combat vest

What Did I Do To Deserve You?

As requested a while back, Daddy kink Logan, i have sinned.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: Smut, pure smut. its just porn bro, oral sex (both recieving) fingering, DaddyKink!Logan,  heavy snoggin’. face-sitting, praise, worship, etcetc.

A/N: GIF isn’t mine

~

The moonlight shone through the window of your room, the white and blue rays illuminating the pale sheets of the bed. The night was young, winter, only 7 in the evening.

You sauntered over the room towards the window pane, dressed in only a t-shirt and panties, your hair still damp from your shower and a book in hand. You had gone through all of the ones on your shelf and this was the last one left unread: The Double.

The moon was full, the sky was clear and it had only a few stray clouds, a clear, rain-free night nonetheless. You always wondered what space was like, personally, the feeling of weightlessness and silence surrounding you, the earth behind you as you floated far away.

You looked back to see the sleeping and lightly snoring Logan sprawled out on your bed, still in his combat gear from the previous mission he came back from earlier in the evening.

He looked so at peace, so gentle and quiet.

As you sat next to him on the soft mattress, you set your book on the bedside table. Lifting a gentle hand to his forehead, you brushed some stray hairs from his face, gliding your fingers against his soft skin.Logan grunted as he fluttered his eyes open and smiled once he saw you.

Rolling onto his back, he winced.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you injured from the mission?”

Logan grunted whilst nodding his head. “I uh, I feel a pulling sensation in my shoulders and back, doll, could you help me get this shit off please?” He muttered, motioning to his combat vest and trousers.

“Of course, honey, do you want me to run you a hot shower afterwards?” You asked, your fingers deftly unzipping everything that was unzippable.

“Mhm, please, sugar,” Logan mumbled before placing an innocent kiss to your plump lips.

Fast forward to 20 minutes, Logan had been in the shower for about half that time. You occupied your time by reading more of the book in your palms. You were so engulfed that you didn’t notice Logan sauntering out of the bathroom.

What you DID notice was the towel hanging so low on his waist he may as well have not worn it at all. You licked your lips at the sight of the hair on his torso, trailing all the way from the v of his hips to his chest.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.” Smirking, he placed a hand on the edge of the towel, tugging it down a little, the glistening of his wet body making you bite your lip at the thought of what lay underneath.

“Can’t I admire the art?” You smiled up at him, placing your book onto your bedside table once again. You ushered him to come and sit on the bed, he winced at the feeling of his muscles stretching.

“How about a massage?”

“What did I do to deserve you, sugar?” You giggled at the little nickname, raising to your knees and kneeling behind him. You started to knead his muscles, placing light little kisses in your wake. You hit a certain spot near his shoulder blade which made him groan.

“Mm, it feels so good Y/N. Please keep going.” You felt a pang of heat between your thighs as he kept sighing and groaning, the odd curse coming out then and there.

As your fingers kneaded the muscle between his neck and shoulders, Logan whipped around and captured your lips in a searing kiss which would have made your knees buckle and collapse if you were standing.

“You’re my rock, you know that, sugar?” He smiled against your lips. Logan laced his fingers through your hair as he laid you down on the bed, his free hand coming to nudge your knees apart so he could snake his way in between them.

“So, so beautiful, and all mine, all mine.” You whimpered as he started to place agonizingly slow kisses down your neck, the mixture of tongue and teeth making you arch your back and raise your hips. You felt the growing hardness of him grinding against your heat, and the sensation made you moan.

“Oh, Jesus…”

“Jesus can’t save you now, kitten. Now would you be a good girl for me and stay still for me? Can you do that?” You nodded at him, “I need you to use your words baby.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed planted wet kisses down your lithe body, skimming the curves of your waist and hips and thighs, you let out small moans and whines as Logan’s lips skipped past your sex, he was always such a fucking tease.

“You want these off, princess?” You looked down and saw his index finger curled over the band of your panties, pinging them twice against your hip bone.

“Please,” You keened.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Daddy.” your fingers raked through the soft tresses of his hair. Your hips writhe upwards as he pulled the fabric down your thighs tantalizingly slow. As they got to your calves, Logan raised to his knees and bent your legs upwards, kissing along your skin, worshiping you.

“You can get these back later…” Logan spread your legs with one hand as the other tossed your panties across the room, you giggled as you watched them land on a lamp on your desk whilst feeling your boyfriend’s lips against your collarbone. You felt the hard line of Logan’s cock underneath his towel, and you bucked your hips upwards but stopped.

“I wanna please you tonight, I wanna make tonight about you, can I?” Your voice was lower than a whisper, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch against the pressed up fabric of the towel. Logan raised his head and kissed you fervently, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip, coaxing you to open your mouth, so you did. As you felt is tongue stroke against yours, you both let out moans, the vibration sending shocks of warmth down to your core,  making you ground your hips against his.

“Anything you want, my love,” Logan mumbled against your lips, you pecked him lightly and used your strong thighs to roll him over and straddle him, his hands resting at the curve of your waist

“What am I allowed to do, Daddy?” You batted your eyelashes at him as you stroked his broad chest, your hands drifting lower and lingering over the edge of his towel.

“Like I said angel, anything you want…” He bit his lips as you shifted down his legs, tugging the bath towel off of his hips.

His cock sprung up and you licked your lips, taking him in your soft hands. You stroked him up and down for a few seconds before lowering your mouth to his tip, softly licking the head. He groaned lowly as his fingers laced through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his length. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked on his tip, slowly flicking your tongue against him.

You popped him out of your mouth, looking up at him through your lashes as you licked a long stripe from base to tip and you watched him groan loudly and throw his head back.

“That’s my good girl, get my cock all wet baby, show me how nasty you can be, hmm?” At his word you spat on his cock, making him wet and lubricated as you lowered your head onto him some more. You relaxed your throat and took all of him in, deep-throating him.

“Oh Y/N, baby, that feels so good, you naughty little minx.”

You looked at him through your lashes again, seeing him biting his lip as you reached your small hand up to his balls, massaging them carefully as you kissed up and down his shaft again, lightly sucking at the underside, right on top of the thick vein.

“You like that, Daddy? Am I doing good?”

“Y-Yes baby, fuck, oh God, fuck- k-keep doing that, I love it when you suck my cock like this, princess. Such a good girl for your daddy…” You moaned at his words, the wetness between your legs slowly sliding down your thighs and you reached down to tease your clit, moaning once more and earning a choked whimper through Logan’s lips as the vibrations went through his cock.

“I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it?” You hummed and took all of him in your mouth, licking and sucking as you kept bobbing your head up and down. You suddenly felt a hot, thick liquid enter your mouth, swallowing it down- trying not to gag at the salty and sweet taste.

You released him as a little bit of cum dribbled from your lips and onto your chin, Logan leaned up and wiped it with his thumb and brought it to your mouth. You suckled on his thumb, collecting everything that he had on it. He placed a delicate but passionate kiss upon your lips again, the erotic taste of himself lingering on his tongue as he pulled away.

“Oh Y/N, what did I do in my life to deserve you in my life, hmm? C'mon, I want to do something new.” He gripped your hips in his large hands, squeezing and massaging.

“W-What is this ‘new thing’ Daddy?”

“Sit on my face, baby, I know you wanted tonight to be about me, so let me do this one thing, please?”

“O-Okay, um, could you…?” Gesturing to his hands, silently asking him to help you up onto his level.

As your pussy hovered over his face, you felt his short breaths fan over your heat, making you gasp. Logan smirked at your blushing state and lowered your hips down, connecting his mouth to your wet pussy.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, “so wet for me, sugar, is this all for me?”

“Y-Yes!” You gasped as you felt a large hand spank you lightly on your ass and his soft tongue running lightly up and down you folds.

“Yes what, Y/N?”

“Yes, Daddy I-oh, fuck. More please, please Daddy!”

Logan held you in place with his hands on your ass, dragging you down onto his face as his tongue darted out to lick you and taste you. You moaned Logan’s name at the feeling of his wet tongue drawing circles against your clit, which earned you a hard spank to your ass cheek again.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not my name at the moment baby girl, what is it? Hmm?” He kept lightly spanking you until you could form the strength to speak through the intense pleasure of his tongue.

“D-Daddy, oh, fuck!” You shouted as you felt Logan’s wonderful tongue probing against the entrance of your pussy. He licked lightly at your labia, sucked hard on your clit and it made you grind your pussy hard onto his face, you realised what you had done and jolted your hips back, but Logan’s strong hands kept them in place.

You let out something between a sharp moan and a whine as you felt one cool, calloused finger nudge your pussy lips apart, sliding slowly inside and curling against your g-spot.

“Hnng, you like that baby? Hmm?”

"F-Fuck yes, Daddy, I love it so much, please k-keep going!” You cried out as you felt Logan suck hard on your clit whilst he inserted another finger into your throbbing heat, both probing against your g-spot.

“You gonna cum, kitten? My beautiful Y/N is gonna cum, isn’t she?”

With his hoarse words and the flicking of his tongue against your bundle of nerves, you let the coil in your lower stomach unravel and you became a moaning, arching, grinding mess. You came so hard you had to bite down on your arm to stop from screaming the whole tower down, leaving teeth indents on your tanned skin.

Logan assumed your legs had gone weak, so he used his strong arms to lift you up and place you on his lap, stroking your hair and kissing your neck and face as you gained a steady breathing pattern once more, slightly gasping when your wetness rubbed against his still-hard cock.

“How do you feel, baby? Did that feel good?” He whispered, his lips ghosting against yours.

“Mmm, yes Daddy, I-I loved it. Thank you, can I kiss you?” You whispered, earning a 'mhmm’ from him. You connected your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You began to subconsciously roll your hips, trying to find more friction, you were wet and still so aroused you could cry.

“You want my cock, Y/N? Does my baby girl want her Daddy’s cock inside of her wet, warm, tight little pussy? You want it rough or soft, kitten? Hard or slow? Tell me, sweetheart.” Logan growled and tugged at the collar of your t-shirt, attacking your neck with his teeth and tongue, his dominance making you turn into putty in his hands.

“I-I don’t know, whatever feels- oh, that feels so good!” You hissed as Logan bit down hard onto the patch of skin between your shoulder and neck, he tapped on the fabric of your t-shirt, asking permission to take it off, and you lifted your arms in consent. His mouth assaulted your collarbones, kissing down your chest as his hands squeezed your breasts, his tongue flicking across each nipple with wanton need.

You rolled over onto your back, Logan’s muscular frame hovering above yours and pinning your arms above your head with one hand as his other tickled down your body, earning some happy giggles from your lips.

“Lo-Daddy, t-that tickles- ah!” He chuckled with you, pressing his lips everywhere from your face to your neck to your chest. You let out a content sigh when his fingers stopped dancing against your skin and instead started stroking your wet folds, preparing you for the thick cock that was yet to fill you up.

“You want my thick, hard cock inside you, Y/N? You want me pushing you to the edge, making you cum so hard you scream my name?” You nodded as you bit your lip, his tip slotting in your entrance. “I need you to use your words, kitten, speak up.”

“Yes, Daddy, I want your cock inside me, I want to cum so hard around you, I want you to abuse my pussy, mold it into the shape of your cock, please,” You writhed against him, your hips bucking against his cock, wanting more, more, more.

As Logan slid his cock all the way in, you both let out moans and groans. The feeling of being filled with your boyfriend’s thick cock almost made you cum then and there, but the non-existent movement of his hips helped you calm yourself.

“Go slow, please Daddy…” At your words, Logan moved on queue, his hips creating a slow rocking motion, the curve of his cock rubbing against THAT spot, your bodies moved against each other like waves, one of his hands were in your hair, tugging very lightly, and the other was on your hip, keeping you in place as he fucked slowly into your wet heat.

You let out a low moan as he slid all the way out and slammed back into you, hard. Logan kept his slow pace until you wrapped your legs against his hips, your ankles digging into his ass, bringing him closer, he ground against you, the soft stubble in his pubic area rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

He started to quicken his pace, the wet slapping of skin and your heavy breaths and light moans filling the room. The wet squelching sound of his cock sinking deep inside you at a fast pace made your pussy quiver around him, earning a loud groan to rip from his chest. He licked and sucked on your neck, leaving small hickeys here, there and everywhere.

“F-fuck, princess, Daddy wants to take you from behind, can he do that?” You nodded as you looked into his eyes, his pupils stretched so wide he barely had any iris left.

He slipped his cock out of your abused pussy, lightly spanking it with his cock, “You gonna be a good little girl, Y/N, and take Daddy’s cock from the back? You gonna let Daddy fuck you doggy style, hm?” His voice was gruff and hoarse as you clambered onto your hands and knees.

“Spread your legs, sweetness, Daddy wants to see that pretty pink pussy of yours.” You opened your legs and immediately felt Logan’s deft fingers part your folds, teasing your slit and spreading your slick from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp and Logan your hips backwards against his fingers as he slowly pumped them in and out only once.

You felt Logan’s thighs press against yours as he lined himself up to your entrance once more, his hand on the soft skin of your back, urging you to arch your back.

He started a slow pace again, his cock pumping in and out of you at a torturing speed, you felt every vein of him throb inside your wanton pussy, your muscles slightly spasming around his girth. Logan started to shift his hips a little faster, leaning over and curling his fist into your hair, yanking backwards as his hips started to slam roughly into yours.

He pulled you up by your hair, his hand wrapping around your throat and the hand in your hair snaking around your hips to toy with your throbbing, engorged clit.

You moaned at all of the sensations.

“You like it when I choke you?” His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, making your eyes roll back as the pleasure spread through your whole body. “You like it when Daddy abuses your pussy, making you scream and moan and squirm?”

“Y-Ye-s!” You choked out, feeling your orgasm rising. Logan spanked you so hard you knew your ass would be a pretty red for the rest of the week.

“Yes, what?” You felt his plump lips move against your earlobe as he growled the words.

“Y-yes DADDY! AH!” Logan spanked your clit lightly, making another jolt of intense pleasure roll through your body, goosebumps rising at the new feeling.

He raised a hot hand to your breasts, tweaking both hard nipples one at a time before moving his fingers against your clit again, drawing hard and slow circles around the sensitive nub.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped.

“Then cum, my sweet Y/N, I’m right behind you, ahh, fuck, baby.”

A few spanks to your clit and you were a goner, your hands braced on the headboard as your pussy quivered and contracted against Logan’s thick cock. White spots started to flash before your eyes and your breathing hitched. You soon heard Logan’s loud groans as he shot thick ribbons of hot cum inside your core.

As you came down from the euphoric feeling of your mind blowing orgasm, Logan slipped his slowly softening cock out of your hole, bringing you to curl up against his chest as he laid down, his rough hands rubbing your soft skin.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl. I love you so much, Y/N.” You turned around to face him, your hands stroking against the stubble on his jaw.

“I love you too, Logan, now let’s get some rest before the sun rises.”

Tekken 7 Fated Retribution New Default Outfit Collection

OUTFIT UPDATE BLOG

Okay! So we have seen More Outfits now! I shall go through and include the ones we’ve already seen for this comprehensive review of them.

Hwoarang: 

Okay let’s get this one done first. XD I mean he WAS my old main and he seems to be making the most waves.

Here’s the thing; I don’t think the ENTIRE thing is a diaster. I feel that however:

-The tribal short sleeved shirt

-The cheesy tribal design on the pants

Are screwing with it. Take the shirt off, make it sleeveless, lose the decal, or make it a tank top and lose the decal on the pants and I think we’re onto something to be honest.

I mean the tribal designs are like, so dated. Like they’re so ‘90s they bleed Crystal Pepsi and wear flannel. They’re more '90s than blonde femme fatale concepts(HEYOOOOOOOO <3.)

Black hair is fine. People can dye their hair! I mean he’s known for his red but we can still make it red.

LOVE the eyepatch. Actually looks fucking dangerous, like he’s been through some shit.

LOVE the metal boots. I mean like he gets more and more metal on his boots every game. He seriously looks like he’s going to brain a motherfucker. Like jesus they look like they’re going to hurt.

Loving the collar. Yes, the leather collar fits and well with Devil Jin’s bondage now it’s fitting. XD

Sorry JinXiao fans but the costumes have spoken, we all know Hwoarang/Jin are meant to be.

OVERALL: Lose the decals, swap the shirt to sleeveless or a tank top. Honestly I think minus that stuff, it’s really not a bad outfit and indeed makes him look like he went through some serious shit. Or well you could give him his DR black and white card outfit. 

Devil Jin:

Bondage Much? Jesus Devil Jin you’ve outdone yourself. It’s like he jumped into a pool of Final Fantasy with the belts before following up with a shot of a BDSM club. What HAVE you and Hwoarang been doing on your spare time?

That being said, I like the shredded sleeves and the chain. Gives him a sort of insane look. That being said I wish he’d get some new pants and boots; I think he would look pretty awesome with buckled goth-boots worn over some leather pants with that getup.

I realize I tend to prefer my guys with less on the upper body. XD I’m seeing a pattern here, as I’d probably have made that sleeveless as well.

OVERALL: Pretty good I think. I like the bondage, again. XD Change the pants and boots though. Rip the sleeves off the rest of the way. Just go rivethead-bondage with this shit all the way. 

Steve:

I think Steve Fox may have gotten one of the biggest lucky streaks here. His is really fucking cool. Plain and simple he looks like the boxing champion that he is.

Ripped physique, nice color design, awesome robe, decal on the shorts might not need to be there but all in all I think his is about perfect for him. I mean while I really dig more casual outfits(one of my Steve customs is pretty casual), if they’re going for a 'ring look’ for Steve I think they could have certainly done worse here.

OVERALL: Yeah really, nice job on Steve guys! Though I’m sad he doesn’t have a Union Jack fundoshi. :<

Alisa:

Holy shit it’s a lot better than Waifu-Bot. It actually looks respectable and pretty cute in a non animebot way. The wings look really pretty, her little antenna are cute, it has a very RAcaseal look from Phantasy Star Online(If those who hadn’t played that game, they were the Female Android Ranger/Gunner class. They had the highest accuracy. And now you know and knowing’s half the battle!)

Skirt looks nice, color scheme works, though I will say fan artists are going to have an absolute blast with this one. And by blast I mean 'JESUS ALISA COULD YOU HAVE WORN A LITTLE MORE DETAIL.’

OVERALL: 100% better than the old kawaii-bot guys. I mean Dr. B would probably want to design her as human as possible. Lars would approve highly.

Paul:

USA! USA! USA! Paul’s is so gaudy, it…fits. XD Like, Hwoarang’s gaudy goes a bit far with the decals and stuff but Paul blatantly wearing American flags is just so damn Paul. Like he’s seriously the only guy in Tekken that can get away with wearing American flags.

This costume is amazing since it’s sort of like Paul dressing like Paul for Halloween or something. The leather, the biker stuff, all fits him. It’s like so overblown, it’s a shoutout to his Tekken 3 outfit all while being unmistakably Paul.

Wonder what’s up with the beard though. Did he dye his beard or does he dye his hair? May have to ask Marshall.

OVERALL: Would have loved to have seen his hair down, but it’s, as I said, very very fitting. And hilarious. 

That covers the new ones! Let’s go back now and do a quick revisit of the others that had been announced:

Bryan:

Awesome, just awesome. So cyberpunk mercenary looking. I missed his more merc look. Would love to see SWAT Bryan as an option again too for a custom!  

Asuka:

Pretty cool, no real opinion either way, don’t care much about the character.

Nina:

Not bad, I’m amused in my brain from the 3rd Birthday shout-out and yes that’s the shout-out because that game and DbD are about as good as each other. XD Grenades and guns are amusing since with Anna as my sister I’d pack to my wedding as well. Yes she’s marrying Lee or maybe Bryan(that fight in the preview wasn’t a fight, it was foreplay.)

Leo:

Looks neat, though I’m not quite sure what’s going on with it. It’s like…quasi-bondage? I never really saw Leo as that type. It’s pretty cool looking, though again I’m not quite sure what’s going on with it. (DvJ’s is more clear bondage fun. XD)

Feng:

Man I love his. He needed some more character IMO, and it looks like Lu Bu which fits Feng to a T. I mean I forever see him as Lu Bu in Warriors now. Excellent job.

King:

They gave him a cape. MAYBE they could have done a little more here? The cape fits, don’t get me wrong, they could have just added more. Maybe his long hair and a few costume tweaks?

Xiaoyu:

Looks very nice overall! I don’t much care about the character(I don’t mind her, she’s just there for me), but she looks pretty in this. Nice outfit design!

Lili:

VERY fitting. It’s like, something Lili would wear to one of her family’s higher-end meetings or functions. The teacup is a lovely touch. The preview vid looks like Sergei’s working for her because Mr. Rochefort hired him as a bodyguard. It’s awesome. I would have preferred her goth/punk look from DR, but I’ll take this. I hope to be able to customize the goth/punk look.

Sergei:

LOVE IT. Total general now. Like he got promoted because he is a badass. SO fitting. My only change I’d make is tuck the trousers into the boots; the tall boots have a more sort of fitting look, IMO, to a commander type. (Still hope for a great 'field custom’ with a vest, combat boots, cargo type of trousers since that’s my usual custom look in game.)

Okay that about wraps it up I think! All in all, it looks visually very promising. Some things could be changed…but well that’s why customs exist.

And now on THAT note…I will be back in a second blog with the trailer! Oh yes, the trailer…

nggggggh…

That Would Be Enough

A/N: Alright alright alright, the time has come for the longest oneshot I have ever written. This little beauty has been written in honor of @yourbuddyyourpalyourbucky‘s birthday. She deserves so much more than a fic, but I’m a terrible friend and haven’t gotten around to mailing the rest of it off yet. Regardless! Roo! I wrote this fic specifically for you! I really really hope you like it and that you have the best birthday ever!! I hope you enjoy the fic ;u;

Pairing: BuckyxReader

Word Count: 7627

Warnings: Angst, lots and lots of angst.


There are a lot of things that we take for granted in life. Things we forget to take in, savour, relish and appreciate. When I met him I made a promise to myself that I would slow down and live in every single moment I had with him. I made a promise to him that I would never lose myself. That I would make sure to slow down and take care of myself. Coincidentally, I made him make me the same promise.

James Buchanan Barnes is an incredible man. He’s strong, kind, soft, caring and intensely dedicated. He has a focus unlike any other person I’ve ever met. I admire him deeply. I might even go so far as to say that I love him. The only drawback to that is the fact that he doesn’t feel he deserves it. He’s very self destructive in that respect. After so many years as an assassin and of being alone, he always seems to talk himself out of any and every good thing that could possibly have a place in his life.

I remember quite vividly the first time I realized he was doing this.

After one of Stark’s famous after parties died down, the whole team was strewn about in one of the various lounges on one of the upper levels of the tower. Everyone was laughing, drinking, talking amongst themselves and just enjoying themselves in general. I remember watching Bucky from the other side of the coffee table. He was sitting quietly, observing everyone, listening to their banter, a small smile playing at his lips. Then, in an instant, it was gone. The grip he had on the beer bottle in his right hand tightened and his left hand seemed to clamp down on his thigh. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he talked himself out of having a good time. His gaze fell from the group to his lap and I felt my heart plummet to the ground floor. This man has been through hell and back too many times to count and if anyone deserved a win, it was him. The only flaw in that logic being that he was at war with himself.

After a moment of concentrating on his lap he had downed his beer, said goodnight to Steve and excused himself from the room.

I remember staring at the whiskey in my rocks glass, wanting so badly to go after him. To convince him that he was allowed to have fun and bring him back to the group. In the end, I talked myself out of it and, instead, excused myself and went to my own room.

Over time he and I grew close.

An injury prevented me from going out on field missions for a couple months. After everything he’d done, Bucky made a deal with Steve that he would only be called in on the team as a last resort. He didn’t want to get back into combat and field work, so he stayed back and took care of me unless a mission called for his assistance.

For the most part he just made sure I had food, water, and pain medication and ensured that I didn’t strain my body when I moved. In return for his help, I became his movie, music and book catch up buddy. In the span of a week and a half he read through the entirety of Harry Potter and got me to watch each movie with him as soon as he finished the corresponding book.

When he finished “Order Of The Phoenix” he, gently, dragged me out of bed at two in the morning to watch the movie. I was half asleep during the film, but I remember him crying when Sirius went through the veil. After the movie was over we both crashed on the couch. We fell asleep, my head on his shoulder and his head resting atop mine. I was the first to wake up the next morning. Bucky had shifted in his sleep and his arms were looped loosely around my middle, his head in my lap. He looked more peaceful than he had in months and, needless to say, I was no longer upset with him for waking me up in the middle of the night just to watch a movie.

When he first arrived, he had terrible nightmares. That’s not to say he doesn’t have nightmares anymore, but they were the “wake up in the middle of the night, yelling, screaming, thrashing and drenched in a cold sweat” sort of nightmares. At first Steve was called into his room to help calm him down, but after about a month of him taking care of me he started seeking me out instead. Most of the time he’ll just crawl into bed with me and fall back asleep, but other times he’ll gently nudge me till I roll over and curl into his side before gently wrapping his arms around me and falling asleep with his chin on top of my head.

Sometimes I’d be awake when he came in. I welcome him with open arms and an offer to talk. Until recently he would shake his head and decline the offer, but now he’ll quickly tell me what happened in his vision in a hushed voice before slowly relaxing and falling asleep.

Tonight is no different.

I feel the bed dip slightly, rousing me from my shallow slumber. When I roll over, I find bucky staring at me, but his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. His eyes glisten with the beginnings of tears and I immediately reach out to him, cupping one of his stubbly cheeks with my hand.

“Hey, Buck,” My voice comes out quiet and groggy sounding. “What’s up?”

“I killed them,” He whispers, his gaze still far off. “I killed all of them…”

“Whaddaya mean, sweetheart?” I ask, my mind still too tired to understand what he’s talking about.

“Tony’s mother, his father…” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks. I quickly wipe them away with my thumbs, waking up more at the sight of his distress. “So many people dead… so many… and it’s all my fault,” He covers his face with his hands, his fingers tangling in the hair that frames his face and pulling harshly. “All my fault…”

“Bucky,” I say, my tone gentle, trying to loose his hands from his hair. He just shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Bucky!” I say with a little more force this time, trying a little harder now to calm him down. “Come on, sweetheart, I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

His grip loosens slightly and I seize the opportunity to grab his wrists. I gently pull his hands out of his hair and away from his face. He makes no attempt to pull at his hair again and I quickly busy myself with wiping away his tears.

“I’m so sorry.” he looks up at me, eyes tired.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I card my fingers through his hair, trying to soothe and lull him back into sleep. He yawns widely, wrapping his arms around my waist and nestling into my body.

“I’m sorry…” He repeats, his voice more drowsy now.

“Don’t worry abou-”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

The words seem to fall easily from his mouth before his soft snores fill the room.

“I love you too.” I whisper.

I don’t know where to go from there.

Bucky just told me he loves me and then promptly fell asleep before I could say anything. I told him I loved him, but I don’t think he heard me. What am I supposed to do in this situation? Wake him up to tell him I love him? No, I can’t take his rest from him. Should I confront him in the morning? What if he didn’t really mean it? What would even happen if I asked him?

I lay awake, trying to think of what to do until my body can’t handle it anymore and I fall into an involuntary sleep.

I’m roused by a siren piercing the air. It can only mean one thing: We’ve got an emergency mission.

I scramble out of bed, racing to my closet in search of my uniform. Throwing open the doors, I rip the outfit from its hangers and toss it onto the bed. I peel off my pyjamas before struggling into my sports bra and leggings. From there I tug on my pants and tight compression shirt. I hear something shift on my bed as I’m tucking in my shirt. I’m startled for a moment before I realize it’s Bucky. He didn’t leave this time. I pause for a moment, amazed that he’s still here. Then I remember what happened last night and yank my overshirt and coat on, harshly berating myself for being soft. He was just tired. I’m his friend and his colleague. I can’t afford to think like that.

Before he can even sit up in bed I scoop up my kevlar vest and combat boots before sprinting through my door and down the hallway. I practically throw myself down the stairs as I descend them two at a time in an attempt to get to the hangar in record time.

When I arrive at the quinjet I startle Steve so badly he nearly drops the tablet he’s holding. He just looks at me, surprise etched into his features. He’s never seen me ready for a mission this quickly, let alone in an unscheduled one.

“Good morning.” I say, quickly boarding the quinjet and plopping down in my seat.

“Good morning.” He responds, watching me with curiosity as I tug on my boots and tie them almost too tightly. “You’re up early.”

“I guess I am.” I pull at the tongue of my left boot to loosen it up a little. “Before you ask why, I’m trying something new.”

“Alright,” He shrugs and goes back to his pre-mission prep work.

As soon as he’s out of sight I shrug off my jacket and unzip the collar of my overshirt. I rise from my seat, leaving my jacket and vest in a heap on my seat and busy myself with my own preparations. I move about the quinjet making sure all of my gear is there. My goggles, guns, knives, brass knuckles, extra magazines, rounds and clips. Everything is in it’s rightful place, ready for use when the time is right. I move on, doing a systems check of the software for my goggles. The scanners are working perfectly and the information readout is clean. Everything is good. From there I move on to setting up comms for the mission.

I sit in my seat, legs criss cross, hunched over the tablet and keyboard set up in my lap. I’m focusing on syncing up everyone’s earwigs, making sure connections stay strong and that everyone can be reached, even in a dead zone.

When I look up from my work, I find that almost everyone has taken their seat. When clint jogs up the ramp and buckles into his seat beside me, Tony takes off and we’re headed off to the mission site.

It’s about five hours before we’re able to land. Finding a hidden landing spot takes time and Steve takes the opportunity to fill us in on the mission at hand.

“Alright, when we were woken up, not so long ago, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had picked up a distress signal from somewhere in Russia. Upon further investigation we determined that the signal came from a Hydra base that was thought to be deserted. We don’t know what we’re going to find once we get in there, so we should be prepared for the worst.” He looks around the cabin, very serious. “Be safe and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I will try my very best.” Clint says from my side. I elbow him in the ribs and he laughs. “Sorry, just trying to diffuse the tension.”

I roll my eyes and shove him, gently, before standing and distributing everyone’s earwigs. We do a quick comms check before everyone gathers their gear. After going over the plan, the ramp is lowered. We exit the quinjet only to be hit with a sharp gust of cold wind.

“Alright,” Tony says, hands on his hips. “Let’s do our jobs and not get killed.”

Everyone splits off into their pairs. Steve goes with Sam, Nat and Clint head off on their own, Tony flies off with Rhodey hot on his trail and Bucky and I are left to our own devices.

Our task is to sweep the upper and lower levels of the east wing. There are five floors altogether. It’s a lot of ground to cover and we don’t have a lot of time.

“Should we split up?” I ask.

“No,” Bucky answers. “Whatever’s here could be dangerous. We need to stick together.”

I nod stiffly and we head into the facility.

The East wing is furthest away from the entrance. We sprint down the hall to our assigned area. When we arrive we find that the ground floor is covered in dust except for about eighteen spots that look like they could be human footprints. Based on the shape of the prints I would guess that whoever they belong to isn’t a soldier.

“Steve,” I press a finger to my earwig so he can hear me. “We’ve got footprints on the ground floor of the East wing.”

“Find out where they came from.” He says. “Be careful.”

“Got it.” Bucky responds.

I pry open the door to the stairway and peer inside. The shaft is lit by flickering emergency lights, giving the entire space an eerie feeling. Without much thought I pull an industrial glow stick from my belt, crack it and hang it around my neck before pulling out my flashlight.

“So,” I shine the light up the stairwell and then down. “Up first, or down?”

“Down,” Bucky produces his own flashlight and turns it on.

“Alright, down it is.”

We quickly descend the stairs to the level labeled B3. After a little looking around we determine that the level is deserted. We move on to B2 and it’s a completely different story. The area is brightly lit and clean. There are different machines everywhere and nearly all of them are making some sort of whirring or beeping noise.

“I guess we know why everywhere else is on emergency power now.” I comment, eyeing our surroundings warily. “Most, if not all, power in the wing is being diverted to this floor.”

“Y’know, I really don’t like that tone of voice.” He says, his voice hushed. “Especially in places like this and on missions like this one.”

“Sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I’m worried about what we might find here. I swear if we find more like the twins I’m gonna lose it.”

“I don’t think we will.” Bucky peers through a windows set into one of the doors, the grip on his gun tightening. “This doesn’t look like the places where they experiment on people. Even if it is, the experiments won’t be down here. They’re more likely to be kept where whoever’s working on them can keep an eye on them. This looks more medical than anything else.”

“Still,” I open one of the doors. “I don’t like the look of… this…place.”

I reel back from the sight before me. There are bodies and flies everywhere. The smell alone has my eyes watering.

“They’re… they’re dead.” Bucky breathes. “All of them. I-I, (Y/N), I can’t… I-”

A loud, pained moan stops his words instantly. Bucky and I both immediately cease any movements, surprised by the sound. We frantically look around, desperately trying to find the source of the noise.

“Where are you?!” I hiss, sifting through the bodies in search of the one live person.

“H-here,” A voice says weakly. I whip my head around, still unable to pinpoint where the voice came from.

“It came from over there.” Bucky points to the other side of the room.

I rush over to where Bucky had pointed to find a man slumped against the wall. He’s covered in blood, his hair is matted and his breathing is labored. The soft orange light from the glowstick makes him look gaunt and sickly.

“Hey,” I say quietly, pushing his hair back from his face. “Hey there, darlin’.” He lazily lifts his eyes to look at me. “What’s your name?”

“D-david,” He manages to stutter out. “M-my name is D-david.”

“Hey, David. I’m (Y/N), this is Bucky.”

“Hi.” Bucky crouches down beside me.

“We’re here to help you.”

“Are there any more of you guys here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” He shakes his head, his words slurring. “They killed everyone else. Th-there was an uprising amongst all of us a-and they killed e-everyone.”

“How are you alive then?”

“I got hit here,” He points to a dark wound on his hip. “A-and I went down. I covered myself w-with as much of the others blood as I could a-and they thought I was dead too.”

“That was a good move.” I nod, impressed by his quick thinking. “Can you walk?”

“I-I think so, if I have help.” He says, nodding slowly, his fatigue obvious in his movements.

“Don’t worry,” I quickly unzip my jacket, take it off and help David into it. “We’ll get you all the help you need.”

Bucky hands me his gun and helps David to his feet. David’s got his arm draped loosely across Bucky’s shoulders, but Buck y has a firm hold on David’s waist. There’s no way he’ll fall from Bucky’s arms. When we reach the stairs, David’s legs won’t carry him, so Bucky scoops him up and carries him bridal style up the two flights of stairs to the ground level.

“Steve, we’ve got a live one.”

“Okay, get them out and keep your guard up.”

“Got it.” I nod even though he can’t see me. “Let’s get outta here, Buck.”

When we reach the main hallway we hear the sounds of combat outside. There are shouts, loud clangs of things against Steve’s shield, both Tony and Rhodey’s repulsors firing, the staccato sounds of shotguns being fired and the short, sporadic bursts of machine gun fire.

“Sounds like a warzone out there.” Bucky says quietly.

“We can do this, we can do this, we can do this, we can…” I chant, bouncing on the balls of my feet a little bit.

“Of course we can do this.” Bucky says. I let out a shaky breath and nod, bouncing a few more times to try and calm myself.

“Is there anyone out there who can grab this guy we found and take him to the quinjet?” I ask over comms. “I mean, we’d do it, but we’re kind of in the killbox right now.”

“I can probably manage a flyby.” Sam’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Where you guys at?”

“Main entrance.” Bucky answers.

“Meet me outside in, uh, now.”

Bucky and I rush out the doors to find Sam running towards us. As soon as he meets us, he take David from Bucky’s arms.

“D’you want your coat back?” David asks, moving to take the clothing off.

“No,” I answer, placing my hand over his. “You need it more than I do right now. Gotta give you all the protection you can get.” I look up at Sam and find a deadly serious look on his face, different from the light hearted expression he usually wears. “You sure you’ve got this?”

“Of course.” He says. “Do you doubt my skill?”

“No, I just want you to be safe.”

Sam nods once before breaking out into a run and taking off into the air. I watch as they disappear, zoning out for a moment before the sound of gunfire pulls me back. I hand Bucky his gun before punching him lightly in the arm and running out to join our teammates.

We throw ourselves into the fray, trying to incapacitate without killing our adversaries. We all do our jobs efficiently and quickly.

Work like this becomes monotonous and methodical, and sometimes things can get blocked out which isn’t good. It just makes our job that much more dangerous.

Bucky gets caught up in battle easily and I notice the danger headed for him before he does. There’s a soldier behind him, gun at the ready and I have to think fast.

“Bucky!” I cry, quickly jumping in between him and the shooter, shielding his body with my own.

“No!” He screams as the sound of gunfire pierces the air.

Most of the bullets only sink into the thick kevlar material of my reinforced pants and vest, but a few lucky shots manage to find weak points in my armor. One hits one of the first bullets that hit my vest and they both pierce my abdomen, finding a painful home there. Another takes up lodging in my right femur and the last nicks something that’s probably important on my neck.

My vision starts to go dark almost immediately and I feel myself teeter on my feet for a moment before I begin to fall to the ground. Someone catches me before my body can make contact with the packed gravel, and through my hazy vision I can see that it was Bucky. From what I can see, he looks distraught and all I want is to reach out to him, to tell him that everything is okay, that he’s gonna be okay and that he’s safe.

I can see his mouth open and close, but it takes a while for his voice to reach my ears.

“No,” He whispers. “No, no, no, no ,no. Please, no.” He pulls me in tight to his chest, rocking back and forth. “You shouldn’t’ve done that. Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t… let you,,, die.” I manage to splutter. “You’re too… important.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not.” He insists, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re more important than I am. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m clockin out here…” I say, my breathing labored. “Don’t worry… you’re okay.”

“No, (Y/N), no!” He cries watching my eyes flutter shut. “I just told you I loved you, you can’t leave me, (Y/N).”

“I love you too… Buck…” I say, my voice and consciousness fading.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)?!” He presses his hands more firmly to my wounds. “Help!” He yells. “HELP!”

His voice is the last thing I hear before everything goes completely black.

There’s a beeping. It wakes me up for a moment, but it’s annoying, so I ignore it and go back to sleep.

The beeping comes back, this time with an antiseptic smell. My eyes flutter open, only to feel the burn of the fluorescent lights. I blink a few time to adjust to the brightness of the room and sit up only to have my muscles scream at me for doing so. The wince that leaves my mouth is loud enough to catch the attention of a nurse near by. He tries to push me back down onto the bed, but I wave him off and try to straighten my posture. Everything hurts and it feels like my entire body is screaming at me, pissed as hell that I felt like moving in the first place.

I slowly look around the room, only finding white tiles with weird minty green accent patterns and pieces here and there. Aside from the two nurses fussing with some machinery across the room, I’m alone. I sigh quietly and allow my head to fell back on my pillow.

I doze off again momentarily only to be woken again by a commotion outside the double doors. The two nurses scurry out into the hallway only to have half of the Avengers push past them and into the room. Clint, Steve, Natasha and Tony stride up and place themselves in a protective semicircle around my bed.

“Hey, guys.” I smile at them and close my eyes, trying to gather the energy and strength for this interaction before opening them again.

“It’s good to see you awake, kid.” Tony says, gently taking my hand in his.

“It’s good to see you guys too.” I squeeze his hand and look around at my friends. “How long was I out?” Suddenly everyone seems to be incapable of looking at me. “Come on, guys, I need an answer here.”

“A week.” Clint finally answers for the group. I stare at him, shocked. “And a half.”

“There were a lot of surgeries, (Y/N), you needed time to heal.” Steve says. “You still do.”

“Fine.” I shake my head in an attempt to clear it and try to reposition myself again. “How’s Bucky doing?”

“He’s, uh… Bucky’s not doin so hot right now.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “He really blames himself for what happened to you.”

“But it was my choice.” I furrow my brow. “Where is he? Maybe I could talk to him. We could get everything straightened out and-”

“(Y/N), Bucky isn’t here.” Natasha says.

“Then I can talk to him when I get released. Everything will be fine”

“No, (Y/N),” Steve cuts in. “He’s not here. He’s not in the country.”

“What do you mean?” Steve doesn’t answer. “Steve. What. Do. You. Mean.”

“Well, I said he left because he blamed himself for what happened to you.” Steve says hesitantly. “He’s in Wakanda.”

-6 weeks-

“Steve, I have to go see him.”

“(Y/N), you still need to heal. You can’t walk without a cane yet. You need more time.”

“Says you.” I mumble. “I can’t just stay here and hope he’ll come back. No one in Wakanda knows him and no one is going to be able to help him. He’s just stewing in his emotions and self hatred… he’s going to implode.”

“He’s safe there.”

“He was safe here.” I slam the end of my cane into the concrete floor. The sound echoes through the empty room.

“You can’t decide what’s best for him.” Steve’s voice is almost a growl.

“And you think you can?” I hiss. “Do you know what he said to me after I got shot? While he held me in his arms, hands pressed over my bullet wounds while I bled out?” I watch as Steve’s eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes as he tries to find his words. I don’t give him the time to find them. I advance on him, getting close enough for him to see the rage in my eyes. “He told me that he wasn’t important. He insisted that he wasn’t. He told me that I was more important than him and that he couldn’t lose me. He told me he loved me and that I wasn’t allowed to leave him.”

“I-”

“No, Steve. Do you know what happened after I got injured last time and he was taking care of me?” Steve shakes his head. “When he had nightmares, he came to me. He told me what happened and I held him until he fell asleep again. When I couldn’t sleep I went to him and he would let me curl into his chest and he would tell me about his day. We were there for each other. We took care of each other, and you have the audacity to tell me that I can’t decide what’s best for him? I thought you were his best friend.”

“I am.” He whispers.

“Then act like it.” I jab him in the chest with my finger. “I’m going to Wakanda. I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to try to bring him back, and I swear I will beat you half to death with this fucking cane if you even try to stop me.”

“Fine,” He sighs in resignation. “But I’m going with you.”

“Fine.” I turn away from him and limp off to my room. “Meet me in the hangar in half an hour.”

“You only need half an hour?” I can tell he’s got his arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked up without even turning around.

“Forty five minutes.” I huff.

“King T’Challa.” I dip my head in respect to the man on the video feed.

“(Y/N),” He mimics my actions, much to my surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I know I haven’t earned it, but I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows at me. “And what sort of favor would it be?”

“I’m, well, Steve and I are on our way to your country right now. I need to speak with Bucky, and the Captain has insisted he join me. I hope we aren’t intruding. I guess I should have called ahead of time and asked for permission to visit…”

“There is no need to worry over such trivial things, (Y/N),” He chuckles lightly. “You are welcome in my country at any time. What is it that you need of me?”

“Bucky can’t know I’m coming. I know how much he blames himself for me getting myself shot and I’m afraid he’ll leave before I even get the chance to see him.”

“You can count on me.” He nods. “What is your ETA?”

“We’re about three hours out.” Steve calls across the quinjet.

“Alright.” T'Challa says. “Preparations will be made and I will be awaiting your arrival.”

“Thank you so much.” I sigh quietly in relief, sitting back in my chair. “Again, I’m sorry to just be dropping in like this.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). I was starting to worry that no one had come for him. I think it will be good for him to see you.”

“I hope so.”

“I look forward to seeing the two of you again. Be safe in your travels.”

“Thank you, your highness, we’ll do our best.”

He nods and ends the call, leaving a blank and fuzzy screen in front of me. I flick it away and haul myself to my feet, leaning heavily on my cane for support. I walk in slow, methodical lines, pacing in the open space in the jet, trying to exercise my leg to the best of my ability. After a while I have to stop, the pain in my leg getting to be too much. I shift my weight to my left leg, taking a short sharp breath as a pang of pain shoots through my thigh.

“You really should sit down. Your entire body needs rest.” Steve comments.

“If I don’t keep moving I’ll lose all of the progress I’ve made.” I step forward with my right foot, hissing when I put weight on it. “Use it or lose it, Rogers.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “But don’t come whining to me when you make it worse.”

“Oh shut up, Mr. “I’m a super soldier and I heal faster than a speeding bullet”. Let me mess up my leg in peace.” Steve laughs at me, keeping his eyes glued to the open sky in front of him. I slowly make my way over to the front of the quinjet and rest my arm on the back of the pilot’s chair, leaning heavily on my left side.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Why didn’t you go after him?” I ask, my voice hushed.

“It wasn’t my fight.” He answers simply.

“That’s very un-Steve of you.” I lean forward and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Usually you’re ready to jump in and save the day, regardless of what’s happening.”

“Maybe I’m mellowing with age.” He shrugs, making my head bob up and down once.

“Mmm,” I hum. “Maybe.”

“(Y/N), Steve.” T’Challa says, turning to each of us respectively and dipping his head to us. “It is good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, your highness.” I dip my head to him in respect. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“As do I.” He nods. ”He’s down that corridor, take a left, go all the way down the hallway, take another left and then an immediate right. You should come to a room that is nearly all windows and you should find him in there.”

“Thank you.” I nod and walk past him, slowly making my way across the room and down the hallway.

“Do you think she’ll manage to bring him back?” Steve asks softly.

“He is here because he cares for her. She is here because she cares for him.” T’Challa answers. “She will find a way.”

With my hindered mobility it takes a while for me to get down the first hallway. I get tired easily and I have to pause every five or so minutes to rest before continuing on towards Bucky’s room. Unfortunately the pace at which I’m walking allows me time to overthink.

What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me for what I did. What if he’s angry with me for my actions? Maybe he’ll tell me he never wants to see me again. Maybe that’s why he left. Maybe that’s why he’s here. So he doesn’t have to look at me and feel guilty for what I did to myself.

No. I shake my head and shove those thoughts aside. I’m here right now and so is here. There’s no going back now, so I have to muster up whatever semblance of courage I can and push forward.

With my renewed determination I make it to the room where T’Challa said Bucky would be without having to stop. When I reach my destination I find that the door is open. I stand in the doorway, trying to find Bucky without actually entering the room. My eyes lock onto his form slumped on the white couch close to the wall of windows on the far side of the room. No part of him is moving and someone who didn’t know him would probably worry about him being dead. Instead I knock on the door with the handle of my cane. Bucky seems to almost jump off the couch, startled by the sharp noise. He slowly turns his head to investigate where the sound came from. I watch as his eyes widen when he catches sight of me.

“(Y/N),” He breathes. He stands abruptly, and a jacket that had been in his lap falls to the floor. He steps over it and crosses the room in long strides. He reaches out to me with shaking hands and gently cups my face. “(Y/N)…” He repeats.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” I smile at him, trying to blink away the tears that are forming in my eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“It has, I know.” His eyes flit over my features like he’s trying to memorize my face. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re here.” I carefully take his right hand in my left, running my thumb over the knuckles.

“(Y/N)…” He trails off, looking at the floor. He notices something and his eyes go wide. “You… you’re using a cane?”

“Oh, yeah. The bone was in less than optimal condition, thanks to me, so they had to reinforce it with pins and things. I don’t know exactly what’s going on in there, I just know I’m in one piece.” I hear him inhale sharply and I look up at him, concerned. “What?”

“If I had been paying attention none of this would have happened…” He pulls away from me, slowly backing into the room and turning around. He runs his hands through his hair before bringing his hands together at the back of his neck and lacing his fingers together. “You wouldn’t have gotten shot and you wouldn’t have lost so much time, you wouldn’t be walking with a cane and-”

“And, and, and,” I cut him off, slowly managing to follow after him. “There are a lot of things that could have happened, but none of them did, okay? I got myself shot, I had to have multiple surgeries, I’ve had to go through physical therapy and I’m pushing myself to recover. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s a part of my job to make reckless and stupid decisions if it means keeping someone alive.”

“Keeping me alive isn’t your job.”

“Oh? When was that decided? Huh?”

“(Y/N)…” He groans, still walking away from me.

“Bucky, please,”  I realize that I can’t keep following after him, so I hook the handle of my cane around his elbow. “Please, stop.”

“Why are you here?” He asks again.

“Do you remember the last thing I said to you after I got shot?” I unhook my cane from his arm and he turns around to face me.

“You told me you loved me.” He looks at the floor, silent for a time as if he’s thinking through what I said. He finally looks up at me and he almost looks sad. “Did you mean that?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me the night before that?”

“I… You heard that?”

“Yes. I told you that I loved you then too.” I wobble on my feet a little bit, just barely able to get my cane on the floor before I fall over. “I meant it both times, and I still do.” I stare at the floor, certain that I don’t want to watch his reaction. “I just need to know if you did. Because if you didn’t, I’ll leave right now.”

“I did, (Y/N), I did mean it.” He says quietly. I slowly look up at him, waiting for the ‘but’ that I know is going to follow. “But I can’t… I don’t deserve you”

“Bucky…”

“You know what I’ve done. You know how unstable I am.” He looks at me sadly. “You deserve someone who can give you what you need, and I can’t do that.”

“Why do you always do this?”

“What?”

“Talk yourself out of being happy or having something good in your life.” He furrows his brow and frowns at me. “I’ve watched you do it ever since Steve brought you to the tower. You finally relax and start to have a good time and then a switch flips in your brain and I watch you talk yourself down like you don’t deserve friends or to have a decent time at a party. Why-” My voice cracks and I have to take a deep breath before I can continue. “Why do you do that to yourself?”

“I don’t deserve good things and I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your help, I’m not worth it.”

“Bucky, if you didn’t deserve my help, I never would have offered.” I take a step towards him, trying to keep myself steady on my feet. “You spend all of your time knocking yourself down that you don’t recognize that there are people who love you, despite how you feel about yourself. You’re worth every second that I spend with you and nothing will ever convince me otherwise.”

“(Y/N), how can you be so sure that you won’t ch-”

“Bucky, will you please just-shit” I feel my right knee buckle and I take a knee to avoid crumbling completely. I try to haul myself back to my feet, but to no avail. I sigh loudly, frustrated by my body’s betrayal, and opt for staying where I am, glaring at the floor. When I look up again, I find that Bucky has crouched down beside me, looking over me, an intense look of worry on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his tone worried.

“It’s my leg.” I shake my head. “I’ve been standing around and walking. It takes a lot out of me. I’m fine.”

“No, (Y/N), you’re not. Why do you have to push yourself like this?” He scowls at me.

“Because no one makes me stop.” I laugh. “You were my voice of reason last time I got seriously hurt. Steve only fueled it because he said I could travel to see you when I could walk again.”

“Dammit, Steve…”

“It was me being irresponsible, not him.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Just gimme a sec, I’ll be back on my feet in a minute.”

“No,” He sighs. He gently slips an arm under my legs and wraps the other around my back and stands with me in his arms. “I’ll move you to the couch. You need to rest.”

“Okay.” I say quietly. I rest my head against his shoulder, silently wishing he could understand just how much I need him.

He slowly walks over to the pristine couch and pauses for a moment. I thought he would set me down on the couch and sit beside me, but instead he takes a seat and keeps me close to his chest. He doesn’t move or speak for a good five minutes and I finally begin to relax into his hold. My posture softens and my head lays more heavily on his shoulder. I almost didn’t realize how much I’ve missed being this close to him.

Bucky sighs quietly and shifts slightly so that he can rest his cheek on top of my head. I place a hand on his chest and angle my head so that I can look up at him. His eyes are trained on the window but his gaze is far away like it is when he’s talking himself down, but it’s different this time. He moves his arm from under my legs and brings it to rest around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have fought with you about any of this.” He shakes his head and pulls away to look at me. “I just need you more than you need me and I don’t want to be a burden for you.”

“Bucky, I need you just as much as you need me, if not more so.” I tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear before brushing my thumb over his cheekbone and trailing my fingers across his jaw. “You keep me from rushing through things and neglecting myself. It sucks not being with you. I’ve had one hell of a time trying to sleep without you.” I curl my hand into a fist and hold it to my chest. “That sounded way more selfish than I wanted it to.”

“Don’t worry.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. “It’s been the same for me. I freak out and then you’re not there. ”

“I’m here now.”

“I know.”

“Just come back with me.” I plead. “That would be enough.”

“What if I’m not enough, (Y/N)?”

“We could be enough, Buck. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

He looks at me tearfully, a smile fully forming on his lips. He cups my cheek with his metal hand, brushing his cold thumb over my cheekbone. He leans forward, pulling me to his chest to meet him and ghosts his lips over mine. When he receives no protest from me he presses his lips to mine more firmly. I kiss him back, gently covering his hand with my own. Bucky breaks away and presses his forehead against mine. He sighs quietly before moving me from his lap to the couch and walking away. I watch him, curious as to what he’s doing.

He leaves the room for a moment before poking his head back in.

“I’ll be right back.” He says before disappearing again.

I sit with my hands in my lap, staring at my cane where it lays on the floor. The only thing I feel when I look at it is frustration. The only thing it represents in the fact that I’m not well yet, despite how hard I’ve been pushing myself. Bucky worries about being enough for me, but what if I’m not enough for him?

The loud sound of a heavy duffel bag landing on the concrete floor pulls me from my thoughts. I look around, trying to find the source of the sound and finding Bucky holding his hand out to me. I place my hand in his and he helps me to my feet, stooping down to pick up my cane and handing it to me. Once I’m steadily standing on my own he grabs his duffel from the floor and joins me where I’m standing. I stare at him, not quite sure what to make of this.

“Does this mean you’re coming back?” I ask hopefully. He nods and I can’t hold myself back from surging forward and wrapping my arms around him in a massive hug.

“I figure you can’t kill yourself if I’m there to stop you.” He hugs me back and I can feel him smiling into my hair.

“What if I’m not enough for you?”

“You’re more than enough, (Y/N).” He whispers.

Bucky leads me back down the hallway to the entryway where Steve and I met T’Challa when we first arrived. Steve and T’Challa stand at the mouth of the corridor, seemingly waiting for Bucky and I to emerge.

“She did it.” Steve breathes, a gentle smile shaping his mouth when he sees Bucky and I walking down the hallway. “She actually did it.”

“I told you that she would find a way.” T’Challa says simply. “They love each other. They will always find a way.”

“You think so?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” I whisper, looking up at Bucky. “Always.”


Thank you so much for reading! Roo, I hope you have an amazing day! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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New AU idea: Punk Pevesnies.

Like, Susan is pastel punk. She’s got the pastel hair (half pink, half purple, inspired by her favorite singer Melanie Martinez) and cute tattoos like mermaid scales and hearts and unicorns and rose-covered skulls and dying fairies and so on and so forth. She has a crap ton of pirecings but, aside from her earlobes and cartilages, they’re in untaditional places, like her sternum and septum and the lining of her backbone and, fun fact, her first non-ear piercings were her dimple piercings (both on her cheeks and her lower back). Her fashion is basically punk (leather jackets, fish net stockings, combat boots, frayed jean vests, and ripped jeans) only she has them in florals and pastel colors and studded and some even a bit sparkly. Adults (specifically older women) look at Susan with pity because she’s obviously such a pretty girl but believe that she’s “wasting” her beauty on her “delinquent” style of clothing. She brushes the comments off and proceeds to flirt and drink and party with the cute boys and girls that can’t help being attracted to bad girls.

Lucy is that traditional rebellious punk with lots of piercings. She’s got a nose piercing, a lip piercing, several ear piercings, a bellybutton piercing, and dermal piercings. She’s got the beat up leather jackets and unkempt hair that probably hasn’t seen a brush in weeks and and lots of dark and thick makeup. She has tattoos that are dark quotes from authors like Joseph Conrad and Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Jonathan Swift and a lot of roses with thorns and even got her ribcage tattooed over the skin where her ribcage is located. She’s definitely that outspoken and rebellious punk that speaks out against authority and probably vandalizes buildings that spread anti-authority/anti-establishment messages and even shaved half her head out of spite when she was told that women didn’t look good with shaved heads. She’s that person that stands up on tables and shouts about her opinions and doesn’t care who hears or disagrees with her, she just wants her voice to be heard loud and clear.

Edmund is more of a pop punk, a lot of gel to make his hair spike up and he’s got the lip and brow piercings and his jeans are ripped and his flannel is beat up. He always has his ear buds in blasting out pop punk louder than should be appropriate. He doesn’t have any tattoos because he can’t withstand the pain of a needle digging into his skin for a long period of time but he has like a billion piercings in his face to compensate for the lack of tattoos. His hair tips are routinely dyed, spanning from red to green to blue to orange, anything that’ll stand out against his dyed-black hair. He most definitely wears eyeliner but he won’t admit it immediately. He’s not intimidating being lanky and tall but people avoid him because they’re afraid he’ll cause trouble. He’s not troublesome at all, though, as it’s all only a disguise to keep people far away from him.

Peter would be that more modernized rockabilly punk, the type that doesn’t seem like an outright delinquent but more of a dark and mysterious type. He’d have the typical, fitted leather jacket and dark long-sleeved shirts that were meant to cover up his arm-tattoo sleeves (people assumed it was so that he could hide the tattoos but really he just didn’t want the sun to discolor his ink). He doesn’t have piercings or dyed hair (his hair is actually nicely styled to look clean cut) or anything that necessarily identifies him as a punk but he has the attitude. He’s aloof and brooding and serious and closed off. He stands in the corners of parties and watches people grinding on each other and getting wasted, with a lit cigarette in hand and a bemused expression (he’s only there to watch over Susan and take her home when he believes she’s had too much to drink). It seems like he doesn’t enjoy most, if any, parties that he goes to and nobody knows what exactly is his scene but they know it’s probably not good. He’s that guy that has a cigarette in his mouth and his lips curling into a mysterious smile with eyes that scream danger.

The Pevensies are so punk rock, they just need the outfits to go with the attitudes.

Survival of the Fittest

Even in a post-apocalyptic world, the FW15 Sons of William collection is a must-have. Combat boots, bullet-proof vests, and waterproof hoodies put function and fashion on equal planes. Every item serves a serious purpose, including heavy duty hats and a backpack with solar power capabilities. 

See the entire collection for yourself on Milk Made

(Photo by Mitchell McLennan)

Omnipresent

Dying wasn’t so bad.

Actually that was a complete fucking lie. Dying was horrible. It turns out that when you explode, when you turn into gooey confetti, you can feel each part of yourself wink out as your nerves fizzle out. Oops, there go my fingernails, eyelashes, liver, heart. Brain.

But the thing about dying is, it’s a one-time deal. A few endless seconds and you never have to deal with it or be afraid of it ever again. But being dead, that’s the part that goes on. That’s the one that’s hard.

If there’s a heaven, if there’s a hell, Abbie never found it. Or maybe she did. Maybe getting to watch her loved ones was both her reward and her punishment.

She got to watch Jenny and Joe get married. Her sister wore combat boots and a vest, but wove flowers into their hair.

Their daughter had Joe’s eyes and Jenny’s big mouth and Abigail for a middle name.

She had to watch them all mourn, of course. The tears and the anger and the drinking too much. The visits to a grave with no body.

Joe took it hard. Jenny took it harder. But they were pragmatists. They knew the risks. And they knew that Abbie had known them. They never stopped missing her, but they learned how to live without her.

But Crane. He took it hardest. She knew he would, ever since he said that “don’t” that meant something else entirely. Something she wished he’d said long before, back when there was still time.

But he hadn’t and she hadn’t figured it out and now here they were, her three years dead and him still having conversations with the space where she should have been.

He couldn’t see her, of course. Didn’t really think she could hear him. He just needed to pretend, sometimes. Needed to say his part out loud so he could imagine what she would have said back. Imagine what it would have been like if they’d both been a little faster, a little braver.

Abbie yelled at him. He couldn’t hear her either, but it made her feel better. She told him to get over it, move on, call Zoe or call someone better or take up Sudoku or something but to get living again.

Sometimes he remembered that he had to keep going. That he had to keep fighting. Duty kept him plodding forward, getting out of bed in the morning. But grief drained so much of the curiosity and the spark from him.

She cheered every time he laughed. She took it as a personal victory every time he made a friend, conquered holding a regular job, forgot to talk to her for days at a time.

The more he forgot, the happier she was.

It took longer than she’d ever thought for him to join her. He lived out the seven years and then some. Twelve, to be exact, before he got sloppy and careless one night against a wraith and paid the price.

If she’d have had, you know, a body, it never would have happened.

But one minute there he was, writhing on the ground with a sucking chest wound. And the next he was beside her. Beautiful and young as the day when she’d last seen him with actual eyes.

She’d thought about what she’d say a thousand times. Sometimes in her head, their reunion was mushy, with tears and whispered words and tender embraces. Sometimes it was passionate, hard, demanding.

But seeing him there, seeing him how he used to be, the words just blurted out.

“Dumb move, letting your guard down like that. You never did remember to keep your off-hand up.”

“It was considerably less important when fighting an ill-trained infantryman from the arse-end of Cornwall than when fighting an undead abomination,” he snapped back just as quickly.

She laughed first. Then he did.

And then there was time for all the things they never said and never did and never shared.

u know those posts where it’s like “i wanna wear leather jackets and red lipstick and break boy’s hearts but i also wanna wear flower crowns and drink starbucks but i also wanna wear sweats and eat pizza and play video games and watch netflix all day” i used to feel that way and i was v confused and unhappy bc i thought i had to choose. then i realized, holy fuckin shit, i can be and do whatever i want, whenever i want, and so i did and have ever since. like this morning i smeared on eyeliner and wore a rock t shirt and a denim vest and combat boots and when i got home i took it off and put on a giant sweater and went to the store for some coffee with ed sheeren on the radio. like. don’t let anyone tell you that u have to be one thing, all the time. i let myself be whatever i am and have been extremely happy with my self image ever since 10/10 would recommend. 

Cultural Allusions

Words: 1,552
Notes: I claim no credit for this joke. I got it from this post, although it’s appeared in several other places since; the next logical step was to just run with it, since that’s in all probability what Natasha would do. 

Also, the concept was irresistible and I am weak. 

My most sincere apologies, and I hope I’m not overstepping when I assume you’re all familiar with “Shrek.” 

In May of 2001, Robert Bruce Banner (no aliases yet, although he prefers to go by his middle name) is thirty-one years old. He will turn thirty-two in December. His life centers around the study of anti-electron collision and its production of gamma ray photons, protein-lesion yields and viability in irradiated cells, an 8-bit TTL computer he’s been putting together from scrap, and a woman named Elizabeth Ross whom he has earnest hopes of marrying.

In May of 2001, Natalia Alianovna Romanova (alias “Natasha Romanoff,” alias “Black Widow,” alias “Whatever the Plot Requires”) is sixteen years old. She might turn seventeen in November. Her life centers around the sound of her own heartbeat inside her ears, the feeling of her own hands and arms as she washes off other people’s blood, the sight of a newly-made scar that runs horizontal across her lower abdomen, and the general idea of not getting herself killed. This shapes up to be a rather all-consuming avocation.

So neither party, understandably enough, is paying much attention to the activity of DreamWorks Studios, or a certain movie it promotes and releases that particular month.

(Bruce may vaguely note a period of several weeks during which he cannot turn around in the supermarket without seeing a green-faced creature – what was on its head, suction cups? – decorating the front of every cereal box and cookie package, but the image leaves no lasting impression. 

Natalia-Natasha-Black Widow, meanwhile, does not go to the cinemas. She already spends enough time sitting by herself in the dark, waiting for things to happen. Why give away her money for more of the same?)

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