squint. okay, if he didn't want to tell you, then you'd just come up with absurd reasons as to why he would be upset. "¿tas celoso?" funny how you got it right first try. you don't know that, though. "what? no- ¿qué?" he prays to god the blush creeping up his neck isn't noticeable, prays it doesn't betray him. "Ayyyyy si es eso you don't have to be, tu sabes que you're irreplaceable" you laugh and god is definitely on his side cause you're called over a few second later by someone of the order people and he can feel his heart beating so fast he fears its gonna burst through his chest.

the hangout went by smoothly, he genuinely couldn't be happier, even if at first he didn't want to be there. he has to admit, he did miss his friends, so he's glad he could spend some time with them. now you guys are laying on his bed, chismeando and just debriefing when the topic of him being "jelous" came up again. maybe he could just do it. he knew it was risky, but....he was willing to take the chance. "....you know what? maybe i was. maybe i was very jelous, maybe i still kind-of am." he felt you sitting up and all he could do was pull a pillow over his face and keep this shit rolling "you've always made me feel so comfortable and...warm, and ive always loved you, but at some point i think it turned into love...? does that make sense- no- it's fine- okay- look i just- de verdad que me gustas mucho y pues no sé- i don't wanna fuck this up aunque creo que ya lo jodí-" he huffs and sits up to face you, looking embarrassed and flustered "you're so special to me and i really don't want to mess up the friendship we have, okay? but i'd just...i'd really like to be yours."

you aren't sure if you should just kiss him or shake him by the shoulders. so you settle for taking his hand in yours, feeling your face grow warmer- if that's even possible after that confession. "jaime, look at me." that boy is holding onto the pillow for dear life, using it to still obscure his face while he shakes his head. he's trembling. you use your other hand to grab his face and look at you "please, just kiss me" "really?" "si-" and he does, like he's been starving. he almost doesn't let you pull back even though you both need to breathe. "jaime mi amor, you will always be my favorite pretty boy and im so happy i can finally tell you."

[icedragonlizard]

Shadow Kirby headcanons

I did a Skirby hc post before, but it was before I did a bunch of changing to my verse. His characterization is now very different from what I had before. I deleted that old post, so this is the post to see how I now interpret this character.

Shadow Kirby, much like his titular pink counterpart, is the hero of his homeland. He obtained the status as the hero of the mirror world some time after the events of Amazing Mirror.

Here's how he got to that point: Shortly after AM, when Skirby and Kirby became friends, Skirby then came to Kirby to ask for help on how to use copy abilities. Kirby, of course, was more than glad to help, and after enough exercise and training with copy abilities, Skirby stepped up and became willing to protect the mirror world.

Dark Mind managed to survive its fight against Kirby, and continued to be a threat to the mirror world for about another year after Amazing Mirror. But after Skirby mastered the use of copy abilities, he then eliminated Dark Mind for good. That establishes his status as the mirror world's hero, and it puts some weight off of Kirby's shoulders because his counterpart protects the mirror world without him needing to constantly come back to do it.

More down below by clicking the 'Keep reading' tag.

Skirby is the hero of his homeland just like Kirby is the homeland of his, but there are plenty of personality differences.

Kirby eats a lot, isn't very talkative, and generally prefers not to spar outside of doing it with one person. He spars with Meta Knight, albeit only because Meta stubbornly keeps challenging him to sword duels, but Kirby generally only gets combative when it's necessary, such as during adventures, breaking up fights between his friends and stopping his morally bankrupt friends from causing minor trouble after they became his friends. Other than that, he's chill and would rather nap instead of fighting when he doesn't need to.

Skirby is different in all of those aspects. His appetite isn't nearly as big as Kirby's, and he's a lot more talkative. He also loves to do things like sparring. He'd gladly engage in a sparring match with anyone that wants to clash swords (or any other weapon) with him.

His best friend is Dark Meta Knight. They became friends after Dark Mind was killed off for real post-AM, as that's when DMK was finally set free from Dark Mind's influence. And sparring is one of the main friendship activities that happen between Skirby and DMK.

There's another big personality difference between Skirby and Kirby: Their niceness and forgiveness. Kirby is well known for being so incredibly nice and sweet, and always forgives every villain that stops being hostile to him. He also never dislikes or hates anyone.

Skirby, however, is not quite the same in that regard. Unlike Kirby, Skirby is actually willing to dislike/hate people. He's not quite as forgiving as Kirby, and he's less nice.

He's still a nice guy overall, but definitely less so than Kirby. And he can get pissed off easier than Kirby can. That's not necessarily even to say he's a temperamental person, but he definitely has his limits a lot more than Kirby does. And he's capable of being a hater if pushed to that limit.

There are notable figures that Skirby has dislike for, and I'll go over them:

He absolutely hates Dark Mind. There is nobody that Skirby hates more than Dark Mind. He immediately respected Kirby for fighting Dark Mind, and when that monster somehow survived and still went on for a bit more, Skirby decided to eliminate it himself. He's glad that being is no more.

Shadow Dedede and Dark Taranza are other people that Skirby has negative opinions of. Like DMK, they were also minions of Dark Mind that were then set free from its influence after Skirby killed it. But unlike DMK, those two had no interest in becoming friends with Skirby and were even mean to him. They simply stormed off and did their own thing, and this made Skirby decidedly not like them. He thinks they're ungrateful because of how they acted after he killed Dark Mind. At least DMK became his friend in the end, though.

Skirby also has not-so-great opinions on a few of the dream friends. But before we get into them right away, let me talk about Skirby's deal with the dream friends in a general sense.

He hadn't actually met most of the dream friends until after Star Allies. The reason why he didn't join the team during Star Allies is because the mirror world was effected by the Jamba Heart threat, and Skirby wanted to protect the mirror world from it. That's also what led to DMK joining the star allies team; Skirby and DMK made a deal where the former stayed and protected the mirror world while the latter went out to join Kirby and the others.

When Skirby met all the other dream friends after Void Termina's defeat, he has varying opinions of them. His favorite dream friend is... DMK, of course, because they're besties and have been for years before Star Allies. And then after DMK, Skirby's next favorite dream friends are the others of Wave 2: Daroach, Adeleine and Ribbon, as he's grateful to them for being DMK's friends. Skirby himself also became friends with them because of it.

Wave 2 + Shadow Kirby friend group baby let's goooo!

And now we talk about the dream friends that Skirby isn't so fond of. His two least favorite dream friends are Marx and Zan Partizanne.

Skirby really doesn't like either of those two. He has distaste for them both, and generally avoids them as much as he can.

He thinks Marx is insufferable. The jester can get on his nerves with pranks, and he also tells edgy jokes that piss Skirby off. Not just that, but Skirby also doesn't appreciate how Marx just treats DMK like an entertaining cringe compilation. He thinks he's sort of cruel for that.

As for Zan, Skirby dislikes and resents her because she called him a bastard after mistaking him for a shooting star. He took offense to that. And then things just got rather petty between these two. Skirby just thinks that Zan is really unpleasant and doesn't want to be around her.

Skirby also doesn't like Magolor and Susie, but he can stand them a little bit better than he can stand either Marx or Zan.

And then Skirby has a rather complicated dynamic with Taranza. This is, of course, because Taranza hates DMK's guts for being involved in the corruption of Sectonia - which, to be clear, corrupting her was an order made by Dark Mind.

The thing is, Skirby doesn't blame Taranza for hating DMK, but he thinks he's going too far in wanting revenge on the guy, especially considering that Dark Mind, the one who was really behind Sectonia's corruption, is now gone. That being said, it's not all bad, as Taranza does give Skirby some credit for being the one to kill Dark Mind, but they hugely disagree about DMK and thus have some trouble getting along.

That sums up Skirby's favorite and least favorite dream friends. For the others that weren't mentioned above: He has friendships with Bandee and Gooey, he quite likes the animal friends, and he gets along decently alright with both Meta Knight and King Dedede despite the former still having distaste for DMK. And although Skirby dislikes Zan, he actually gets along pretty well with both Francisca and Flamberge. Especially the latter, who he considers his favorite out of the mage sisters, while Zan is absolutely his least liked one.

Skirby is a member of Kirby's ginormous friend group. He'll be there in the big events that all of Kirby's friends are invited in, including the pink puff's birthday parties. A good chunk of Kirby's big friend circle, namely a lot of the dream friends, know Skirby by his association with DMK, but he's a lot more liked than DMK as people give him credit and applause for becoming the mirror world's new hero.

He's given credit as a benevolent person that stepped up to be the hero of his homeland, as he made the true killing blow to his homeland's most infamous villain and befriended one of its minions, who become a part of Kirby's big friend group just like Skirby himself.

More Kirbies mean more charm!

[silversiren1101]

At The End - OCKiss24 Salvadore x Minovae

I managed to find time to actually participate in a writing event! We can thank my new ADHD meds for that I'm sure. Anyway, this first is featuring my Minovae and @dmagedgoods Salvadore, who I have long cherished their relationship as much as it's fascinated me. They're what could have been and what could never be. I'm so happy with how this came out - please know I cried multiple times while writing it!

Violet eyes looked out over the city below and beyond the marble balustrade. Smoke rose from nearly every main plaza and thoroughfare, and even what seemed to be the most innocuous of alleyways as well as the highest parapets. For the first in some many decades, nay, a century, even, there was no cause for alarm from this. It wasn’t demons ravaging the last line of defense in this nation that both was and wasn’t, but now could be. The war hadn’t reached here, Nerosyan, the capital, because the war was over.

The Knight Commander had done it. Knight Commander Salvadore had closed the Worldwound. Where no other could, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying, but for all so much bloodsoaked and desperate failure, the war had finally ended.

And by a poncy, arrogant noble with a stick up his ass to rival even Iomedae’s.

Miracles, it seemed, weren’t in so short supply as the name of this age had made it seem.

Minovae sighed deeply looking out over the city with its night sky filled with smoke for the first time not from war but from celebration, her tail listlessly hanging off the edge between the balusters. Bonfires beat back the darkness, and she realized then that the smell and sight was what was making her stomach clench and eyes rimmed with wet. How much like home it was, poor battered and stripped Westcrown, whose nightly pyres weren’t out of any cause for celebration but to beat back the shadow-beasts that stalked her streets once the sun set and feared the light.

A home she knew she’d never see again.

The ache in her mind from Thrune’s brand told her as much. She’d never make it as far as Westcrown once she crossed the border of homeland. They’d take her back to Egorian, where the beginning of this end began, and they’d put the loose end that she was to close once and for all. It was coming. Soon. She knew it was. They might even be ready to disappear her as soon as she stepped from Nerosyan’s walls.

The thought only reinforced that emptiness that pervaded her. She had nothing left to fight for, anyway. Even more, she’d fought alongside heroes. She’d helped do the impossible. The Crusades were over, and she’d played no small part in it. Even the fact she wore this evening not her armor, its weight heavy and familiar comfort, but finery, felt strange. So much of her existence had been defined by steel and blood and blade and shield, and now it was drawing to a close not in the middle of a craggy field that smelled of iron, but on the night of celebration, in a gala hosted by literal royalty.  

The liquor in her glass burned comfortingly as she took another sip. ‘As strong as you have’, she’d told the man, who’d grinned and reached under the bar for something so old and dusty she hadn’t been able to catch the label. It did the trick, vapors stinging her nose and warming her throat and gut better than anything she’d had in years, and she reminded herself to thank him before she left for the night.

“Ah, here you are.”

She would have started had her senses not been dulled by drink—truthfully, this was her fifth glass. The clink of the ice as she’d knocked it back had disguised his footsteps, she surmised. He had no reason to sneak up on her tonight, and he walked with all the confidence and bravado his station and title presumed on his behalf at nearly all times.

“Here I am…”, she flicked her gaze to the corner as he came to the balcony balustrade, leaning against it, mindful of her tail where it trailed across the marble. Those icy blues locked onto hers and held that gaze firm. She might have thought it a challenge, or some type of implied order as he was oft to give, had his lips not been lightly tugged ever so upwards at their corners into a smile that was, by all accounts, warm. She stared at those lips perhaps a moment too long, before continuing. “Though I’m not sure it is really you, Sal, with such an expression on that face.”

He took no offense to the diminutive of his name. Not with her, at least. But she did note the quirk in his brow; inquisitive.

“My dear, it is a night for celebration, if you have not noticed.

“And so even the great Salvadore can afford himself a smile? I see”, she smirked.

It felt bitter. Even as happy as she truly was for him, for all of them, the emptiness of her future had tainted this night before it had even began. She quickly returned her gaze to the bottom of the glass cradled between her fingers, dangling over the edge of open air above the city below.

A heavy beat of silence passed. She knew without meeting that gaze again that he was aware something was weighing on her. He was one of the few she’d ever met that matched her ability to read nearly anyone, no matter how inscrutable.

“You should go back inside, you know. It is a night for celebration, after all”, she used his own words, hoping it would rub him wrong enough to just make him leave. “I’m sure they’ll be wondering where the man of the evening is.”

But, she knew the copious drink had taken her off her game tonight. Normally she could handle him as she did other nobles, though certainly not lightly–he’d ever been one of her most difficult rivals. Even admitting as such had rankled her, but now, here, she could only think of the term fondly. She internally cursed the sweet heat cloying her thoughts.

“Without you? Without whom this would not be possible? No, my dear, your absence has been noticeable enough. You have spent enough time endearing the night air with your appearance, when it would be much better spent on the unworthy eyes back inside.”

She snorted at that. Shook her head. “Are you saying I look nice?”

“Is that such a surprise? You look beautiful. It is a crime that the first time I have seen you in a dress, you’ve spent most of it hiding away.”

It was true. She’d been present for the opening ceremonies, of course. She’d even started the night just as lively and bright as nearly everyone else, dancing one or two waltzes with their friends—then, someone had asked her what she would do next, after all this was done.

And the brand seared into her mind had started to ache.

She swallowed down a sigh, not wanting him to hear. Her tail, heavy, almost languidly, pulled itself back up from the plummet she wanted to take before them and instead squished the air like shoulders would a shrug.

“You could have always ordered me into a dress, if you were so desperate to see it.”

“It would not have looked half as radiant on you than one donned willingly. I can see there was truth to your stories. Any lesser man in there would crumple before you, if you had your heart set on crushing theirs.”

Had he always been this funny, she wondered. No, it was the alcohol working in his favor. Still, she chuckled. Heat licked to the skin beneath her scaled cheeks. She knew she must’ve looked much like a watermelon then–those green-tinted opals sitting in a sea of red.

“Alright, alright. Need I tattle to Daeran with how much you’re trying to butter me up?” 

It was an empty threat and joke, they both knew. The only thing Daeran would be mad at was that he was not here to see and hear this for himself. 

“When I left, he was last doing what I expected you  to be doing all evening. Dancing the night away, breaking those hearts with each hand he trades for another.”

“I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. It’s just… louder in there than I remember…”, she answered wistfully. “I’m not used to being around so many people again. At least, not in a war camp… without my armor.”

He knew all about her past navigating through galas and parties much like these. She’d told him as such, how she used to stalk her prey on their own grounds, playing their own game; the Hellknight who’d eschew her armor for a dress and weapon for an invitation to dance, luring the guilty in with honey only to bring them to the guillotine all the same.

She only hoped he’d accept the excuse. Just telling him the truth would kill her. Him, possibly, too. Literally. The last thing she wanted on her record before she went to the Boneyard was taking down the angelic hero who’d ended the Crusades in a blackened, infernal blaze of her brand detonating.

“It has quieted some. The wine has seen to that, and most have had their choices in dance.”

She hummed. “Then surely my presence isn’t that missed.”

“On the contrary”—a shift of movement caught her attention. She looked back up from her glass toward him once more, and found a hand, fingers lightly curled upward, extended in invitation towards her.

“This entire Crusade, you have bragged about your prowess on the dance floor and told me of your greatest triumphs taking down ‘arrogant blowhard fops of my caliber,’”—she felt a rush of even hotter flame to her cheeks and a rattle shook her tail as he’d remembered one of the rants she’d gone on after particularly pissing her off—“, and yet, I have yet to see it for myself. I insist: would you have but a single dance with me, Lady Minovae?”

She stared. First, at his hand, those tan fingers extended invitingly. By all accounts they should be as rough and calloused as hers, and yet they looked untouched by the horrors of the war they’d both fought through, side by side. His nails were perfectly cut and filed, and shone beneath the moonlight. Hells, she swore there was a light glow emanating from it, but she had no idea if it was just from how bright the moon was, or because of the angelic power coursing through him. It looked warm, despite him being a dhampir.

And then her gaze shifted upward, to the rest of him. His blue eyes had narrowed, warm, inviting, despite how piercingly cold their color was. She noticed then that the night had gotten to his usual perfectly manicured and groomed self. Some hairs had fallen from his typical neat style, wayward curls—curls!—teasing his forehead and giving him an almost roguish appeal that made her breath catch. For once, he looked real. He looked mortal. At this, his highest point in power, literally touched by the Heavens and the Abyss alike, Salvadore looked more like a living, breathing, touchable person than at any other point in which she’d known him. He didn’t rise in her that distrust and disgust that normally appeared when she lay eyes upon a noble, even with him dressed in the brightest white and gold finery she’d ever seen.

He looked… 

Warm. Handsome. Inviting. Mortal. An ally. A friend. Something more. Her breath caught for a moment. She found herself staring at his lips again, sitting above his chiseled chin and jawline. Had they always looked so… soft? He was doing that soft smile again, confident and controlled, but welcoming. The kind that made you let down your guard, of which the whiskey clouding her thoughts certainly wasn’t helping.

“A good kisser?”, she snorted derisively. “I didn’t know they taught you how to kiss in noble school. I certainly don’t know where else you would’ve learned given how insufferable you are. Unless that mysterious ‘mentor’ of yours taught you that, too.”

Salvadore only made a low noise in the back of his throat, confident and knowing. The look he shot her was much the same. “You are welcome to a demonstration, if you need the proof, my lady knight, Arangeir.”

Her boisterous laugh was all the answer he needed: never in a million years.

She remembered the moment in a sudden flash like it was yesterday. She couldn’t even remember what had triggered that conversation, but she certainly remembered the tease and invitation now. It hadn’t been a million years, but she wouldn’t get a million years. Sal might. He and Daeran together. But she wouldn’t. She might not even get a week. Daeran would forgive her for this, she knew… and well, if he didn’t, she supposed she wouldn’t be around long to suffer it.

“…A dance?”, she licked her lips, suddenly feeling overly warm, overly flushed. Her dress exposed much of her back and shoulders, letting her feathers and scales breathe , and only went to about her mid-thigh regardless. Still, she felt hot. She felt stupid, too, but did it matter? “You can have your dance, if I can have something in return.”

That piqued his curiosity. Salvadore drew his hand back slightly, if only because he’d straightened his posture. His head tilted, and a brow raised. Something glinted in his eye. Concern? She didn’t care.

“Do you remember months ago… You claimed to be a good kisser. I didn’t believe you. What if I told you I still don’t?”

Her pulse was racing now. She could feel it thud-thud-thudding in her chest. It got even worse as realization dawned upon him.

She half expected a slap; he was a taken man now, after all. He might have even just turned around and gone back inside, which, fine. For the moment, though, he only stared at her. She could tell he was trying to decipher why she was asking for this now, why in the Hells now? Could she blame him? Of course not, he had no idea the severity of the truth, of just how little time she had left to do what she wanted and be a little crazy before everything ended.

What she didn’t expect was for those fingers to return. Closer. Curled under her chin.

She gasped lightly, hotly, as Salvadore clasped her jaw. Those hands were cold, as she thought, but the feel of that icy chill across her flushed skin felt almost like healing magic dancing across wounds, knitting them closed. 

Her tail vibrated anxiously, filled with so much energy where it had lain dead before. She could feel her feathers rising from neck to tail tip, fluffing up in that way that made her look like an alarmed cat.

Their eyes held each others’, and his additionally held a question. 

Now or never.

“You promised a demonstration”, she merely answered.

He needed no other reassurance.

Their height difference made it more difficult than it should have been, but Salvadore had been only truthful in his claims. He knew exactly what to do.

A hand pressed to the flat of her back, directly over the strip of feathers running down her spine and scales surrounding them—now running icily themselves trying to cool her down. She briefly wondered if he even noticed with the chill in his own hands, but let it drift away as soon as it had come. He pressed her close and up, bidding her to her toes as he himself confidently arched downward.

Soft. They were soft. How funny it was, she thought, that such iron and coldness could come from those lips only for them to be so damn soft. Softer than hers. Theirs pressed against the other, and her eyes slipped closed upon the gentle impact. She mapped them in the darkness behind her eyelids, each and every crease, the cupid’s bow, the feel of his breath across her face.

When had she last been kissed? She didn’t remember. Wetness rimmed her eyes again. She didn’t even love him. Love had escaped her at every turn, snatched away always and viciously by circumstance. All she could think of was the emptiness, of what hadn’t been and what she’d never had. His lips right then, for only this brief moment, were filling that yawning void. It was a piece that didn’t fit in this puzzle. Not perfectly. But for a moment, it was filled.

Then pressing. Then prodding. Further still, he took it, and she went rigid in shock before melting as his tongue breached what should have been where this had ended. It brought with it the taste of wine, luxurious and more opulent than any her salary would have spared. Something in her found it funny that for as much as she’d always tormented him about her dislike of fine wines, he’d still found a way to share a glass with her.

At the end. Of everything.

[bomberqueen17]

farm life

Am at the farm. Just gonna witter on uninterestingly about that behind the cut because I"m too tired to be interesting.

Initially we were going to make chicken sausage this week but BIL decided not to, but then when I said I was coming anyway, he decided to cut up some chickens.

In past years they've always sold out of chicken parts way before they've sold out of whole chickens. But a couple of years ago a chef friend told him there was nothing really wrong with thawing a chicken, cutting it up, and refreezing the parts, and initially we were just thawing whole chickens to cut up to grind into sausage, but we did some tests and determined that actually, no, there's really no discernible loss of quality in the parts. So now we don't sell out of chicken breasts in December anymore, but can keep bringing them to market all winter.

So this year we took the whole chickens out of the store, stopped bringing them to market, and are *only* selling the parts, and are saving the whole chickens to thaw and cut up and refreeze as parts. It's working great. It's more work, but it's more profit, and also more sales. People just don't buy whole chickens that much.

So anyway we cut up 88 chickens, and saved like 60 of the carcasses into a pair of huge stock pots. Packaged all the parts up, labeled and weighed them, then put the stock pots on to boil. Today we packaged 89 quarts of chicken stock. I was going to deep-clean the commercial kitchen, but it's not ready for the full spring treatment: we're still washing eggs in there, which means baskets full of chicken-shitty eggs are coming in and getting set on the floor. So I just cleaned and sanitized the heck out of the stuff we were using, and also the floor drain, but have held off. In April when the temps don't go below freezing at night anymore, when the vegetable washing station can move out of the eviscerating room so the egg washing can move back in there, *then* I will haul all the big equipment out and wash the whole room from the ceiling to the walls to the floors to the back of the grinder, under the mixer, under the fridge, under the freezer, all of it is getting powerwashed within an inch of its life.

But not this trip.

Next week we're making pork sausage.

I have been taking my dose of adderall at 8am immediately before I go out to work. It's hard to judge the efficacy, actually, because I'm so busy and so rarely totally self-directed. The real test would be to have me have a day of idleness and half a dozen things I need to accomplish. But I can concretely observe that I don't get a sort of dizzy head rush when it kicks in anymore, and I don't crash around 3 or 4 pm anymore. No, instead I'm just physically exhausted at that time, but it's understandable that I would be, because despite my best efforts to work out all winter, I am in no way prepared for the amounts of heavy lifting, repetitive movements, and sheer mileage you have to walk around here.

Today I finished cleaning the kitchen and then spent a couple of hours with my trusty old pruners, helping Farmsister and Veg Man harvest pussy willows to sell at market in decorative bundles. They just chainsawed the trees off a couple inches above the ground, and then we went at them with pruners and only took the nice branches, and the rest are going through the woodchipper to be mulch. VegMan pointed out the line they'd cut back to last year: this is how you coppice willows, and you can harvest them like this every year. They were fifteen feet tall, all new growth.

Soon we'll have daffodils. Mom had too many at her house, and a couple years ago she and Dad dug up buckets and buckets of them and brought them over and we dug a trench in the hillside and tipped them in. And now they're about ready to be divided again, LOL.

We have pullet eggs too. The chickens are laying pretty well, manageable amounts. We've started packing the eggs by weight, which is a little time-consuming.

OK that's enough wittering. Have I got any photos? Hmm.

the view from the little creek down into the Quackenkill, alongside the back of the old granary. Morning, sun coming through the trees and lighting up the red-stained old siding, the neighbor's house visible at the other end of the cut.

2. A pig friend, muddy snoot questing toward the camera in the sunshine of the winter livestock barn, which has a plastic south-facing roof to let in all the light it can.

3. Farmsister, in her chainsaw chaps and safety gear, chainsawing down the pussy willows in front of the solar panels. (They measured, before they planted the little trees; they'd have to be 40 feet tall to block the light on the solar panels in any season, which I don't think a pussy willow would do, but it's still important to prune them back whether we harvest them for the catkins or not.)

That's all, happy spring. I'm so tired.

[disciplinedselfrya]

Fall of 2024 - Goals 🍁

Okay! New season! Let's put that "summertime sadness" away and starting working on our goals! 💪

Now, before you start writing ten different areas of your life that you want to improve…stop! You're not setting goals, but failure.

I know you are enthusiastic, but calm down a little. Because you have school and as sad as it might sound to you, school takes a lot of time. And if you are on this blog, you can't afford bad grades.

So let's set manageable goals. I want you to choose three things in your life that you will focus on the next three months.

And if you are still in school, your academic life should be one of them.

For me, those three areas are:

Education (my grades, knowledge and Olympiad work)

Physical health (my diet, workout schedule and daily steps)

Skills - literature and communication, maybe psychology (writing on this blog, writing poetry, attending all sorts of events where I have the chance to meet people who work in the field, volunteering)

Some other examples might be your financial situation, your mental health, your social skills, network, hobbies or one important project.

This fall, I want to focus on getting fit and healthy, working for the Olympiad and learning about literature, communication and psychology while also getting to know more people (my network).

Now that you know what are the areas in your life that you want to work on, think about how you will take action. Autumn has three months. At this point, you only need to focus on September.

After each one of the things above, write what you'll do to reach your goals.

For my education:

I will study every day using effective techniques

I will talk to my teacher and make a plan for the Olympiad that I will follow

I will do my homework as soon as I can

For my physical health:

I will start working out 6 days a week again: three times a week weights, three times a week cardio (dancing, swimming and maybe running)

I will walk to school and go on walks when I can

I will follow a healthy diet (I will post the rules soon)

For my skills (and network):

I will make a schedule for my posts once school starts and write consistently

I will have the courage to take initiative and start conversations

I will attend events related to my interests (at least one this month)

Note: everything will be done after I get back from my second trip. I am leaving the city today and I will return on Friday. My school year starts on the 9th of September and this is the day when I will actually start studying and everything else. Next week, all I want is to have fun! <3

They might seem like a lot, I know. But you won't actually do all these every day.

For instance, I will have days when I will just work for the Olympiad, study, go to my dance class and write a post (except for school and eating healthy). Or I will have an event and do some homework, maybe go to the gym after this.

You have to take each day as it is. And stay consistent.

If this is too much for you, choose two areas instead of three.

Focusing just on your grades and health, for example, is way better than having five different tasks on your plate daily and ditching them all. 👌

Hope this helps! Keep going! And have a loooovely autumn! 💖 Rya

[sideblogforquery-argh]

People are not using pronouns, using wrong words, but I don’t remind anyone verbally. TW: Su1cide, s3lf h4rm, anorex1a mentions.

TLDR at bottom, I appreciate if anyone reads this or has any advice. Other key points in bold.

I’m sorry this is so long, and I promise this is about nonbinary stuff, but there are Complications, if you will:

1. Autistic doormat. (Professionally diagnosed)

2. Anxious and hates confrontation of any kind.

3. Chronic pain that stops me from going places and doing things.

4. Long history of depression, anxiety, s3lf h4rm, su1cide attempts.

5. Speak in a high pitched voice (not natural, forced again by anxiety of being viewed as competent and mature and not having my limitations taken seriously)

6. Have feminine mannerisms.

7. Have a very slight build and feminine features.

8. I have not had IRL friends for ten years, or online friends for about six.

9. Premenstrual dysphoric disorder.

10. Underweight, low key restrictive eating disorder (I will gladly maintain current weight, but comment on my body, eating habits or try to feed me more and the anorex1a says Hello. Also maintaining low weight to avoid “filling out” as much as possible in breast area.)

I’m 25 and nonbinary. I’ve known I was nonbinary since 2014/2015. I had come out verbally to my mom many years ago, maybe around 2017. Came out to brother via a written sign on my door and then a short verbal confirmation in late spring last year. At my high school graduation last year (age 24) I had my write up read aloud by the principal include “I look forward to being my authentic enby self” and I wore a pronoun pin and necklace. My grandparents were also at the ceremony. I reactivated my Facebook account and posted an artistic image and write up explaining my pronouns, name, etc. I have a variety of pride and pronoun items, pins on my backpack, a They/Them pronoun necklace, a keychain. I usually have some sort of sign declaring my pronouns and sometimes my name on my door. I even attended my local Pride parade and festival last August with my mom. Also since coming out I have explored neopronouns and I like to use Ae/Aer for myself.

Now, as mentioned at the very top, I am a doormat. I hate being bother, I have had huge mental and physical health challenges. I always want to help, to do things, I’ve been trapped at home with no pain free or easy way to go into town. I’ve been alone for a very long time, not attending school, and then trying to do it by myself online. I am also AFAB and I generally don’t present in a “gender non-conforming” matter. (Put in quotes because I am not a girl) Just the other night, there was a talking head on the news who’s name was Tiana* and my mom gleefully exclaimed “her name is Tiana*, she has the same name as you! You almost never hear anyone with the name Tiana*!”

ANYWAYS, to the point, I can never manage to bring myself to verbally remind anyone to use my pronouns. I can’t discuss my dysphoria with anyone, including my counsellor, which has really increased in the last few months. My counsellor had to be told what gender dysphoria is, and he’s trying but I don’t feel comfortable talking to him about it. My PMDD is also not only making my mental health in general really mad, but increasing my gender dysphoria. I have tried birth control for this, and it resulted in a suicide attempt.

I came out a year ago now to the wider family network / world, but it feels like everyone has completely ignored that fact. I came out of the closet, but a new, iron maiden style one has been built around me by anyone and everyone who perceives “me.”

I put “me” is quotation marks because it’s not actually me that anyone is seeing or talking to, it’s the mirage of a past person. I just feel so weak and pathetic, I don’t speak up for myself, I just let it happen. I don’t exist, not according to how I am referred to my people the vast majority of the time. They/them does get used at home frequently, but more often it’s my birth name. I’ve gone through waves of uncomfortable indifference to just feeling really shitty, having an abuse of use of that name, where now I am starting to not feel neutral but dislike it. It’s always, “Tiana* this”, and “it’s in Tiana’s* room,” “I think Tiana* has it, don’t you?”

I just feel hopeless. I don’t see myself ever being able to exist as actually myself. If I can’t remind my family in my safe home to use my pronouns; or that I want to use a different name, OR that (body pain permitting) I’d probably like to have my breasts and nipples removed; how am I supposed to reminded anyone else? The massage therapist, the doctor, the other pain specialist, the orthopaedic surgeon, the counsellor, the psychiatrist, the osteopath, anyone and everyone who I’ve ever met before who just, “she/her’s” and “Tiana*’s” me.

*Tiana is not actually my name, it is used for example purposes only.

TLDR: I have a variety of visual objects and signs that describe my pronouns and nonbinary-ness, but I have almost never reminded anyone verbally to use my pronouns and that I am not a girl. The most I can do is squeak out “they” quietly. How can I actually be brave and speak up for myself for once?