548 posts
Star-struck-universe - Oh, Would You Look There. - Tumblr Blog
ME
I couldn’t fit them all, okay?!
I love how despite not being a bender, Sokka is the biggest embodiment of everything the Water Tribe values in the show, both good and bad.
Change. Sokka who humbled himself when the Kyoshi warriors proved him wrong and took their teachings to heart. Sokka who always had a plan, a few hundred backup plans, and could still get out of a sticky situation on the fly. Sokka whose friends became bored and aimless without his quick wit and initiative.
Kindness. Sokka who went to save Aang before Katara even had to ask him to. Sokka who saw the humanity in an old man from the fire nation. Sokka who gave Jet a second chance despite being the first one to be suspicious of him. Sokka who showed Zuko to his room and held no resentment against him. Sokka who shielded Toph from falling debris with his body.
Ingenuity. Sokka who invented airships and submarines. Sokka who took down the drill. Sokka who broke into a Fire Nation prison rig and out of the highest security prison in the country. Sokka who levelled Ozai’s entire sky fleet in one tactical manoeuvre.
Love. Sokka who couldn’t remember his mother’s face but carries the grief of her death so deeply that he protects every woman he meets with the same unhealthy hypervigilance. Sokka who instinctually jumps to defend his sister despite their constant bickering.
Community. Sokka who gave up his childhood to become the sole protector of his village and dedicated his time to training the younger boys in combat. Sokka who learned to let go of his hypervigilance and put his trust in the people he’a afraid of losing so they can protect him like he protects them. Sokka who stood alone guarding the gates of his home as Zuko’s ship towered over them.
Damn okay. Amazing
TAKE IT OR LEAVE HIM ᡣ𐭩
pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader
synopsis: Ghost forgets your birthday
tag: slight slight angst
Hectic doesn’t begin to describe Ghost’s schedule, yet you accepted him with open arms. He needs to cut your dinner short because he’s needed back at the base? You nod with a smile full of understanding. He forgets a few chores and groceries because he’s piled up with tasks? You kiss his forehead and tell him it’s fine, and you just work around it and rush during your office breaks to do those tasks on your own. You’re exhausted from being held back at the office because the client changed their mind during the finalization, but you come home to a pile of dirty dishes and no dinner? You say you understand, washing up and going to bed while feeling your stomach grumble and waking up to wash the previous night’s dishes just to lessen Ghost’s worries.
You had no problem bending backwards just to accommodate him. You entered the relationship knowing about his schedule, so… were you really in any position to complain?
A few insignificant tasks and miniscule adjustments to your schedule were nothing; never once uttered a complaint because you understood. Why? Because Ghost always finds a way to make it up to you. Sending bouquets when you close a big deal, treating you to a fancy restaurant during your birthday (though he’s mostly never there to celebrate until the end), and gifting you branded things during your anniversaries… so, it was all okay….. ?
Yes, it’s fine if he never shows up for your dinner date because of work.
Yes, it’s fine that you spend most nights alone.
Yes, you can clean the house, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and cook for the both of you.
It was all okay. You were okay with it. You accepted it. You understood. You can do it. You’re fine. It’s all worth it. It’s not worth any trouble. It’s fine—
You snap back and all thoughts stop rushing into your head. Your phone blares an alarm with the words, ‘DATE NIGHT’, flashing on the screen. Right, it’s your birthday and Ghost promised he’d finally make it this time. So, you wore the prettiest dress, applied the most gorgeous (and time-consuming) makeup, and put on the cutest heels (your feet are getting blisters) because you wanted to spend this night with the man you love most on your Earth… who wasn’t by your side right now, but it’s fine.
The waiter approaches the table, asking you for what seems to be the 6th time that night if your company is coming because they’re about to close. Giving up, you offer an apologetic smile and gather your things. The walk out the restaurant was embarrassing to say the least. Harsh winter air greets your face, your legs and arms trembling as you try to seek warmth from the take-out bag. You didn’t bring a jacket because, well, you thought Ghost would be there with you, but it’s fine.
The apartment door clicks open and a dark hallway awaits you. ‘Ah, he’s not here yet,’ you think to yourself, a pang of disappointment piercing your heart that raised its hope for one night. With a wince and a pained gasp, your heels come undone. Muted footsteps along the wooden floorboards as you strip out your clothes and wash up. You resign the night with your lover nowhere to be found— once again, but it’s fine.
Morning dawn cracks through your curtains with a familiar arm around your waist and familiar dip on the mattress. You blink your sleepiness away, taking in every detail of your Simon’s face in the morning. Like he has a third sense, he wakes and stares back at you. First smiles of the day are shared between you two but you expected more. Nothing too grand. Maybe an apology and a greeting? Yet the day goes by with receiving neither, but it’s fine. Maybe the next day’s the charm?
Nothing.
Irritation towards your lover is a rare occurrence with your endless patience and never-ending understanding of his situation. You still held hopes that maybe he’d finally realize his slip-up, but what did you come home to? Dirty dishes. A pile of them.
“Ah, sweetheart. You’re home,” he kisses your cheek and presses your waist close to him like usual. The scent of whiskey and cigar lingers on his clothes— a scent you usually adore but now only fuels your anger. “Si, what’s this?” you ask, trying to keep your frustration at bay as you point to the sink. “What? Oh, noticed ‘ya didn’t make dinner so I ate what’s ever left,” he answers cooly like there’s nothing wrong.
“... do you mean you ate my lunch for tomorrow?”
“That yours? Sorry, baby. ‘Ya can jus’ make another one, and one for me.”
You pull away, slapping his face with tears rushing down your face. Ghost looks at you with shock and confusion which angers you further. How can he not realize why you’re mad?
“Woah, woah. What’s wrong, doll?”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT. Oh, my fucking God, Simon. You’re really asking me that?” you run your fingers through your hair, screaming at his face and throwing your purse at him. “What’s wrong?? You tell me! I slave away at this goddamn house. I go to bed with my bones feeling like weights because I keep cleaning after your mess, but it’s fine! Because you were busy, I understood.”
Tension builds in the air as everything you’ve held back poured out of you. “I never complained because I told you I was fine with your schedule when we first started dating. I fucking bend my body backwards and did everything for you LIKE A MAID. And you have the audacity to ask me what’s wrong? You don’t even ask me how my day went. Asking me to cook for you like I’m just a housekeeper? YOU DON’T EVEN DO ANYTHING FOR ME.” You stomp over to his face, glaring with hatred as you spat out your next words. “Just a fucking reminder that I am your girlfriend. I am not here to clean up after you.”
“Did I ask you to?” he snaps back, returning the same vile stare. “You’re whining about working around the house like I asked you to. Let’s be clear that I never forced you to do these shits around the house.”
“You didn’t have to! You just kept piling up dishes and clothes, leaving a messy trail behind you because you know you expect me to do it for you!”
“And did those come for free? I buy you everything you want on anniversaries and birthdays. You act as if you come for cheap,” he scoffs.
"WELL, GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING FORGOT IT THIS YEAR,” you finally confess through sobs. Realization dawns upon your lover, evident on the way his face drops. He tries to approach you but you step back.
“I waited for you like a fool because you promised. I-.. I.. had to tell the waiter 5 times that you were coming because they were on the verge of throwing me out. Did you know how embarrassing it was for me? I… I know I shouldn’t have kept my hopes up but I wanted to believe in you, but.. I’m tired.”
Silence blankets you both as every emotion rushes through your heart. Your throat felt raw and your head was getting heavy from all the crying.
“I’m done, Ghost. I’m tired," you whisper. Those words were simple but Ghost knew what lies underneath. You weren't tired of what you did for him. You were tired of him.
꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: woah, angst again? Anyone surprised? This request has been sitting on my inbox for a while but I have enough free time to answer them, so here we are. I will make a König version if this gets attention. 📩
dividers by @cafekitsune
Please reblog!! Ask is open
check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!
I don’t know what I expect. But this was better than what I expected.
the warm spot at the bottom of the stairs
Pairing: Ghost!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader CW: Fluff, Mild Angst, Soulmate AU, reader has dreams, mentions of sex/masturbation, mentions of death, cursing, reader feels like she knows him but they've never met, let me know if I missed anything please! Summary: After inheriting your grandfather's estate, you fall in love with the man from your dreams. He just so happens to be in your house, too. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described aside from the fact that she has hips, a stomach, and legs on her body. WC: 9,159 (this is what happens when you let a man cook) This is genuinely my baby. My magnum opus. I don't think it goes up from here. I love soulmate aus with all my heart and soul and also love the dynamic of falling in love with a ghost. Enjoy this please, I tried <3
You swore the heat radiating off the sidewalk was enough to melt the soles of your shoes down to liquid. The sun was unforgivably angry today, glaring down at the world like it had a score to settle. You were less than thankful, as the death of your grandfather had stolen any desire you once held for warmth. The brutal dichotomy of the cold pit sitting in your stomach and the burning heat of the day only added to the sour taste in your mouth.
This house was fucking huge.
You had no idea how your grandfather managed to hide such an enormous investment from everyone in his life but he’d managed the task seamlessly. Nobody even knew what he was giving you at first. The reading of the will and testimony left nothing but confused relatives until they had found the address that marked the estate. Some were jealous of you, some were confused, some even asked if they could come live with you once you got settled in. You had been absolutely floored when you learned he’d given you a house. Being fresh out of university, you were moving on to grad school while simultaneously preparing yourself to live with your mother until you could afford anything besides student debt payments.
Now though, you had a castle, with no clue why a house this big was given to you of all people. You were your grandpa’s only grandchild and were by far one of the least deserving of such a generosity. Sure, you were close, but never abnormally close. You talked once a week on the phone and were glued to his side at family gatherings - but he saw your aunt everyday, and spoke with your mother much more than he ever did you. Was it pity? Maybe he saw this as the only plausible way of you escaping the fate of leeching off your mother. Hopefully he didn’t think of you so lowly.
You mentally cursed at the dull ache in your legs that persisted even after stretching. You had been driving all day with a car packed full of stuff that needed to be hauled into the house, and only yourself to move said stuff. You said a short plea in your head to not let the pain hinder your speed and began walking into the house to view the inside. The estate was isolated, huge fences of greenery surrounded the place, adding to the pleasant sight of budding flowers throughout the front yard. Even without the towering hedges, though, the nearest neighbor was miles away. Great, you thought. Any concerns of your car being robbed while you were gone were extinguished as quick as they came, but you locked the car regardless. Force of habit.
The heat was only lessened slightly when you reached the interior. You made a mental note to get the A.C. turned on, no way a temperature like this was a liveable one. You’re sure the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. They were excessive. Beautiful - of course - and you were thrilled at the amount of light they let in, but you could basically see the heatwaves permeating through the stained glass. Your eyes caught on the odd choice. The slightly colored glass making the mansion feel mildly like a church, the thought coming to you quickly and stripping any of the minimal comfort you held moments prior. That’s weird, you thought. Your grandpa had never been particularly religious. He was a man of faith - said grace before dinner and thanked Jesus for every day he lived, but never to this extent. He was rather progressive for a man his age.
The kitchen could have easily fit a team of 12 and you wondered if there had been staff at one point. There was no sign of any employees, and you prayed there weren’t any left working. The last thing you wanted was more responsibility in your life. You took your time walking the house, marveling at every painting and polished chandelier that was now an asset of yours. The house was gorgeous, you’d give at least that much to the old man. The centerpiece, of course, was the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor. As large as the house was, it held only two stories. Getting it’s square footage from length, rather than width. It was equally as glamorous as the house it resided in, however it filled you with a certain devastation you couldn’t place. As though your most primal self rejected the idea of it. That’s silly, you thought. You wanted to go upstairs, you were definitely not avoiding half of your house because a couple of your neck hairs stood at attention. The only real peculiarity was the heat pooling at the very bottom of the staircase. The kind of heat that seemed to thread itself into you, intertwine itself with your very being. The rest of the house was cold and accusatory, if your grandfather ever did live here, any of his warmth was flushed out by his death. This was the only spot in the whole house you felt calm, cared for. You could bask in it, weirdly fascinated with the little pocket of humanity that sat there.
It was more difficult than you’d expected to pull yourself out of it, and you could have sworn you felt arms trying to pull you back in. Ten minutes into your new life and you were already on edge. Negative feelings didn’t seem to penetrate the spot at the bottom of the stairs, so you physically felt the wave of unease when it struck you upon exiting. The upstairs was creepy. The abundance of windows was apparently only a trend on the first floor, as the second floor held dark, dim hallways. The whole thing, it seemed, was lit up by ancient lamps that lined the walls. It reminded you of the Shining, and you wondered briefly if maybe your mother would let you move back in. There was a bedroom right near the staircase, and you decided it would be yours. It could have been the smallest one for all you knew, the only thing you cared about was a quick escape if such a thing was needed. Something about the house put thoughts like that at the front of your mind.
You don’t recall ever being a paranoid person, nor a believer in the supernatural, but this house was watching you. The feeling of eyes on you was simply too strong to write off. What a warm welcome.
—
It had been a week, but the nights so far had been sleepless ones. The people you called on day one were just now getting around to starting the A.C. so you were hoping for a decent rest tonight. The fridge was stocked, your things mainly unpacked, and the house started feeling a little more like you with each day. Although, your friends were more or less convinced there was a ghost living with you. You spoke of the feelings you had, plus the fact it was an old and mildly creepy house, and they were off and running with theories. One of the tamer ones consisted of the house being an old church - given the windows - and that the eyes you were feeling were perhaps an old priest who died here. You were less than fond of that idea, but you would take it any day to the other propositions of old mental hospitals and certain death. You made a mental note to never again let your friends speculate on situations you couldn’t get out of.
You argued that a malevolent spirit wouldn’t invoke such a comforting sense within you. You felt watched - yes - but it wasn’t as though you felt stalked. It was much worse, actually, you felt lonely. Loneliness was never a battle you fought very hard in. You had hobbies, and you had friends. The desire for a romantic companion usually took the back burner if it was even a thought at all. People questioned the topic - you were pretty, smart, capable - what more could somebody want? They asked if you were insecure, if you liked girls, told you that you were wasting your “prime years” and needed to find someone - but it was never that simple. You just didn’t get it. The feelings others spoke of were unfamiliar ones to you. You held your breath for a long time before realizing that it probably just wasn’t for you, that you were built a little differently.
Needless to say, you were uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. It felt like seeing the moon in a glass jar - something unfathomably beautiful but something you were unable to hold. Lord knows it wasn’t from a lack of desire, though. You’re sure you reeked of longing, able to suppress the lot of it but unable to stop some from slipping through the cracks of your fingers. And with no obvious direction to cast it, it just clung to you and seeped back into your skin.
–
“No, dude, I’m telling you shit’s fucking weird.” You shoveled popcorn into your mouth as you spoke with your friend. This was the third call since you moved in. “Every night I wake up at like two in the morning and just for a split second I feel it. It’s like I'm lying on someone’s shoulder or something. And - oh my god - the amount of times I get stuck in that fucking warm spot on the stairs is gonna drive me crazy.”
You could hear her laughing at your frustration on the other end. “What do you mean you get stuck? Y/n I'm getting worried about your mental state.”
“No I’m telling you, I walk in this one - like - warm spot and I enter some kind of trance. Like I want to leave but I can’t - Jesus!”
“Are you alright?” Your friend was quick to ask, hearing you cut yourself off mid sentence.
“No! This shit is haunted I swear. My kitchen lights just turned on for no reason. If I die here I’m blaming you and Kelly for not getting me out.” You were being dramatic, you knew that, but it was starting to feel justified. You don’t remember a time in the last week you felt truly by yourself.
“Hey don’t blame us for your own choi-” She started speaking, but you lost her.
“Hello? You there?” You tried calling her again but the usual buzz of the dial tone was dead silent, the lamps that were illuminating the house followed soon after. Phone lines were the first to go in a power outing. No fucking way the power just went out. You felt around in the dark for the drawer of the end table. There had been a flashlight on the counter when you’d first arrived. You threw it in the end table because you had no clue why it was there - you were thanking God you’d done so while also praying the thing had batteries in it. You wrapped your hand around the object and said one more plea to the stars you wouldn’t have to be without light until tomorrow. Somebody must have been listening, as the room lit up when you hit the ‘on’ switch of the flashlight.
You’d seen the fuse box towards the south end of the upstairs hallway, sitting between a Da Vinci replica and a mirror taken straight from a movie star's wet dream. I’m gonna die was the only thing you could think at a moment like this. You were for sure going to see glowing red eyes at the end of the hall and die a horrific and bloody death. Thanks grandpa. The warm spot was a welcome refuge from your journey to certain death, and you embraced the sense of peace it brought you at a time when your heart was surely beating too fast. You held the light in front of you as you ventured up the stairs. The top of them seemed cartoonishly haunting, you thought momentarily that you would fit perfectly into a Scooby Doo episode. It was vast and dark, having multiple pathways you could walk down, but you set your sights on the south hall and did your best to disable your peripheral vision. It was right there. You just had to reset the power and you’d have your precious light back. Who puts a fucking mirror above a fuse box?
You held the flashlight between your teeth as you focused on your task. Open and reset. Open and reset. It was truly as simple as that and then you could be done. Go watch a midnight rerun on TV and pray that the spirits would leave you alone. Open and reset. The switches were flipped off - you didn’t think that was normal but what did you know - so you flipped them back on and heard the hum of life returning to the house. Thank God. Your nerves dissipated almost immediately. You were alright, no ghost had it out for you. It’s an old house, and would probably experience things like this a lot. You could do that again if you had to. You looked up, though, and ate your words. There was definitely a man behind you. If you had been trying to look at him, you would have seen he was young, tall. You probably would have thought he was attractive, but you had no time for that. You whirled around, yelping at the sight of him and mentally preparing to defend your life. It proved futile though, he was gone as quickly as he came. There was nowhere he could have gone that fast, so as much as you were certain he was there, you settled for him being imaginary. It was dark upstairs, and you were scared out of your mind. Surely your eyes were overcompensating for the paranoia that was racing through you. You walked back to the couch on guard and decided to call your friend back tomorrow. It was nearly twelve, and you knew she had work tomorrow. You could cope using TV and proper lighting to comfort you until sunrise. What’s one more sleepless night?
“You boys let me know if you need anything.” You heard the words in your own voice as if listening to a stranger.
“Sure thing, doll.” All the men were in uniform. Gray fabric covered their bodies, adorned with hats of the same color. Soldiers.
You walked back behind the front counter as the bell above the door continuously chimed at the arrival of new guests. Orders were being shouted to the cooks. You stared at the bold letters painted on the large graffiti piece decorating the wall, “Cathy’s Cooking.” A greasy apron covered the light blue dress beneath it - waitress attire. The smell of fried eggs clashed hard with the scent of sanitizer you were using to wipe down the counter. Bells rang to signal orders were ready to be taken out to guests, and you discarded the rag you used to mop up spilled coffee.
“Thanks, Benny.” You nodded to the chef as you took the food plates to table two. He nodded back at you before returning to flipping bacon.
“L/N!” Your manager barked at you. “Take your break. Be back in thirty.” He was a friendly man, though he got a bit hostile under pressure.
You couldn’t be more thankful for the break. It was hour 6 of your shift and you were beginning to think he might never let you off. You removed the apron as quick as possible and excused yourself out the back entrance to cool off in the alley way. It got hot as hell during rush hour, so the way the slight breeze nipped your cheeks felt like heaven.
“Tough shift?”
“Jesus!”
He started laughing as you startled, turning to face him. “‘Fraid it’s just me, honey.” He walked towards you as you grinned at him.
“You scared me, Spence.”
He shook his head, mocking you. “I’m so sorry.” Drama queen. “How ever will I make it up to you?”
You giggled at that, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he got closer. He put his hands on your hips, leaning you against the brick wall of the alley. You could feel your lungs open up when he kissed you, always feeling like you could breathe better when his lips were on yours. He was your God given destresser. He still donned his uniform but had opted for taking the hat off, he knew you hated when his hair was hidden.
“That’s not very nice, Reid. I thought you were a gentleman. What would your boys think of you being so mean to a lady?”
He smiled a bit at that. “You like when I’m a little mean, Y/N.”
Fuck. He had you there.
You looked to the side for a second to snuff out some of the tension. “How long are you here for?”
“We’re in town for two weeks. Gotta catch a boat up to base 14 on the 20th. Supposedly they’re preparing for a big fight.”
You frowned as you made eye contact with him.“I get so worried about you. About all of you. I don’t know what I’d do if - you know if something happened.” He’d been a soldier for a little while now, joining when he turned 18. He’d kept his hands on your hips, and you started to run your hands through his hair, a nervous habit you picked up when the two of you first got together.
“I know, honey. But by the time it’s done I’ll be off my leash. I do this and we can run away together.”
You looked at him the way you always did - with such admiration and love that he often had to look away before it went to his head. He swore he looked at you the same, but you knew deep down nobody could love anyone as much as you loved him. You laughed a bit at the elation you got from just his presence.
“I got lucky with you, Reid.”
He just shook his head. “Give yourself more credit, L/n.”
Your consciousness hit you like a truck and you realized before long that sun was shining through the windows. You’d fallen asleep sometime between ultimate terror and fleeting hope of your survival. And that dream - dear lord what the fuck was that dream. It was more vivid than you thought possible. You always forget most of your dreams when you wake up, but this time it felt like forgetting would be a betrayal. You could recall word for word every single thing about that dream. It was as though you saw a movie of your own life. A feeling so familiar you could taste it but just far enough to escape your grasp - and boy were you reaching. Not to mention the man. You didn’t know if this was some sort of coping mechanism you were inventing in your head but that was definitely the same man from the mirror last night. An imaginary friend. You had an imaginary friend as a grown woman. Terrific.
–
“You’re never going to attract a suiter with such a tragic expression, my dear.” This had to be the third time your mother had roused this point in the past hour.
“These dances are dreadful, idiotic nights of captivity that do nothing but mock the existence of genuine companionship.” The irony of you saying this while patting your cheeks with rose pigment was not lost on you. “Let me scrub myself raw and willingly restrain myself in hopes a man will see me and fall in love.” You spat out the last word with enough vitriol to hopefully drown yourself in. “Maybe he’ll like me so much he’ll lay claim and I can live on to be his housewife and half a person. How I've always dreamed of letting a man decide how much value I have.” You were flustered by the end of your spiel, looking at your mother through the large vanity with the tentative hope of a child asking for sweets.
“You read too much, darling. Those little romance books of yours are nothing but nonsense.” She was a professional at writing you off by now. “You know plenty of women who are perfectly satisfied with their lives. This is how we do things, Y/n. I don’t understand why you insist on fighting it so intently.”
She was never truly angry at your defiance, only tired. You could never tell if she was tired of you complaining or if she, like you, was tired of living this way. Your mother had married young - even for the times - and you knew your father left much to be desired in her life. They were basically repulsed by each other, only joining in union to produce a child. Your mother had been thrilled to have a daughter. Your father would trade you if he could, but he made do. The ultimate lack of affection between the two of them made you ill. You weren’t much older than your mother had been, you could very well end up trapped and child-bound in a loveless marriage.
“I would rather die alone than end up with my father.” You spoke, she sighed.
“I know.”
You stared at her through the mirror for a moment longer, then you rose from your chair. Your makeup was done, your look now complete. You noticed your mother’s eyes start to well up at the sight of you and she started to walk closer.
“My beautiful girl.” She smiled, forbidding the tears to venture down her cheeks, and held your shoulders. “You deserve a man who will worship you. Your future husband will be the luckiest man on planet Earth.” A gentle prompt, but a prompt nonetheless. You knew she loved you, but she carried more shame as you got older. Having only a daughter was something frowned upon, but having only a daughter hellbent on avoiding marriage was something that weighed on her.
“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Then she was gone, kissing your cheek and taking her exit to go talk with the director of the communal ride. Carriage was being generous, it was more like a one-way wagon to the local suiter’s ball. You watched her leave with a sense of grief so intense it nearly toppled you. She deserved a man like that too.
-
This was your third ball of the month. The pool of potential partners diminished with each one. People would often take whatever they could get, meaning less and less people even needed these nights anymore. You walked in with your mother, hand resting gently in the crook of her extended elbow. Your father stopped attending with the two of you a while ago. You believed he’d given up hope of a man ever choosing you - Lord knows he wouldn’t. Scanning the crowd, you saw little to look forward to. The music was pleasant, you would dance with a couple men who seemed bearable at best and criminal at worst, indulge in some of the enticing pastries and teas, and then you would leave. Back home until your mother dragged you out the following week for another one. With your current rate, you assumed you would end up marrying the vagabond that perused your neighboring streets. Taking another look around, you thought you might prefer that.
You made your temporary home in a corner chair, letting your mother excitedly drag prospects up to you and watch dejectedly as they ruled you out as an option. You felt bad for her, considered caving in and finding a man to give you a child, but you remember swiftly how long the years take to pass when you’re miserable. The chair gave you a good view of the room, you could see the entrance and the dancefloor filled with enticing women waiting for men to notice them. You could feel the sweat start slicking your skin beneath the corset you wore. It was too hot in here.
If you hadn’t been so determined to ignore the occasional advances of bored men, you would have missed the small group entering the area. Two women and two men, you wondered briefly if it was two couples, but discarded that thought. This wasn’t a place for couples. You felt your heart physically lurch at the sight of the last man in the row of four, as though your heart was running to greet an old friend. Had you seen him before? Surely you would have remembered such a visceral reaction. You averted your eyes before he could notice you. You don’t remember ever wanting to be noticed by a man - especially not this badly. You allowed yourself the escape of your own thoughts, getting lost in your head to pass the time and focus on anything other than what was probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
You looked up, he was standing above you. The chair next to you had been taken all night, the same woman had been sulking in her seat, and you found comfort in the fact someone else was unhappy to be here. She was gone now. Someone was definitely messing with you.
“Not at all.”
Your mouth was drier than it had ever been. You wondered if your lips remained stained from the color you applied earlier. You’d done nothing but sit all night and yet you were praying nothing had happened to your makeup.
“Why are you alone in a corner?”
“Men tend to be repulsed by my pessimism. I also happen to hate it here. Serves for a less than desirable combination.” You refused to let your sudden attraction diminish your stubbornness. You hated the self-consciousness racing through you, no man had the right to take your assurance in yourself.
“Why do you hate it here?” He wasn’t being mocking. He seemed - genuinely - a little sad at the thought of you being unhappy.
“Well, sir, I am of the belief that these dances are nothing but congregations of people settling for lives that won’t make them happy. They trade excitement for safety as though the presence of security has to mean the presence of misery. I don’t think anyone can know the true meaning of love in our current state as a society.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke, instead staring out at the people dancing. “I hold no desire to settle. I am capable of making happiness on my own. Most men don’t like the thought of me not needing them.”
You were almost positive you lost him. You were betting on him not being there when you looked, preparing yourself to bite the bullet and cope with tonight’s losses. Maybe your mother would agree to leave early.
You heard him chuckle softly. “Sir.” He repeated your words, finding humor in the formality. “My name’s Spencer.” He added. “And I also happen to hate the purpose of these events. I’ve never actually been to one before, but I’m new to the city, and something about tonight was begging me to come out.”
You were absolutely bewitched by him. “I’m Y/n.”
“Fitting.” He smiled, a smile directed at his own thoughts, as though something in his mind had clicked. “Will you dance with me?”
The music had slowed severely. You scoffed at his proposal, but you were taking his hand as if you’d been waiting on this. Maybe you had been. You were grateful for the ballad that was playing, never having been one for upbeat dancing. He led you gracefully, and for once you felt yourself relinquish power. With a mind like yours, a man’s company was almost never wanted. With this one, though, you laid your heart at his feet as if you’d done so a dozen times before. The heat of his hands was seeping through your dress, and his eyes were locked with yours.
“I feel like I know you.” A confession. He had an effect like that.
“Maybe you do.”
–
Two in the morning. Everyday you’d woken up at two in the morning from a different dream involving the mysterious ‘Spencer Reid’. You friends had kindly dubbed him the “Man of your dreams” following the stories you told them. You’d been a housewife, trying to welcome him home from work before he laid you down and made an altar of your dining table.You’d been the daughter of a king, at one point, falling in love with his favored knight. Shamefully, that one haunted you. Reappearing in your mind during intimate times when you needed a spark. You’d never been one for desire either. When your friends started preaching the wonders of sex to you during your highschool days, you felt no pull towards the act. Just another it you didn’t understand. Now, though, this house served as an aphrodisiac. You lost count of your streak by day 13, and were now just begging whoever put this apparition in your home for the strength to keep your hand out of your pants.
Spencer had become more like a roommate rather than an unwanted guest. You saw him in most reflective surfaces around the house. You felt him everywhere. He sat at the table with you, watched TV with you, he would wait by the door when you got home from work. Sometimes, your hand or your shoulder would run hot. Physically hot, like he was putting his hands on you. You wondered if he was around during those times, but if he was there he made sure you didn’t know it. You were gaining a sort of intuition for him. The thought Spencer would like that struck you numerous times when you were window shopping or when you tried on an outfit. You were starting to think maybe you were just crazy. Perhaps a ghost who seemed to be your soulmate and made you incredibly horny was how all psychotic breaks started.
Weirdly, through your bizarre dreams and inconsistent sleeping patterns, this was the most well rested you’d felt in a while. Waking up at two am was routine now, sometimes you managed to fall back asleep afterwards but most times you were up dwelling on the images your mind had shown you that night. You thought maybe your body was just adjusting - surely it was nothing supernatural giving you energy - just the adaptivity of the human brain. One persistent thing you couldn’t adapt to, though, was how much you missed him. The increasing number of times you woke up to being the only occupant of your bed was starting to wear you down. You feel like you’d spent lifetimes with this man and yet he was someone you never knew. You'd seen the two of you fall in love countless different ways except the one that actually counted - the present.
“I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another phone call, another conversation about your rapidly declining mental state. “I have fallen in love with a figment of my own imagination. Surely this is some demented form of narcissism.”
“I don’t think it works like that, Y/n.” Your friend was terrible at comforting people. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been fully honest with her about the severity of your situation. From where she was standing, you had learned to lucid dream and now that was bleeding mildly into your real life. Not the biggest deal, maybe you were just lonely.
“It’s a ghost, dude, I’m fucking telling you. There’s no way I’m imaginative enough to conjure all this shit up.”
“You know his name right? Go down to the library and look him up. If he’s a ghost then surely there’ll be something to find.”
Holy shit. She was a genius. “Oh my God you’re so smart. I love you. You just saved my life. You’re God’s gift to the planet. Who would I be witho-”
“Jesus Christ will you just go? Stop kissing my ass and start driving. I want details when you get back.”
You don’t know if you’ve ever been so eager to get to the library of all places. If you could snag a computer spot then you could put an end to all of this. He wasn’t real, realistically you knew that, but you had a fool-proof way to check. If he was real you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you could see dead people. Well, a dead person. You had never seen any before Spencer. You’d never seen Spencer either, not before the house at least. They say you can’t make up faces, that if you see someone in a dream then you’ve seen them in real life but you were incredibly doubtful of that by now.
Spencer Reid. Thankfully the man didn’t have a particularly common name. You hoped there would be limited matches, less to look through. Pretty soon you could accept your own mental insanity and maybe ask your mother to spot you for some therapy. Well, moment of truth. You watched each letter be typed in with baited breath until his full name was in the search bar. Even just looking at his name brought that sense of calm. You were hopeless. Until, apparently, you weren’t.
Brilliant Dr. Reid dead at 26
Former FBI agent Spencer Reid found dead in his home
Spencer Reid co-workers speak out on his legacy. Where to go from here?
You scoured every article you could find, analyzing every pixel of every image available. This was your guy. Same Spencer Reid from your dreams. Same Spencer Reid that stands behind you in every mirror of the house. Holy shit who was this guy? He was a little older than you, died last year in the summertime. Each article painted a brutal picture of his death, speculating on how the doctor died but never comfirming anything. Only that he was dead when paramedics got there, the sight of his covered body being extracted from his home was one that would stick with you. His home. It was the same house you were living in. It’s possible your grandfather was renting it out. That’s probably why nobody ever knew about it - he wasn’t living there. You didn’t know when water started pooling in your eyes, you only realized them as they started falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him but you felt like someone just sucker punched you and were about 60% sure your lunch was coming back up. Jesus.
There was no way you could tell your friends about this. The majority of your brain was pleading with you to rationalize this. Maybe you’d seen one of the articles before. Maybe your grandpa talked about him. Holy shit he had known your grandpa. Every individual thought you had was identifiable and that was far too overwhelming for your brain to handle. You signed out of the computer and went to go sit in your car. Could you even drive like this? Your hands were shaking so bad there was a good chance you’d crash the car before you got home. It’s twenty minutes, you thought. You had to go back. Staying away from the house any longer felt like a punishment. You can make it twenty minutes.
–
“No, no. Like I said it was just some old guy who wrote a book. No sign of my Spencer.” You were lying straight through your teeth. You figured it didn’t truly matter. If you sat here and told the entire story of finding exactly who you were looking for online, you think she’d have checked you into a facility.
“Maybe if you believe hard enough you can manifest him.”
“Wow you’re hilarious. Remind me again how I ever lived my life without such a humorous presence.”
“I question that same thing everyday, Y/n.” You could hear the smile embedded in her words.
“I’ll let you go. I know Dylan is probably waiting on you. Thanks for checking up on the Spencer chronicles.” You felt slightly bad. She was on her honeymoon currently, and instead of spending time with her new husband, she was listening to your stories of fraternizing with a ghost.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sure it’s weird as hell. Call me up if you need to, yeah? Hotel has unlimited calls so I can talk all night if you need to.” She was an angel in this world.
“Thanks, same goes here. If you get sick of your husband you know where to find me. Remember to use protection.”
“Alright, nevermind. You may suffer by yourself for all I care.” She laughed while she threatened you.
“Bye, honey. Love you.” You should have felt alone, but you never did. He was most likely here with you.
The exhaustion had well and truly crept up on you. You planned on getting home and calling your friend immediately, but you ended up needing a good few hours to cry and pace around the house. You weren’t scared - it was essentially the opposite. The complete lack of fear bred so much confusion that you didn’t know how to cope with the amount of frustration on your shoulders. You paced the house hoping to find him. You wanted to be near him. You harbored the immature hope that knowing who he was would grant you the ability to see him. Did you even know who he was? He was a doctor, an agent, but who was he to you? Is that what you needed to know in order to see him?
Now, sitting on your bed, you felt like you’d been through the ringer. The mental gymnastics of the day weighing heavily on your body. You needed to go to sleep. You wanted to go to sleep. In the last week or so you’d noticed a certain excitement regarding the promise of another tale, another dream. They were so extravagant, not even in the details of them, just in the consistency of pure emotion. You could have been fighting dragons or sitting on the porch in rocking chairs. If he was by your side, there was always this certain euphoria surrounding the two of you. A feeling reserved just for you and him. God you missed him.
–
You woke up slowly to a familiar bed beneath you, this was your house. The window was open, curtains blowing cautiously as the mild chill of the Fall breeze wafted in and dusted over your collarbones. It wasn’t this cold last night. You felt the breeze again on your whole body, and realized you were lying naked on top of the ruffled comforter. Had he pulled the blanket off you?
“Are you cold? I didn’t think to shut the window when I got up. I was kind of rushing to get my stuff.” You noticed then that he was sat behind a canvas, angled so he could glance between you and the task at hand with ease. He noticed you furrow your eyebrows, and even managed to catch the minuscule tense of your muscles as you prepared to sit up.
“Stay still for me, honey. I’m almost done.” He was adding feather-light brushstrokes to the piece, a finishing touch of his you now recognized from watching him paint so much.
“This isn’t a very good pose, Spence. You know I’m not the most photogenic.” You referred to the fact you had been sleeping as he painted, limbs not organized and environment chaotic. Notoriously unfavored things by the man. Maybe he was hoping to capture a candid version of you.
He exhaled a laugh. “How rich coming from you.” His lips quirked upward as he continued adding touch-ups to his art. “Something about you this morning…I don’t know.” He shook his head like he was talking to himself rather than you. “You just looked…mesmerizing.” He shrugged, brushing off the sentiment. “Felt wrong to just look at you.”
Dumbfounded was the only word you could think to describe yourself. He’d painted you before, mainly from the neck up for practice with faces, but this was different terrain. You were nervous to see the piece. You thought of your hips, your stomach, your legs. A silhouette he’d sworn time and time again was worthy of worship. One he wanted to treasure. You hoped you’d see a glimpse of yourself through his lens, hoped all that adoration would show on the canvas. Once he was finished with it, he turned it so you could see. It was breathtaking. His talent never failed to leave you speechless.
“I feel like I should be paying for this.” You joked, but still felt as though something should be given in return. He stood from his stool and joined you on the bed.
“I assure you, I’m well compensated.” Your face ran hot. “Can I hang it?”
“Spence, I’m naked-”
“Not downstairs, Y/n.” He chuckled. “I’d put it there.” He nodded to a vacant wall space on the right side of the room, entirely visible from his side of the bed.
“You want me watching you sleep, Reid?”
He grinned at you, shaking his head slightly at your remark. “Just wanna be able to see you.” He held your eyes. “I’m hoping looking at you before I go to sleep will give me good dreams.” You hummed in sarcastic agreement, your gaze falling soft a moment later.
“You can if you want to.” He looked relieved.
“Thanks, honey.” He looked stunning in the morning light. The sun hadn’t risen too long ago, and he was only covered partially by a pair of joggers. He was practically luminous, the bare skin of his chest looking golden in the sunlight. You stuck your hands out to feel him, and you felt as though you were trying to touch heaven itself. He leaned down to be closer to you, he always said you felt magnetic.
“You should let me paint you like this more often.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhm”
And, just like before, you could breathe again when he kissed you. Truly breathe. It was times like these when he felt like your oxygen, like pulling away should be sin. Lord knows you would suffer any version of Hell for him.
–
Your frustration seemed to have doubled in your sleep. Two am. You were gonna find that fucking painting. It wasn’t in the spot he left it - you would have noticed a giant painting of yourself naked on the walls, but you double checked to be sure. You threw up every light switch you came across and started scavenging through the upstairs. There was a certain tug in your body - when you didn’t find it in a room, you knew it wasn’t there, something internal telling you to look elsewhere. It was only when you were halfway done with the downstairs raid that you remembered the storage room. You’d found it when you first moved in, a room full of dust and white tarps covering furniture and other indecipherable shapes. It had to be in there.
You wrecked havoc on the tiny room. Tearing off layers of fabric quickly, leaving little thought to where you were throwing them, completely tunnel visioned on finding the painting. You came across a covered square the same size as the canvas had been. It was coated in so much dust that the covering looked ancient, and you were begging any conceivable being to be merciful, to let you have at least this if you couldn’t have him. You unveiled the shape to find the same vibrant pigments you’d seen just hours before. It was you, draped over the comforter and basking in the hue of the morning. This was it, you thought. Holy shit this is real. You had no grounds to deny this anymore. Spencer was a real guy, clearly he’d died in this house and clearly the two of you had lived enough lives together to fill months of sleepless nights with.
What did this mean for you? Were you a clone? Were you and Spencer both clones? Were you living in a simulated reality and all of this was actually a ruse calculated to induce reactions in the brain that could then be studied? Oh my god - were you a ghost too? Had you died and were now stuck in some form of purgatory?
You felt sick with it. You didn’t know you were capable of bearing such intense metaphorical weight. You needed to see him. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would realize you were having a dream and could figure some things out. That’s so stupid. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of such a dumb idea. You needed to speak with him. You needed him to tell you what was going on. Of course him and everyone in your life who could have known him were six feet deep. A seance, maybe? Perhaps just buy a ouija board and wing it. You’d seen the most of him when you were asleep, that had to be the key to figuring this out. Please dear god let it be the key to figuring this out. You took the painting and headed back upstairs. Maybe it could serve as a medium, you thought. That’s a thing, right?
You don’t think your bed had ever seemed so uninviting. You remember how grateful you’d been to finally sleep on your first day here. It was a pain in the ass hauling a mattress up a spiral staircase and the moment you realized you were done was a relief to say the least. Now you stared at it and your mouth ran dry. What if this didn’t work? What did you even want to happen? Were you going to rummage through your dreams and play detective to piece together what might have happened in your past? No degree of mental antagonizing could push you off course by now. He was real. You know he’d been a real man, and surely the painting of you meant you’d known him as something other than a ghost. You were simply praying this would work out how you wanted. You needed a semblance of closure, even just a small one.
–
The room was dark, making you double check if you opened your eyes in the first place. You hadn’t had a dream. This was the first time in months you had fallen asleep and woken up without having lived a different life. You felt tears forming in your eyes. The disappointment you felt was so immeasurable that your brain practically short circuited trying to find a way to process it. You knew it was a long shot for everything to be fixed overnight, but you’d expected something. Like he was reading your mind, the bed dipped down, him now occupying the space next to you in bed.
You were worried your head might fall off your neck with how quickly you turned to look at him. The moonlight came beaming in through the window, like she was your secret ally, giving you enough light to finish your battle. It lit him up, practically shining through him like it would a crystal. He was ethereal. You stared into the same brown eyes you’d been looking into for months and felt your resolve give way from within you. You could have looked at him forever, you wanted to look at him forever, but you crashed hard into him. You would have fused your soul to his at that very moment if you were able to. Nobody had ever drawn out such a reaction - you needed to feel him. It was the proof you had been begging for, he was here, he was tangible. You could finally know what it all meant.
You felt his chest jolt as he chuckled at you. “I missed you.” You could hear the smile in his words.
Choking on a sob, you spoke your response so quietly you could barely hear yourself. “What the fuck is going on?” You knew tears were probably soaking through his shirt but he just held you against him. “Please tell me you know what’s happening.” You were muttering your words quickly, sharply inhaling between your sentences as air refused to stay in your lungs.
He ran his hand up and down the length of your forearm, a motion so familiar and so comforting you’re sure your knees would have buckled if you weren’t lying down. “Just relax, honey. I can explain everything, ok? I just need you to breathe right now.”
It was hard to maintain your oxygen through the sobs begging to get out of your chest but you were nothing if not stubborn. You needed an explanation. If that was his condition then so be it. You took a deep breath, regaining your ability to inhale and exhale at a regular pace. You could see the room better now having been awake in the dark for a while, so you tried to focus on anything that might help. The painting. You stared holes into that thing and forced your breathing to even out.
“I was really proud of that one.” His words held an instinctual twinge of fondness, still smiling as he spoke. Like now that he had you, he could describe any horror of the world and still be happy with you in his arms. He looked back at you, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “You seem to get prettier with every lifetime.”
Even as the overwhelming confusion wrecked your brain, your body was completely in tune with him. Warmth seemed to spring to life in your stomach, his words bypassing any guards you had to root themselves within you. He regarded the situation so lightly, so casually. He wasn’t worried about slipping away, or running out of time. He would have given you a decade to calm down if you needed it. He seemed content with just calling you pretty, as though he’d waited a century to touch you again.
“My dreams, were they -” You paused. You didn’t even know what to ask him. “What were my dreams?” Were they real?
He took a moment to just stare at you. The smallest, knowing smile on his face and a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He knew what you were asking. “They were us.” Fucking obviously. If you were any more on the edge of your seat you would fall off. “All the lives we’ve lived together.” Jesus.
“How long ago-”
“Two thousand years, 5 months, 27 days, and-” he leaned up slightly to check the clock “14 hours.” Giving you the cutest tight-lipped smile when he finished talking like he didn’t just say you’d been in love for two millennia.
“So we’re soul mates?”
“Essentially.” He nodded. ‘Soulmates’ was close enough.
“But - is everyone like this, then?” Did all your friends have this too? Everyone in the world? “Everyone has a soulmate?” Your friend’s on her honeymoon right now.
He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, no. It’s just us.” What was so special about the two of you? “For all I know of at least. Your uh…your husband-” He hesitated for just a second, fingers digging into your skin just a fraction harder. “He found out about us. Had his mother cast a spell. He thought he was punishing us, I think. Figured we’d get sick of it after a while. Poor guy, all he did was condemn us to eternity together.” He held no genuine pity for the guy, more amusement at the thought of his plan actually succeeding.
“How long have you been here?” You hadn’t bothered to check when the articles were from, too busy trying to keep your head on straight to look for the publication date.
“A year.” A year of him alone in this house. God, you couldn’t even imagine. “I started having dreams of you. Everyday I just felt, like, something pulling me away from where I was. I knew your grandfather from an old case I worked and everything just seemed to happen.” He reminisced fondly, like the memory didn’t hurt him. “I don’t even really know how I died. I just remember having a party one night, and how the hallway looked from the bottom of the stairs.” Oh my God the warm spot.
“When you moved in I was thrilled but - fuck, honey, it was torture.” He delivered the line like it was a joke but his eyes were watering. “I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t help you - I couldn’t fucking touch you and it was unbearable.” His hands hadn’t left you since you woke up. Making up for lost time, you guessed. There was one question you were brutally aware of, something that persisted in your head even as you tried to enjoy the moment.
“Why can I see you now, then?”
He sighed, so full of devastation that it was clear he’d been preparing for this. “You can’t.”
“What?”
“You’ve seen all our lives, Y/n. This is the only one left.” He was so delicate in his explanations. His palms soothing over your face as if trying to physically soothe the sting of his words.
“Wait what does that-” What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”
“To be honest, I don’t really understand it either.” He exhaled at his own ignorance, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. “For the first time, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when you wake up.”
“Wake up? What do you mean wake up - Spence I’m awake.” You held onto his wrist that was near your face for emphasis, his hand still caressing your face. “I’m awake.”
His eyes were definitely watering. “No, Y/n, you’re not.”
“Spencer.” You’d never said it so sadly before. Tears were in your eyes for the second time that night. You would have done anything to carve this moment into stone. Sit here in his arms until time forced you into your next life.
“It’s ok, honey.” He was always reassuring, always safe. “We’ve done this for two thousand years, Y/n. You’re bound to get a little unlucky sometimes.” His optimism in the face of such a crushing development almost made you sick. Some things never change. “I finally have you back, alright? Just lay with me for a while. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty more lives to live.”
You halted the tears in your eyes, sniffling once to reign yourself in. “Ok.” You laughed, a little tearfully, and kissed him with all the love you had to give.
Plenty more lives to live.
That Is Some Wild West Shit Right There
When a mission goes of the rails and Y/n gets separated from the rest of the task force he is forced to use the skills he learned growing up in his home town to get back to his team.
Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader
—————————————————————————————————————
“This has got to be the stupidest place to build some sort of evil science base.” Y/n hissed into the coms, back pressed up against a massive crate.
What Y/n assumed to be a lab was built practically on the side of a cliff. On one side of the lab you had a mess of trees that was practically just a jungle, and on the other a sheer drop off that led to one of the angriest looking rivers Cowboy had ever seen.
“Relax, we’ve almost got the last of the files downloaded.” Ghost eased the antsy male. Y/n grumbled a bit.
There were a few more beats of silence before a blaring alarm sounded, Y/n cringed at the noise. “Relax, huh?”
As a group of enemy soldiers went to run into the building Y/n stood up and opened fire on them to take the heat off the rest of the team and keep them from getting cornered in there.
“Y’all get yer asses out here now!”
Ghost was first out the door, sliding behind a box on the opposite side of the court yard for cover. The others weren’t far behind, but Y/n was on the complete other side of the yard. Trapped between the armed group of terrorists and the sheer drop off.
“Cowboy, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed in the coms. Y/n ducked back down as a few of the soldiers turned their attention onto him.
Gaz threw out two smoke bombs, offering a bit of cover. Y/n took his chance and darted to another crate a bit farther away, but far to close to the cliff for his own comfort.
“Just peachy.” He hissed, ducking under the onslaught of bullets that rained down onto his crate.
“What the hell is that? Wait—“
“Get down!”
Y/n was able to cover his head just in time as a loud explosion shook the area. The crate he was behind blasted back in to him, shattering and sending his disoriented form flying back.
“Cowboy!” Soap shouted, breaking from his cover, but he was to late to reach his friend.
Y/n grabbed desperately at the edge of the cliff, but it was no use. Task Force 141 was forced to watch in horror as one of their own plummeted into the raging waters below.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Y/n’s eyes opened blearily. His head was pounding and everything was fuzzy, but he forced himself up onto his elbows.
His eyes adjusted a bit and he took in the area around him. The room he was in was quite homey. Beautifully woven tapestries hung on the walls and intricately crafted pottery decorated almost every space. The male was laid out on a woven mat, all of his things sat nearby.
The h/c haired soldier checked his body, cursing when he found the damaged tracker. There was no way his squad would be able to find his location now. Where ever the hell he was.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, and a middle aged man walked into the room. His face was kind and worn with smile lines, and he appeared to be of some sort of Hispanic decent. His smile widened when he saw Y/n was awake.
“Ah! My friend, we were worried for you. Fishermen found you in river.” The man spoke, his voice heavy yet still welcoming. “I saw the patch on your arm, you are American?”
Cowboy nodded. “Thank you for bringing me into your home, I could never repay such an act of kindness.”
The man shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “It is you who I could never repay. Your service is the ultimate payment.”
A soft smile graced the southern males lips. “Then perhaps you could answer some questions?”
Y/n explained everything. The terrorists, the explosion, the river. The older man listened intently.
“We were supposed to go to La Ciudad Perdida after we completed our task for extraction in two days, but I don’t even know where I even am.”
At the mention of the city the man, who Y/n had learned to be named Mateo, perked up. “Our fishermen found you not long ago, and the city is not to far. Come, I will see if I can help you.”
At the mention of the slight hope Cowboy was quick to grab what he still had, following Mateo from his rather large home. As they walked out the older man leaned down and whispered something to a young boy who was quick to scurry off.
“My village does not have vehicles like trucks and jeeps, but there may be another way for you to travel.” Mateo spoke. “La Ciudad Perdida his eight miles west of here, a long journey on foot. However…”
The boy from before returned, rounding Mateo’s home with a massive black horse in tow. The horse moved with a sense of elegance and pride to it, like it had complete confidence in every step it took.
Mateo smiled at the beast before turning to Cowboy, who was still watching the stallion in awe.
“Can you ride?”
Cowboy turned to look at Mateo, eyes shining like new born stars. “I have my whole life.”
The older gentleman smiled. “Good. Than Guerrero will be your mount. He his unflinching at the sound of gunfire, he shall run for you bravely.”
“Warrior…” Y/n whispered the meaning of the stallions name to himself, stroking the giants forelock. “Mateo, how can I repay you for this?”
He waved the h/c haired male off. “I already tell you, your service pays for it all. Besides, I am wealthy man. I have many horses.” The old Hispanic’s eyes shined with mischief.
Y/n laughed, clasping Mateo’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “I will not forget this, my friend.”
Y/n pulled himself up into Guerrero’s saddle, taking a moment to adjust his gun and equipment so the weight was more even. With a final wave to Mateo, Y/n rode off into the direction of La Ciudad Perdida.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Y/n did is best to keep Guerrero at a trot the whole ride. As much as he wanted to get there as fast as he could he had no idea what kind off situation he would be riding into, and he wanted both him and the stallion to have plenty of energy when they did arrive.
“You know, I always used to imagine doing this.” Cowboy chuckled to nobody but himself and the dark horse. “Riding into battle on a horse. Maybe it seemed silly, but I always thought that would be so badass.”
Guerrero snorted, shaking his head in response. Y/n chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck.
It wasn’t long before the outline of the city became prominent against the horizon. Y/n couldn’t help but smile that they had made it in time.
“Guerrero, I promise to you I’ll have you taken to my ranch back home where you will be treated like a king.” The southern male promised the horse, rubbing his neck. Y/n felt impossibly giddy about the fact he was about to be reunited with his teammates.
Once the city began to take shape the stallions steps paused for a moment, ears forward as he listened intently. It was only a moment before Y/n heard it too. The sound of raging gun fire, it was without a doubt coming from the city.
“That’s not good.” Y/n kicked Guerrero into a gallop. “Hyah!”
The black stallion whinnied, charging towards the city at impossible speeds.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Soap’s back was pressed flush against the truck he was hiding behind, Gaz right next to him as gun fire rained down over their heads.
After watching Y/n disappear into the raging water shit hit the fan. Ghost had went on a rampage, slaughtering every terrorist he could get his hands on.
Gaz had tried to find Cowboy’s location using his tracker, but the thing had obviously been damaged or destroyed in the river. That alone ebbed at Soap’s hope that he’d ever see the male again, but Soap knew better than that.
Cowboy was fighter. He was harder than nails with the kind of spirit that would put even the most wild of animals to shame. Soap knew if anyone could survive it would be him.
But that was counting on the fact that the rest of them would make it out. Whatever was left of the terrorist group had managed to regroup and followed them to their extraction point.
They had been caught unaware, and now all four of them were pinned down, unable to break from the cover long enough to wrap around behind the group.
Ghost cursed as he ducked his head back behind the crate he was using for cover next to where Gaz and Soap were. Price wasn’t far off, hidden behind his own rather large crate.
The most infuriating part about this whole thing is that there were only six terrorists. The task force without a doubt had them outmatched, but they had managed to get the drop on them.
“This is fucking insane. How many rounds could they possibly have.” Gaz cursed as the bullets continued to rain down.
Soap shook his head, reloading his own gun. “I don know, but I’m about sick of this.”
The shooting faltered for a moment, and the terrorists began shouting things Soap couldn’t make out. In the beat of silence a new noise was heard. It sounded like the beat of hooves on pavement, and it had the group leaning a bit to see what it was.
A hulking black mass was speeding down the street of the abandoned city, atop it sat a figure with a assault rifle poised and ready. The four could not believe their eyes as their teammate came charging in, giving a wicked laugh.
“Holy shit, Cowboy!”
“That is some Wild West shit right there.”
Y/n aimed his gun at the group of terrorists, the angle he came in at giving him the perfect opening. His heart thudded with wild adrenaline as he gave a loud war cry, littering their bodies with bullets.
The group didn’t know what had hit them.
Guerrero charged forward bravely, his ear hardly twitching as Y/n rained down hell onto the group. When the last of the terrorists had fallen Soap and Gaz were the first to move from their spots, followed closely by Ghost and Price.
Guerrero slid to a stop and Cowboy leaped from his saddle, Soap enveloping him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever experienced.
“Ah, you amadan! I knew you’d be alright!” The Scottish man bellowed, grinning from ear to ear as crushed the h/c haired male in a hug.
Gaz was next to reach him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately.
Y/n ribs felt like they were cracking from their crushing force, but his smile was wide. He was ecstatic to be back among his teammates.
Once Soap reluctantly released the male Price reached up to ruffle his hair for himself, grumbling about Y/n giving him a heart attack.
“Yeah, I suppose I don’t want to give grandpa any more scares.” Y/n teased, giggling as he earned himself a playful slap to the side of the head from his captain.
A large arm wrapped it’s was around Cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. The male looked up, meeting Ghost’s steely gaze.
“Glad you didn’t die.” The masked male said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting him go. Y/n smiled, Ghost wasn’t one for public affections, so that alone was equal to Y/n being swept off his feet and praised from the mountain tops.
“Have I got a story for you guys.”
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
“Thanks, Ricky. I really appreciate this man. Alright, talk to you later.” Y/n hung up his phone, pocketing it as he went back to towel drying his hair. Ricky was Y/n’s transport guy. The man in charge of getting Y/n’s horses and live stock from one place to another.
And thanks to Ricky, Guerrero was now on his way to Y/n’s ranch. Where Y/n was sure that the stallion would get the full royal treatment.
Y/n tossed his towel into the hamper, opening the door to his bedroom. Price and Ghost were already there waiting for him.
Price was sitting on Cowboy’s bed, leaned up against the wall and reading a book. He sported a grey T-shirt and pair of loose black joggers, his usual hat sitting on the bed side table.
Ghost was leaned up against the head board, a few pillows stacked behind him for comfort. The masked male wore a black tank top and dark grey sweats, his sleeve of tattoos also on display.
Y/n shuddered a bit, he had a few tattoos of his own. The emblem of his ranch on his left shoulder blade and a few more on his legs, but the sight of Ghost’s sleeve just made his heart flip. He’d have to get one of his own soon.
Cowboy made his way over to his bed, crawling over Ghost to sit closer to the wall. Once he settled against the pillows he huffed, throwing his legs over Price’s lap. The Captain only chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his book. Though, one of his hands stayed resting on the males thigh, his thumb drawing small circles into it.
Before Y/n could get fully situated Ghost reached out, tugging the shorter male in with an arm around his shoulder. Y/n’s head hit Ghost’s chest and he looked up to meet Ghost’s gaze, but the other wasn’t looking at him.
Cowboy knew Ghost needed this. Needed to feel him, needed to hold him, needed to know he was still here. Y/n could only imagine the storm of emotions they had all felt watching him topple over a cliff and disappear into the raging waters.
The southern male hummed a bit, reaching for the remote to get the true crime show pulled up. Now all they were missing was—
The door to Y/n’s room burst open, causing the three to jump a bit as Soap and Gaz tumbled into the room, each holding a bowl of popcorn.
“Alright we’re ready! Sorry it took so long, someone kept burning theirs.” Gaz shot Soap a look, making it clear who the guilty subject was.
Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before fumbling his way into the bed. He somehow managed to get between Y/n and the wall, laying his head on the males hard stomach. He gave the country boy a grin, offering him some popcorn which he happily accepted.
Gaz huffed when Soap took the best spot before plopping himself down by Y/n’s leg, resting his head on the thigh that Price wasn’t rubbing circles into.
Now that everyone was settled Y/n started the new episode of the show and everyone soon became engrossed into it.
With all of the bodies piled around and on top of him Y/n’s body was pleasantly warm, he snuggled back a bit into Ghost’s hold at the cozy feeling. Ghost’s eyes cut over to look down at the h/c haired male.
Ghost leaned down a bit, lips brushing the top of Y/n’s head through his mask. He turned back to look at the TV before Y/n could look up at him.
But Y/n didn’t need to look up, a smile crossed his face, he knew. He brought a hand up to rest on Soap’s head, playing with his fluffy Mohawk as he watched the old murder mysteries play across the screen.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Phew, there you go my lovelies! Hopefully this didn’t feel to unrealistic, but I’ve always imagined the riding in on a horse scenario ever since I thought of Cowboy Reader in the military lol
I’m planning on doing a little 4th July special for Cowboy Reader too so be looking out for that!
As always, hope you enjoyed!
- Author~Chan out ✌️
I just love cowboy shit
That Is Some Wild West Shit Right There
When a mission goes of the rails and Y/n gets separated from the rest of the task force he is forced to use the skills he learned growing up in his home town to get back to his team.
Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader
—————————————————————————————————————
“This has got to be the stupidest place to build some sort of evil science base.” Y/n hissed into the coms, back pressed up against a massive crate.
What Y/n assumed to be a lab was built practically on the side of a cliff. On one side of the lab you had a mess of trees that was practically just a jungle, and on the other a sheer drop off that led to one of the angriest looking rivers Cowboy had ever seen.
“Relax, we’ve almost got the last of the files downloaded.” Ghost eased the antsy male. Y/n grumbled a bit.
There were a few more beats of silence before a blaring alarm sounded, Y/n cringed at the noise. “Relax, huh?”
As a group of enemy soldiers went to run into the building Y/n stood up and opened fire on them to take the heat off the rest of the team and keep them from getting cornered in there.
“Y’all get yer asses out here now!”
Ghost was first out the door, sliding behind a box on the opposite side of the court yard for cover. The others weren’t far behind, but Y/n was on the complete other side of the yard. Trapped between the armed group of terrorists and the sheer drop off.
“Cowboy, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed in the coms. Y/n ducked back down as a few of the soldiers turned their attention onto him.
Gaz threw out two smoke bombs, offering a bit of cover. Y/n took his chance and darted to another crate a bit farther away, but far to close to the cliff for his own comfort.
“Just peachy.” He hissed, ducking under the onslaught of bullets that rained down onto his crate.
“What the hell is that? Wait—“
“Get down!”
Y/n was able to cover his head just in time as a loud explosion shook the area. The crate he was behind blasted back in to him, shattering and sending his disoriented form flying back.
“Cowboy!” Soap shouted, breaking from his cover, but he was to late to reach his friend.
Y/n grabbed desperately at the edge of the cliff, but it was no use. Task Force 141 was forced to watch in horror as one of their own plummeted into the raging waters below.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Y/n’s eyes opened blearily. His head was pounding and everything was fuzzy, but he forced himself up onto his elbows.
His eyes adjusted a bit and he took in the area around him. The room he was in was quite homey. Beautifully woven tapestries hung on the walls and intricately crafted pottery decorated almost every space. The male was laid out on a woven mat, all of his things sat nearby.
The h/c haired soldier checked his body, cursing when he found the damaged tracker. There was no way his squad would be able to find his location now. Where ever the hell he was.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, and a middle aged man walked into the room. His face was kind and worn with smile lines, and he appeared to be of some sort of Hispanic decent. His smile widened when he saw Y/n was awake.
“Ah! My friend, we were worried for you. Fishermen found you in river.” The man spoke, his voice heavy yet still welcoming. “I saw the patch on your arm, you are American?”
Cowboy nodded. “Thank you for bringing me into your home, I could never repay such an act of kindness.”
The man shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “It is you who I could never repay. Your service is the ultimate payment.”
A soft smile graced the southern males lips. “Then perhaps you could answer some questions?”
Y/n explained everything. The terrorists, the explosion, the river. The older man listened intently.
“We were supposed to go to La Ciudad Perdida after we completed our task for extraction in two days, but I don’t even know where I even am.”
At the mention of the city the man, who Y/n had learned to be named Mateo, perked up. “Our fishermen found you not long ago, and the city is not to far. Come, I will see if I can help you.”
At the mention of the slight hope Cowboy was quick to grab what he still had, following Mateo from his rather large home. As they walked out the older man leaned down and whispered something to a young boy who was quick to scurry off.
“My village does not have vehicles like trucks and jeeps, but there may be another way for you to travel.” Mateo spoke. “La Ciudad Perdida his eight miles west of here, a long journey on foot. However…”
The boy from before returned, rounding Mateo’s home with a massive black horse in tow. The horse moved with a sense of elegance and pride to it, like it had complete confidence in every step it took.
Mateo smiled at the beast before turning to Cowboy, who was still watching the stallion in awe.
“Can you ride?”
Cowboy turned to look at Mateo, eyes shining like new born stars. “I have my whole life.”
The older gentleman smiled. “Good. Than Guerrero will be your mount. He his unflinching at the sound of gunfire, he shall run for you bravely.”
“Warrior…” Y/n whispered the meaning of the stallions name to himself, stroking the giants forelock. “Mateo, how can I repay you for this?”
He waved the h/c haired male off. “I already tell you, your service pays for it all. Besides, I am wealthy man. I have many horses.” The old Hispanic’s eyes shined with mischief.
Y/n laughed, clasping Mateo’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “I will not forget this, my friend.”
Y/n pulled himself up into Guerrero’s saddle, taking a moment to adjust his gun and equipment so the weight was more even. With a final wave to Mateo, Y/n rode off into the direction of La Ciudad Perdida.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Y/n did is best to keep Guerrero at a trot the whole ride. As much as he wanted to get there as fast as he could he had no idea what kind off situation he would be riding into, and he wanted both him and the stallion to have plenty of energy when they did arrive.
“You know, I always used to imagine doing this.” Cowboy chuckled to nobody but himself and the dark horse. “Riding into battle on a horse. Maybe it seemed silly, but I always thought that would be so badass.”
Guerrero snorted, shaking his head in response. Y/n chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck.
It wasn’t long before the outline of the city became prominent against the horizon. Y/n couldn’t help but smile that they had made it in time.
“Guerrero, I promise to you I’ll have you taken to my ranch back home where you will be treated like a king.” The southern male promised the horse, rubbing his neck. Y/n felt impossibly giddy about the fact he was about to be reunited with his teammates.
Once the city began to take shape the stallions steps paused for a moment, ears forward as he listened intently. It was only a moment before Y/n heard it too. The sound of raging gun fire, it was without a doubt coming from the city.
“That’s not good.” Y/n kicked Guerrero into a gallop. “Hyah!”
The black stallion whinnied, charging towards the city at impossible speeds.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Soap’s back was pressed flush against the truck he was hiding behind, Gaz right next to him as gun fire rained down over their heads.
After watching Y/n disappear into the raging water shit hit the fan. Ghost had went on a rampage, slaughtering every terrorist he could get his hands on.
Gaz had tried to find Cowboy’s location using his tracker, but the thing had obviously been damaged or destroyed in the river. That alone ebbed at Soap’s hope that he’d ever see the male again, but Soap knew better than that.
Cowboy was fighter. He was harder than nails with the kind of spirit that would put even the most wild of animals to shame. Soap knew if anyone could survive it would be him.
But that was counting on the fact that the rest of them would make it out. Whatever was left of the terrorist group had managed to regroup and followed them to their extraction point.
They had been caught unaware, and now all four of them were pinned down, unable to break from the cover long enough to wrap around behind the group.
Ghost cursed as he ducked his head back behind the crate he was using for cover next to where Gaz and Soap were. Price wasn’t far off, hidden behind his own rather large crate.
The most infuriating part about this whole thing is that there were only six terrorists. The task force without a doubt had them outmatched, but they had managed to get the drop on them.
“This is fucking insane. How many rounds could they possibly have.” Gaz cursed as the bullets continued to rain down.
Soap shook his head, reloading his own gun. “I don know, but I’m about sick of this.”
The shooting faltered for a moment, and the terrorists began shouting things Soap couldn’t make out. In the beat of silence a new noise was heard. It sounded like the beat of hooves on pavement, and it had the group leaning a bit to see what it was.
A hulking black mass was speeding down the street of the abandoned city, atop it sat a figure with a assault rifle poised and ready. The four could not believe their eyes as their teammate came charging in, giving a wicked laugh.
“Holy shit, Cowboy!”
“That is some Wild West shit right there.”
Y/n aimed his gun at the group of terrorists, the angle he came in at giving him the perfect opening. His heart thudded with wild adrenaline as he gave a loud war cry, littering their bodies with bullets.
The group didn’t know what had hit them.
Guerrero charged forward bravely, his ear hardly twitching as Y/n rained down hell onto the group. When the last of the terrorists had fallen Soap and Gaz were the first to move from their spots, followed closely by Ghost and Price.
Guerrero slid to a stop and Cowboy leaped from his saddle, Soap enveloping him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever experienced.
“Ah, you amadan! I knew you’d be alright!” The Scottish man bellowed, grinning from ear to ear as crushed the h/c haired male in a hug.
Gaz was next to reach him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately.
Y/n ribs felt like they were cracking from their crushing force, but his smile was wide. He was ecstatic to be back among his teammates.
Once Soap reluctantly released the male Price reached up to ruffle his hair for himself, grumbling about Y/n giving him a heart attack.
“Yeah, I suppose I don’t want to give grandpa any more scares.” Y/n teased, giggling as he earned himself a playful slap to the side of the head from his captain.
A large arm wrapped it’s was around Cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. The male looked up, meeting Ghost’s steely gaze.
“Glad you didn’t die.” The masked male said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting him go. Y/n smiled, Ghost wasn’t one for public affections, so that alone was equal to Y/n being swept off his feet and praised from the mountain tops.
“Have I got a story for you guys.”
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
“Thanks, Ricky. I really appreciate this man. Alright, talk to you later.” Y/n hung up his phone, pocketing it as he went back to towel drying his hair. Ricky was Y/n’s transport guy. The man in charge of getting Y/n’s horses and live stock from one place to another.
And thanks to Ricky, Guerrero was now on his way to Y/n’s ranch. Where Y/n was sure that the stallion would get the full royal treatment.
Y/n tossed his towel into the hamper, opening the door to his bedroom. Price and Ghost were already there waiting for him.
Price was sitting on Cowboy’s bed, leaned up against the wall and reading a book. He sported a grey T-shirt and pair of loose black joggers, his usual hat sitting on the bed side table.
Ghost was leaned up against the head board, a few pillows stacked behind him for comfort. The masked male wore a black tank top and dark grey sweats, his sleeve of tattoos also on display.
Y/n shuddered a bit, he had a few tattoos of his own. The emblem of his ranch on his left shoulder blade and a few more on his legs, but the sight of Ghost’s sleeve just made his heart flip. He’d have to get one of his own soon.
Cowboy made his way over to his bed, crawling over Ghost to sit closer to the wall. Once he settled against the pillows he huffed, throwing his legs over Price’s lap. The Captain only chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his book. Though, one of his hands stayed resting on the males thigh, his thumb drawing small circles into it.
Before Y/n could get fully situated Ghost reached out, tugging the shorter male in with an arm around his shoulder. Y/n’s head hit Ghost’s chest and he looked up to meet Ghost’s gaze, but the other wasn’t looking at him.
Cowboy knew Ghost needed this. Needed to feel him, needed to hold him, needed to know he was still here. Y/n could only imagine the storm of emotions they had all felt watching him topple over a cliff and disappear into the raging waters.
The southern male hummed a bit, reaching for the remote to get the true crime show pulled up. Now all they were missing was—
The door to Y/n’s room burst open, causing the three to jump a bit as Soap and Gaz tumbled into the room, each holding a bowl of popcorn.
“Alright we’re ready! Sorry it took so long, someone kept burning theirs.” Gaz shot Soap a look, making it clear who the guilty subject was.
Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before fumbling his way into the bed. He somehow managed to get between Y/n and the wall, laying his head on the males hard stomach. He gave the country boy a grin, offering him some popcorn which he happily accepted.
Gaz huffed when Soap took the best spot before plopping himself down by Y/n’s leg, resting his head on the thigh that Price wasn’t rubbing circles into.
Now that everyone was settled Y/n started the new episode of the show and everyone soon became engrossed into it.
With all of the bodies piled around and on top of him Y/n’s body was pleasantly warm, he snuggled back a bit into Ghost’s hold at the cozy feeling. Ghost’s eyes cut over to look down at the h/c haired male.
Ghost leaned down a bit, lips brushing the top of Y/n’s head through his mask. He turned back to look at the TV before Y/n could look up at him.
But Y/n didn’t need to look up, a smile crossed his face, he knew. He brought a hand up to rest on Soap’s head, playing with his fluffy Mohawk as he watched the old murder mysteries play across the screen.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜
Phew, there you go my lovelies! Hopefully this didn’t feel to unrealistic, but I’ve always imagined the riding in on a horse scenario ever since I thought of Cowboy Reader in the military lol
I’m planning on doing a little 4th July special for Cowboy Reader too so be looking out for that!
As always, hope you enjoyed!
- Author~Chan out ✌️
Also she was some what of an accomplice to murder of a pedo that molested and killed one of Spencer’s neighbors kid. She protect her kid.
Put some respect on Diana Reid. She loved her son more than anything. She was paranoid schizophrenic and still did everything she could to raise her son by herself. She never tried to make him feel anything but loved and she truly believed he was perfect. She never made Reid feel abnormal or bad, she saw he was exceptional and treated him as such, reading him literature even when she was going through the worst of her delusions. There’s a reason Reid loves her so much: Reid isn’t above holding a grudge, he will happily cut someone off if he wants to. There’s a reason he protects her so closely
hot artists don't gatekeep
I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard
Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.
Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.
Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.
Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.
SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.
SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.
Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.
Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.
Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.
Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.
Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.
ME
Me: *does something to decrease my anxiety*
My anxiety: you want me to grow?
Me: N O !
My anxiety: ok, I grow!!!!
@br0ken-rec0rds
Me lovingly booping you all, 141 style <3
If only *sigh*
I hadn't read that one!
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Despite an initially awkward interaction in your favourite bookstore, maybe things start going well for you after meeting that handsome stranger.
a/n. My academic anxiety allowed me to finish this! Maybe it's because this type of situations it's all I need right now. 😩 I would really appreciate if you tell me if you liked and your opinions about it! Any advice would be appreciated. And please, remember English is not my first language.
Word count: 1.2k
You entered your favourite bookstore, knowing that you were going to buy something even if you didn’t plan on it. You went there a lot, it was on your way home from work and always a comfort place for you.
“Hi, Y/N! Are you buying something today?” The booksellers already knew you and you could even consider them as friends, you can’t remember how many times you just went inside only for a chat with them when the place was empty of customers. “It’s been a week since the last book I bought, so… you know I will.” You laugh knowing it was impossible to leave with empty hands.
You went to your most loved section, the fantasy one. The hunger games, The maze runner, A court of thorns and roses… Oh, how you loved those books. You were too focused on the book titles that you missed someone, only noticing the person when you bumped into him. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you! I’m so so sorry!” You looked up to the man staring at you and, oh god, he was captivating. His blue eyes were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen.
He looked at you and nodded, not saying anything. He stared at you for a few seconds and then he went back to his task of checking the book in his hands, The Hobbit. You hadn’t read that one. “Nice book, I guess, I hadn’t read that one!” He looked at you and nodded again. Realising he wasn’t going to say anything, you kept reading more titles until you decided for one.
“So, today I'm choosing this one, The invisible life of Addie LaRue, have you read it?” You asked the bookseller as you pay. You love to talk about books. You both start a conversation about it, but you couldn’t stop looking at where that handsome man was. You hoped to see him again, maybe not bump into him… or doing it, no matter how as long as you saw him again.
The next day, after having an awful day at work, you stopped again at your favourite place at the same hour, again. “Hey guys, today it's just looking! I need some distraction.” They nodded in your direction, understanding that some days, you just needed your books, not talking, not socialising, just books. Or that’s what they thought.
You did in fact need someone, someone that you didn’t have. You longed for someone like the men you read about, someone to love you like Hozier loves in his songs. Those days at work were the absolute worst, your boss being an asshole to you and without someone waiting for you at home for some cuddles to forget about everything else. So you searched for that comfort in books, alone.
You went again to the fantasy section, surprised (and excited) to see someone familiar there. It was the same man you’d bumped into the previous day. Should you say something? Maybe apologise again? “Hey! Hi again! I bumped into you yesterday… sorry about that again.” You cringed at yourself, you regretted starting to talk. “Hi, yeah, I remember, don’t worry.”
Oh. My. God. His voice. That’s all you could think about. You didn’t know what to say so you stayed there looking at him and wanting to disappear. “I’m Y/N, by the way, not that you care, but… yeah, hi.” You were two sentences away from punching yourself right in the face. Why couldn’t you just shut up? It wasn’t that hard, was it?
“Bucky.” Oh god, he was making clear that he didn’t want to keep talking, you were definitely annoying him. He didn’t deny that he didn’t care. “Well, nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ll let you keep looking.”
You saw that he was looking at some of the books you were looking at yesterday and you were curious about it. Was he doing it because he saw you? Or your delusional self was speaking? After some time wandering in between books, you decided it’s time for you to go home. You looked around to see if Bucky was still around but you didn’t see him.
Another day, another visit to the bookstore. This time you were excited about seeing someone. Was Bucky going to be there? You wanted to see him again, maybe talk to him if you felt brave enough. When you entered the bookstore, you searched for him, but he wasn’t there. One of your bookseller friends saw you enter and immediately called you.
“Y/N! I have something for you!” For you? What could it be? A new book that could be interesting for you? “Oh! What is it?” You didn’t understand the smile she was giving you. She handed you a book and a note. You read it.
Dear Y/N,
You told me you didn’t read The Hobbit, I think it’s time for you to do it. I guess I’m too coward to tell you this in person.
Bucky
You then looked at the book in your hands, The Hobbit. No way! You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Did he… leave this here? For me?” You couldn’t think straight, but the librarian understood what was going through your mind. “Yes Y/N!! He did!! He looked so nervous when he handed me everything! He bought the book just for you!” You were blushing so hard.
You decided then that you were going to go home right at that moment to start the book, it felt like a way to connect with him. You were slightly disappointed that it wasn’t him the one who handed you the book in person, but you couldn’t stop thinking that it was so cute how he did it. You were now excited to see him again to talk about the book, so you had to start it right now.
After arriving home you prepared yourself for a good reading session. You opened the book and saw a post-it on the first page.
Oh, and by the way, I’m not gonna be in the city this week, so here’s my number in case you want to talk about it while reading it ;).
Bucky, again.
His phone number was there. You let out an excited squeal. This was better than any romance novel you’ve ever read because this was real. THIS WAS REAL! You lost no time in adding him in your contacts and sending him a message.
Y/N: hi! Y/N here :). thank you for the book, excited to read it!
Bucky📚: Hey, Y/N. Hope you enjoy it ;). Keep me updated.
You were giggling and kicking your feet, you were actually texting the hot guy you met at the bookstore!
Y/N: i will! but… maybe i also want to talk about it in person…🤭
Bucky📚: When I come back to town, I would
like that too, maybe with a coffee?
Sweet mother of pearl! Was he asking you out? You couldn’t think about what to say.
Bucky📚: Like a date.
Oh. He was asking you out! Time to focus, you think to yourself.
Y/N: sure, i would like that :).
Y/N: now let me start my book! ;)
Maybe this could be the start of something interesting. Maybe you finally founded the man of your dreams.
i'm literally begging people to relearn how to use earbuds and headphones. i don't wanna hear your fucking tiktok while im waiting for my flight.
You're So Timeless | Vol. 2
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. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.
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 Recovery Period
When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.
The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.
Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.
And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.
Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.
After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.
He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.
You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.
“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”
You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”
“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”
“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”
“And you were going to do that part, too?”
“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”
“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”
“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”
“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”
“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”
“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.
Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.
“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”
“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.
“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.
“Oh I’m sure we can.”
It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.
You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”
“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”
“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”
“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”
Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.
“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.
“I don’t even know what those are.”
“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”
“What’s that look for?”
“You will find out in two to three business days.”
***
By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.
“Don’t tell Steve.”
“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.
“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.
“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.
“Sorry!” The attacker replied.
And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.
The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.
Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.
“Hey.”
“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.
“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.
“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”
“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.
“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table.
His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”
“Amazon.”
“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.
“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.
“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”
Catch Me Now
Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.
Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.
This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.
“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”
You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.
So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.
The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.
“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”
“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.
“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”
“Oh, sure. What movies?”
“The Hunger Games.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”
“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”
“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”
“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.
You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.
“Ready?”
“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.
“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.
“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.
He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.
You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.
“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.
“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”
“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”
“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”
“Woah.”
“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”
He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”
“What would you choose?”
“What name?”
“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”
“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”
“It is. Suits you.”
“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”
“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”
“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”
“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”
“Absolutely.” You nodded.
Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.
“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.
He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”
“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”
“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”
“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.
“So, what’s our cover?”
“What?”
“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”
“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”
“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”
Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.
“Look at this! They’re so big now.”
You laughed. “How big were they before?”
“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”
“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.
Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”
“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.
He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”
You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.
“Got a long day ahead of us.”
“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.
“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.
The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.
Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.
“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.
“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”
“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.
You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.
“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.
“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.
Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”
He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”
“You’ve gotta go slow.”
“Lesson learned.”
The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.
***
Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat.
“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.
“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”
“There are books?”
“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”
“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”
“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”
Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”
The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.
You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.
By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.
“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.
“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.
“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.
Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.
***
At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.
“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”
“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”
“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”
He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”
He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.
“Fun time?” He asked.
“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.
Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself.
“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”
“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.
Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”
“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”
Mr. Perfectly Fine
You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.
Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.
Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.
You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.
Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.
And god, did it hurt.
You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.
“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.
You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.
“Am I?”
“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”
“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”
“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”
“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”
“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”
“Oh. Need to talk about it?”
“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”
Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.
“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”
“What? How’d you—?”
“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”
“The second of those options, yeah.”
She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”
“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”
So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.
Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.
“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.
Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.
“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”
“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.
“The opposite.”
“Then why are you all torn up about it?”
“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”
“Had. In the forties.”
“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”
Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”
“What she said.” Kate agreed.
“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”
“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”
“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”
Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”
“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”
“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”
“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”
“Unfortunately.”
The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”
Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”
“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”
“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”
“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.
Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”
I Can See You
Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.
“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”
“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”
“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”
“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”
His eyes softened. “I know that.”
“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”
“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”
“If they did, they’d have used it already.”
He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”
“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”
His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”
“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”
“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”
He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”
“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”
He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”
You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.
You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving.
You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.
Ideally, anyway.
Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.
“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.
“You could say that.”
At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.
So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”
“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”
“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”
“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”
“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”
“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”
Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.
Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.
The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.
Oh right, Hope. Awesome.
You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.
“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”
Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”
“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”
“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.
The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.
“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”
“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.
“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”
As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.
You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.
“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.
“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.
You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.
“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”
“Not too much.”
“Want a lift?”
“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.
You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.
“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”
“A few minutes.”
“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”
Radio silence.
“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.
“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.
“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”
“As steady as I can.”
A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.
Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.
Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.
***
The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.
The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.
The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.
His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.
“How did it go?”
“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.
He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”
“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”
He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”
“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”
Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.
“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…
You smirked. “I have some idea.”
“She told you?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”
He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”
“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”
He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”
“Too sweet?”
“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”
“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.
Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”
“Have at it.”
“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”
“Night, Steve.”
Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”
You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”
Champagne Problems
Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.
You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.
Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.
“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”
“You weren’t.” He laughed. He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”
“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”
“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”
“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”
You blushed. “Thanks.”
“You hear about Nat and Buck?”
“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”
“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Steve.”
He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”
The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.
“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”
She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”
“Text me when you find out.” He said.
“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.
You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.
The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.
The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.
You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.
A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”
“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”
“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”
“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”
He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”
“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”
You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”
“You’ve never…?”
“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.
“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”
“How long you got left?”
“Another year.”
“I’ve got three and a half months.”
“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”
“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”
“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”
You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.
Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.
“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.
She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”
“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”
She smiled. “Lead the way.”
***
In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.
The Vision.
She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.
“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”
The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.
Someone who was already in love with you.
Maybe there was some hope after all…
The Origin
Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.
In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.
“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.
“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”
The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.
“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”
“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.
“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”
“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”
Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”
You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.
Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.
“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”
“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.
“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”
The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.
You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.
“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.
You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.
Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria
“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.
“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel.
A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.
Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.
“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.
He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”
Your world came crashing down. “The what?”
“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”
“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”
It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.
“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.
You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.
“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”
Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.
“Having a party without us?”
“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.
“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”
Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.
You still felt numb.
***
You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.
You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.
“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”
“Well, can you blame me?”
“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”
“About her life, Tony!”
“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”
You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”
She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.
You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”
Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”
“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”
Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”
“What about the suppressor?”
“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”
“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”
“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”
“Anything else?” Tony asked.
“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.
“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”
Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how you would take it.”
“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”
“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.
“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”
“It’s not you I’m mad at.”
“Kid, please don’t—”
You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.
Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.
All of them except for you.
You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.
“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.
“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.
The chip in your shoulder burned.
You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.
Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.
Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.
Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”
He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”
“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”
“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”
“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”
“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”
He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”
***
Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.
Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?
Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve.
The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.
Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.
He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.
“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”
Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”
“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”
“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”
“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.
His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.
“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.
“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.
“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”
“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”
You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.
You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.
“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.
You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.
“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”
“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.
“Timeless.”
“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”
He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.
“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”
It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.
Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”
“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”
“Night.”
His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.
Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.
Even if you didn’t know it yet.
***
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.
The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.
Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.
There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.
But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.
“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.
“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.
She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”
“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”
“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”
“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”
“During training?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”
“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”
“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.
He smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”
“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”
“Anytime.”
“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.
You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”
Show Yourself
“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.
On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.
And Tony definitely deserved it.
“I’m good. Go for it.”
Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.
Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.
“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.
“You feel okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”
“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.
It felt right.
Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.
“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”
“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand.
You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.
“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”
“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”
“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.
They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.
First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.
You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.
You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.
And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.
“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.
Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.
For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.
“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.
“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”
“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.
“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”
“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”
“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”
“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.
“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.
“So you did like it?”
“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”
“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”
You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.
“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”
“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”
“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you.
It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.
Fuck Tony.
***
Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.
You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.
“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”
“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”
“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.
“Make anything cool lately?”
“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”
“Oh she’ll love that.”
“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”
The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.
So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?
***
Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.
He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.
Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.
Happiest Place on Earth
Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.
And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?
You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.
They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.
“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.
“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”
“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.
“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.
You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.
A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.
Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.
Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.
“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”
“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”
“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked.
You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”
You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.
Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”
“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I’m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”
“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”
“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.
You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.
“Wait—”
“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.
Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.
“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”
“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.
“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.
“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”
Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”
“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”
“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”
“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.
Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.
“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”
Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”
“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.
“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”
“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.
Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.
And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.
You’re On Your Own, Kid
Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.
Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.
You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.
There was a knock on your door.
“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.
“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.
“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”
Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”
You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.
If you already knew.
“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.
But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.
“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”
“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’
You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was.
“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.
“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.
“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.
“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.
“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.
“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”
“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.
“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”
“I got it online. It was on sale.”
“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.
“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.
“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”
“Nice.”
Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.
“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”
“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.
“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”
“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.
Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.
“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”
“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.
***
Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.
Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving.
Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.
He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.
“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.
***
You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.
Off with the Band-Aid.
“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.
“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.
“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”
“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”
“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.
“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”
“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”
“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.
“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.
“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.
“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.
“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.
“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”
“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”
“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.
“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”
Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.
“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”
“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”
“I guess so.”
“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.
“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”
The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant.
“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, Steve.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
***
You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.
You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.
The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.
And then everything went white.
Right Where You Left Me
In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.
For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.
Part of him didn’t want to.
And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.
And now, he was holding your hand.
You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.
“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.
“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”
“What’s an inhaler?”
“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.
You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”
“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”
“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”
“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”
“You just might.”
You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”
Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”
“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”
He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”
***
It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.
It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.
“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.
“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.
“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.
Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”
“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.
“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”
You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”
“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”
“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.
“Says the girl with superpowers.”
“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”
Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.
“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”
He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”
You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”
He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”
***
After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.
“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.
Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”
“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”
“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”
“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”
Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When
Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.
You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.
Steven Grant Rogers.
“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.
You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.
“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.
“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.
“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.
You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.
“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”
You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.
Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.
“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.
You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.
“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”
Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.
“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”
“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.
“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”
“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.
You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.
“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin.
You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.
It was always you. It had always been you.
“Steve…”
“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”
“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”
“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”
You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.
“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”
You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”
“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”
“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.
“Yes.”
“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”
He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”
Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.
You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.
“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.
“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”
“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead.
He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.
***
Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.
You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.
Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.
You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.
Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”
“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”
“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”
“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”
“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”
Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.
“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”
“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”
Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.
You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.
His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.
“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”
“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”
“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.
He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”
“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.
“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”
“I was still in the ice!”
“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken.”
The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.
You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.
During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.
Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.
“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”
“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.
“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.
“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.
When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.
He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.
He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.
“Oh I think I know what this is.”
“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”
You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”
“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.
You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.
“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.
“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.
“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”
“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.
“Doing what?”
You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”
“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”
He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.
“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”
“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”
It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.
But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.
You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.
“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”
“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”
He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.
Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.
“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”
“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.
The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.
You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.
After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.
For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.
And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.
“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”
Tags: @cap-lu20
I was quite literally just searching for this one. So glad I found it again!
The Boy Who Lived
Reader X Draco
Summary: A few months after the war, Draco gets attacked and left barely alive in St. Mungo’s. They refuse to treat him or take his money. You have a few things to say about that.
A/n: Look at me writing! And I’ve really been meaning to write something like this for quite some time because it is so soft and fluffy with only mild angst if you squint. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think! I miss talking with y’all.
“He… he’s gonna be okay, right?”
My heart feel when I heard the news. No matter how much I loathed the youngest Malfoy, hearing that he was in St. Mungo’s because some ne’er do well thought that the boy deserved to be tortured to almost death for what his family had done. My eyebrows furrowed as I parted from the small group of Alumni Gryffindors and watched the city behind the windowpane. I could hear the soft murmurs of Harry Hermione and Ron discussing it.
Keep reading
~Saviour~
Warning: Hospitals, near death, violence, blood. Graphic descriptions.
Synopsis: when a mission goes south you save your 141 boys.
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Life had a way of throwing shit at you. Giving you a curveball that often cleaved through your life.
This day was no different.
You sat in the med bay. Blood and dirt caked your hands all the way up to your elbows. Your breath was erratic as your left hand clasped and unclasped. Your right arm was numb laid limply on your knee. You glanced at it, unsure why it wasn't moving. Your hand was hidden by a glove that looked a little big to be yours. Were you wearing gloves? You couldn't remember. Your eyes set on the door in front of you. The doors which behind held your squad. The nurses and doctors who rushed around sent brief worried glances at you, but you would simply wave them off. You could only see the blood on your arms. You couldn't see the blood that covered your shirt and down the right side of your face.
Flashes of what happened played on a taunting replay in your head.
It was supposed to be just a simple routine check on one of the outreach bases. Your team was accompanied by about thirty others. You remembered sitting with your squad as Price gave out some simple orders. You remembered smiling brightly at the boys as they cracked a joke.
You remembered feeling the first drops of rain when it happened. You took notice of the water dripping from your body onto the cheap plastic chair as you closed your eyes. You were as wet as a drowned rat. You weren't really sure how it happened. There was an explosion. There were other soldiers, not dressed like you. It was an attack. You were the furthest from the explosion. You remember seeing your squad scattered around? Price and Ghost were the only other ones who recovered consciousness. They went down faster than you could comprehend. Ghost, because of another explosion and due to a loss of blood, a bullet cleaved through his collarbone. Jonny's lung was collapsing and Gaz was unresponsive. You could name every other injury your squad sustained. You had it all listed in your head. Every scratch and laceration. You remembered treating them amid the chaos. You remembered dragging them each to the rally point where they were packed into a chopper and taken to safety. You remembered regurgitating that information up to the doctors. When your mind was done with that, it started replaying what you had done to treat their injuries. Had you done it properly? You followed through your steps, trying desperately to piece them all together.
You couldn't. It was all a jumbled mess. You mind was a jumbled mess.
You weren't allowed in the operating rooms; you weren't qualified. You remembered being pulled out by someone. You remember trying to fight against their arms, but they were too strong. And now you were there. Sitting alone in an empty hall.
As the adrenalin started to run out, you finally noticed the ringing in your head. The numbness up your right arm. With everything you felt, you diagnosed yourself with a concussion, a bad one and possible shock. You didn't know how long you had sat there. Yet when a doctor approached you, your clothes were dry.
"You can see them now. They're all awake and in bay seven," he said, gesturing you in the room. Nodding, you mumbled out a thank you as you walked into the room and noticed that you had a slight limp.
"Heeeyyyyyy. There's our medic. Finally decided to show up and do your job, huh?" your eyes first found Jonny’s. He sat upright in the hospital bed with a bright smile on the right. Ghost and Gaz stood next to Price, in a bed of his own, looking pretty good on the left. You had to give it to modern medicine. It was extraordinary.
"Damn girl, you look like shit," Gaz commented, making everyone in the room chuckle. You chuckled as well as you took them all in. Took in the open eyes and smiles.
They were alright.
"Sorry. Haven't had time for a shower. But I still smell better than Jonny," you said, earning chuckles from them.
"You got a bit of a limp there. You alright kid?" Price groggy voice came from the bed. His shoulder was wrapped up something fierce.
"I'm alright sir. My arms a little banged up. How about you, huh?" you asked.
They were all alive and safe.
"I'm alright. A little disappointed you weren't doing your job, though. But I had a cute doctor so I'm not complaining," Price cracking a joke. A rare but welcome thing.
"Nah, the doctors wouldn't let me in. I don't have the right credentials apparently," you said, feeling something building behind your eyes.
"What a load of shit," Jonny said.
"But you're all ok right?" you asked, your voice shaky as you gripped your sleeve.
"We're fine. A little beatenand bruised, but we're out of the woods," Gaz commented. You weren't able to hold the small sob that escaped your lips.
"That's good. That's good," you said, reaching your hand up to cover the sob with a cough. Yet you couldn't hold back the tears that quickly started to pour from your eyes. The relief you were feeling was too much. The worry and fear that had been suffocating you had lifted, finally letting you breathe. It seemed like the whole time you had been waiting was like being underwater. And with their words, you were finally able to gasp for air.
They were ok.
"Sargent?" Price questioned hesitant looks being passed around the room.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, wiping the tears away.
"Oh come on short stack. These little scratches aren't worth crying over." your squad wasn't sure what to do. They didn't really cry. It was something that was strange to them, so they weren't sure how they should react to you doing just that.
"It's just. God. You idiots really worried me, you know. And now you fuckers got me crying. God. It seems like I really love you guys," you sniffled as you whispered that last part to yourself. Not well enough though. They had each heard it.
"Aw come on. Now. You're gonna make me blush," Jonny’s comment had you laughing as you whipped your nose.
"You better consider yourselves important. I don't just cry for anyone you know," you calmed yourself, your cries settling into only tears and a brief quiver of your voice.
"Come on now, Sargent. Straighten yourself out. And for god's sake, have a shower," Price said with a warm smile. You nodded with a smile.
"Yes sir," you took one last look around the room before turning to leave.
You didn't get far. Your legs didn't seem to get the plan. Your knees buckled slightly, but you were able to keep yourself up.
"Come on," you whispered, straightening up. You weren't on your feet for more than two seconds before you tumbled to the ground.
"Y/N!" As you lay on the cold ground you felt yourself being flipped over. Those who could stand had rushed to you. Then nothing.
Your squad watched all in pure worry as Ghost lifted you onto a spare bed. They yelled for a doctor.
"What's wrong with her?" A doctor who had been yanked into the room asked, taking a torch and shining it in your eyes.
"She just collapsed," Gaz said.
"She's got a concussion," he started.
"She said there was something else with her arm too," Ghost added. Jonny stood waddling over to you. The doctor pulled your left sleeves up to see if there was anything wrong. Seeing nothing, he moved to the right. Pulling the sleeve up, he pauses in slight shock. Your skin was blistered and bleeding with four-degree burns.
"I need nurses here now!" he yelled. He hurried, cutting your shirt sleeves going higher and higher to see the burns all the way up your arm and shoulder. Underneath were the remnants of a burnt shirt. You had put the glove on to get a better grip of whatever you were handling, your hand having become a blistered mess. A few nurses rushed into the room, starting to set up monitors. One nurse cut open your undershirt and paused.
"Doctor," she explained. All attention was pulled down to your stomach. Deep Purple coloring had spread across your abdominal area.
"She's bleeding internally. Get the surgery ready! Let's go!" your squad watched on in shock as the nurse hurriedly ushered your bed out of the room.
Price sat upright in his bed, waiting. They all were. A young private rushed into the room.
"Sir, here's the footage you asked for," he rushed forward holding out a tablet to the Captain. Silently, he pressed play. Everyone watched in shock as they saw the attack play out. They saw you. Dazed and in pain as you took in your burnt arm. They watched your worry quickly shift to them. They saw you pulling them each to safety. Saving them. They saw you get struck in the stomach by an airborne piece of debris. They saw you covered them with your body as more explosions rang out. They saw you come back for each and every one of them even when people held you back.
"How long ago did we get in?" Price asked.
"About a day and a half, sir," the private stated.
"So you're telling me. One of my men sat out in that hall for a day and a half with no medical attention?" Price asked, gripping the tablet tightly. The poor lad nearly shit himself when he felt the glares of all four men fall upon him.
"Sir, the attack borough in a flux of patients," the young soldier wasn't able to finish his response when Price shoved the table back into his chest.
"Then why the hell was she alone in the attack?" he asked. The private eyes darted around nervously. Even if her team had gone down, there were other soldiers around. Where were they? Why haden’t they helped you?
"You were all in a danger zone. We had established a protective line. We were given orders to stay behind it," he muttered.
"So you fuckers were gonna leave us there?" Jonny asked in anger. The private cast his eyes down in shame. They now understood why people were holding you back. You were going against orders to save their lives.
Most of the squad was discarded and getting dressed when a doctor walked into the room, his eyes cast down at his tablet.
"Who's the dick that demanded I personally report a medical condition when I have a whole base full of patients?" the doctor was pissed. When he pulled his eyes from his tablet and took in the inhabitants of the room he gulped quickly changing up his tone.
"How is she?" Price asked.
"Well, she had severe internal bleeding. We patched that up though. She had a few broken ribs. Her arm had four-degree burns. She has a concussion and a slight fracture to the skull. She's going to heal up fine with time but her arm will be permanently scarred. She's unconscious right now. And it might be a few hours before she's out of the woods," he quickly reported your condition. He looked hesitant building up the courage to get the last bit of information out.
"What else?" he asked.
"Her heart stopped beating halfway through the operation. Only for a few seconds though. We were able to resuscitate her with the deliberator," he added. The boy's mouths went dry.
Your squad all stood at the window to your room. You were bandaged up like a mummy, a breathing tube stuck in your mouth. Two nurses shuffled around you attending to bits and pieces. Dread, utter dread seeped into their bodies as they took you in. As reality set in.
The team was a mess after that. At all times, you had at least one of them in your room. Cards and flowers piled up on your bedside table moving to encompass the little corner of the room. As soon as the doctor told him that talking to you might help you come out of the coma quicker, he was unstoppable. Jonny would constantly come in, talking nonstop about anything and everything. Gaz would sometimes bring you your favorite snacks wafting the scent over to you in hopes it would wake you up. Price would pop in every morning before breakfast and every afternoon before dinner, demanding a full report of your status. And Ghost would simply sit by your bed. Scared half the nursed shitless to see him looping finger and skull mask walking about at night.
And they were mad. Price nearly got half the nurses and doctors fired. Those he didnt mange to get fired were transferred.
It was a week before you woke up. You were in a slight daze. Your vision blurry as you took in your painful limbs. After the doctor and nurses checked up on you, you sat upright in bed. They had told you the extent of your injuries. And you were still feeling a bit drowsy.
A nurse had just left from checking your vitals when you heard a thunder of footsteps. Then you saw them. Your squad all fumble into the room. Relieved and happy smiles spread over their faces as they all clambered around your small bed.
You couldn't really remember what they were saying. After all, they were all talking over each other. What you do remember was the looks they gave you. Looks of utter application and relief. And a newfound respect.
"Sargent," they all went silent as Price entered the room.
"Sir," you nodded.
"We saw what you did for us," he said, simply unsure how to proceed with the following words. How do you thank someone for saving your life?
"What I did?" you mumbled in confusion. "What did I do?" you chuckled playfully. Your squad looked over your carefree smile.
"You don't remember?" Ghost asked.
"Not really. I remember we were attacked. Seems like I was pretty fucked. Let me guess, you guys saved my ass huh?" you asked playfully. You really couldn't remember what had happened. It was all a blur. The doctor mentioned you might have some amnesia.
"You did well, Y/N. You did good," Price said, extending his hand out to you. You let out a huff of a chuckle confused by his words but shook his hand nonetheless. The boys would later tell you what had happened but you just shock it off thinking they just wanted to make you feel better.
As you recovered, they harassed the doctors and nurses hanging over their shoulders and constantly asking what they were doing. And you healed.
Ghost would find himself constantly training to keep his mind off his worry for you. Yet halfway through every workout or exercise, his worry would get the better of him. It brought a smile to your face when he would walk in. He would chat and talk, as much as Ghost could, always checking that you had everything you needed. He was also the one the nurses hated the most. Now Ghost wasn't dumb, but he certainly didn’t really understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, as he called it. So when anything beeped, or he noticed something that looked weird, he would press the nurse call button and ask what it was. You found the concern cute but annoying sometimes. A welcome annoyance, though.
After a certain amount of medication, you felt sleep pulling at you. Ghost, noticing your heart rate slowing down, slightly reached for the nurse call button.
"It's fine, Simon," you spoke up through half-closed eyes.
"Then why is the beeping thing slowing down?" he asked, gesturing to the machine as he pulled a chair up to sit beside your bed.
"Your heart rate slows when you go to sleep. Which the current medication is doing," you explained with a small smile.
"Huh," he hummed, settling down in the chair.
"What's on your mind, big guy? You're usually jumpy today," you questioned lazily, waving your arm out to him. Not bothering to bring it back to the bed, you let it dangle off the side.
"The doc said something about a bleed somewhere," he shrugged gently, taking your hand and going to tuck it back under the sheets. Instead, you grasped hold of his pinky, holding it tightly.
"I popped open a stitch, it's fine, it's fixed, see," you said, waving your other damaged hand where a small cut lay underneath the bandage.
"What? You worried about little old me?" you asked with a small smirk, your eyelids drooping.
"Always love," he grinned back, moving his hand to completely engulf yours. You looked over his gentle eye. The honesty in his eyes. He had called your love before. It was always in a playful tone. But that time. The word sounded so different. It sounded sincere.
"Is the big bad Ghost actually saying something sincere?" you asked playfully.
"Yeah well, don't get used to it," he shrugged, going to pull his hand back, but you held tightly onto it. He propped an eyebrow questioning.
"Thank you for being here. It means a lot," you whispered.
"Well, it's the least I can do. And while we're on the topic of thanking. I wanted to thank you for everything," he avoided your gaze as he spoke, having to clear his that afterward.
“I'm the medic, it's my job,” you stated simply.
“Yeah, well you gotta stay alive to do ya job,” he mumbled, his gaze focused on your intertwined hands, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your palm. Flashes of the cold panic reverberated in his mind. The fear that threatened to swallow him when he saw you being wheeled out of the room. The dread that squeezed his lungs so painfully he thought he might have a collapsed lung himself.
“Don't tell me what to do,” you joked playfully. His shoulders did their little jump chuckle thing as he returned his gaze to yours. The warmth you held in your eyes. The warmth that spread through you as he gazed at you so sincerely. You had to admit it now. You were smitten with the lieutenant. Perhaps it was the drugs making you feel truthful. It was definitely the drugs that had you reaching up. Ghost frowned as your hand placed itself at the base of your mask. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as your fingers dived under the mask trailing up to cup his cheek. Your smile widened as you felt the tickle of a stubble on your palm.
“I knew it. I knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you whispered softly, your thumb brushing the skin feeling a scar or two. Ghost found himself placing his hand over your own, moving his lips to press them into your palm. The kiss so tender as it lingered on your skin.
"You know. I'm gonna make you my Misso," now you were sure it was the drugs that had you speaking like that, but at that moment you didn't care. Because only a second after you pulled your hand back, Simons fell with yours as he held it again. Only a second after you had fallen into a deep sleep, your hand still clasped around Ghosts.
A very confused Simon glanced over at your heart monitor before signing deeply.
"What the fuck is a misso?" he asked himself.
Price would come by later to see how you were, only to stop in the doorway. Simon lay propped up on the bed beside you, sleeping peacefully. Your hands still intertwined.
With a small knowing smile, he turned around and closed the door behind him.
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--Cod master list here--
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Pilot!Reader x TF 141
Friendship Headcanons
Warnings: cursing
Words spread like fire about your amazing skills in the air. Every team that got assigned to you and your helicopter comes back home safe and sound.
Captain Price demands your transfer to his team after you had the honor to do a mission with the Task Force 141. He only chooses the best of the best to work with.
“John! You can’t demand every good soldier I have for your team.” – “Laswell, I can and I will~”
Needless to say, but Laswell is more than pissed since you are one of the best pilots if not the best pilot on the base, but Price always get what he wants.
With your quite sassy and funny demeanor you win the hearts of the tough men rather quickly.
“Dear Task Force 141, this is your pilot speaking. If you look to the right side of the helicopter you can see Eagle 3 challenging us to a race. So, please keep seated and hold on for dear life because shit is about to get real~”
The team making bets between you and the other pilot of Eagle 3. In the end, you always win.
At first the team makes fun of you naming your helicopter Valkyrie, but after a little nosedive after a hard mission they stop very quickly. They really made the mistake of underestimating you and your helicopter.
Valkyrie actually was ready to be dropped out from the military due to old age. It was love on first sight for you. It took weeks to convince Laswell but, in the end, you got the old birdy and brought her back to her glory. It came in handy that you are literally blessed with a mechanic soul.
In your free time you love to try out new things to improve Valkyrie for the next mission. Gaz really wants to help every time, but ends up standing in the way most of the time.
“Can you give me the screwdriver for the Fillister Head screws?” – “Uh…. this one?” – “Nope, there most be another one.” – “This one?” – “… You know, Gaz, the windows are in need for a good cleaning. Could you do that for me?”
You hit him with the puppy eyes and Gaz goes to clean the windows like you asked. In the end he is just happy to be there with you :)
Soap is really fascinated with the weapons Valkyrie carries for the missions. You always take your time to explain and show him everything. Here and there he is also allowed to help you out during missions to kill a few of the enemies. That makes him literally so happy like a little boy in the candy shop.
Nevertheless, you use every single chance to mess with Soap. Sometimes Price joins you just for the fun of it.
“Get away from my baby, Soap.” – “I’m not doing anything!” – “You are way too close and I don’t like how you look at her.” – “What the hell?” – “Do what (Y/N) says, Soap!” – “But, Captain!” – “No buts.”
Gaz and Ghost know exactly what is going on and try to hold in their snickering.
With you there is literally not a single dull moment before, during and after missions. The boys love and life for those moments.
Once you left behind one of the soldiers because he got on your nerves before take-off.
“Eagle 2, where are you going?” – “Uh, Urzikstan.” – “You forgot one of the soldiers. He’s banging on the window here.” – “Yeah, we kind of had a fight and he’s an asshole so I kind of had to kick him out. I’m sure Eagle 3 has enough space for him.” – “Eagle 2, you can’t do that. Cancel takeoff clearance!” – “Oops, I accidentally put the throttles to TO/GA. See you later alligator~”
Or the other time on the way back to the base.
„Watcher 1, we request medical at the gate. Uh, we beat up another stowaway…” – “Eagle 2… YOU DID WHAT?!” – “Uh… yeah, we found him halfway back to base and he refused to leave the helicopter so we beat him up and tied him like a present gift on Christmas morning…” – “I am not dealing with this! Land like always and contact ground for medical aid.”
To Laswell’s displeasure you take your sweet time after missions to come back to the base. Here and there you make a little stop at the next fast-food chain.
“I think the drive-through will not do it. Someone has to go out and order at the counter…”
Those encounters with Laswell over the comm create a quite close bond between the two of you over the time.
“Look, who’s back!” – “Don’t even say it, Watcher 1.” – “You were supposed to land five hours ago?!” – “You should be happy we came here at all~” – “How about you land on time for once. That’ll make me happy.” – “We got burgers. Do you want one?” – “YOU GOT WHAT, EAGLE 2?!” – “Burgers…” – “… You will be the death of me … Get them over here fast, Eagle 2.”
Of course, Kate would never admit it out loud that you are her favorite pilot.
“Oh, Eagle 2!” – “Shut up and let me concentrate!” – “Five hours late again. At least butter this landing.” – “We are not Eagle 3. At least we know how to land.” – “Let’s learn how to come in on time next… Did you secure the goods?” – “Sure, Watcher 1. Your usual order coming right to you~”
Captain Price lost count how often you saved their lives with Valkyrie. They trust you blind and know you would do anything to bring them back home. But during one special mission you show how the team really mean to you.
“(Y/N)! We need air support! We can’t get to the evac point!”, the team needs your help, but you ran out of ammo a few minutes ago. You know exactly that they won’t make it without your help. This is the hardest and easiest decision at the same time you have to make.
“It was a good time we had together, Valkyrie”, you say your goodbye to the helicopter before you let crash your baby into the pack of enemies.
“NO! (Y/N)!”, the men are devastated to see Valkyrie go down knowing exactly you must be in the helicopter. Their hearts shatter. They couldn’t save you.
“Boys, come on! We need to be at the evac point in five minutes. Eagle 3 will get us!”, you stumble around the house corner quite out of breath. “You are alive!”, they can’t believe their eyes.
“Not much longer!”, you grab the first one by the hand to drag them into the direction where Eagle 3 will collect you. Once in the helicopter you are all safe and sound for now and on the way back to the base.
“(Y/N) … you crashed Valkyrie … for us?”, Gaz looks at you with his big puppy eyes. You only shrug with your shoulder not trying to think about the helicopter trashed into thousand pieces, “I really don’t want to talk about her.”
It might sound strange, but you are mourning Valkyrie like the helicopter would have been a real soldier. You had spent so much time with her. She was part of your family.
Of course, the team would make it up to you as good as they can. So, one day Gaz comes up to you with a blindfold, “Put it on.” You shake your head immediately, “Not for anything in this world.”
He defeats you with your own weapons. The puppy eyes. You put the blindfold on and get dragged over the whole base until you lose track of where you are actually going. “Oh my god, Gaz! I’m getting really sick.”
“TADA!”, he pulls down the blindfold. For a second you were blinded from the sunshine, but then it hits you. “We can’t give you Valkyrie back, but how about Valkyrie II!”, Soap exclaims pointing at the new helicopter. The whole team looks so damn proud of themselves for gifting you an even better helicopter.
“Thank you, boys. You are too sweet”, you get wrapped up in a big bear hug. “So, you know, Laswell doesn’t want you to know she gave us the money to purchase the new helicopter”, Price tells you with a smile on his lips.
“I chose the interior of the helicopter and the color!”, Gaz exclaims and points at Valkyrie II.
“I was responsible for the weapons! I can show you everything!”, Soap adds.
“I coordinated everything”, Price shrugs his shoulders.
You look at Ghost. He holds up an air freshener, “I want it to smell good.”
Okay, So I'm the only girl on my team at work. And I'm telling y’all, regardless of age or relationship status, guys absolutely get excited when you give them stuff. Even if they act like they don't. All I can do is imagine how this would work with the 141.
Like imagine you make Gaz a bracelet. It's nothing too crazy, just a single strand of green pony beads. It didn't even take a lot to make it. Just some small, homemade thing that you give to him while you've got some down time between tasks.
He absolutely lights up, smiling wide, eyes bright. He thanks you with a side hug and a kiss to your temple. It's more than what you were expecting, but you're not gonna complain.
You don't think much of it, and move on with your business, nearly forgetting about the bracelet… until Soap interrupts you at the gym, demanding to know why Gaz got one and not him.
You didn't think he wanted one, and you certainly didn't think he'd be so distraught over something so silly. So, you promise him a bracelet, and you deliver it to him the next day. A single strand blue bracelet.
Johnny's ecstatic, grinning like a kid on Christmas. He gives you a bear hug, and a messy kiss to your cheek, practically singing your praise as he leaves.
Price is next. But thankfully you don't give him a chance to ask. You had noticed the way his gaze lingers on the bracelets that Gaz and Soap have, the small frown he's got after talking to them.
You make him a yellow one, and drop it off on his desk with some paperwork. No need for all the fanfare or even the chance he might reject it. He doesn't. He does bring you your favorite drink, his way of saying thanks. And the yellow bracelet is on his wrist the whole time.
Ghost is last, only because you didn't think he'd want one. But ever since Price got his, Ghost has been waiting with baited breath for one. He's not going to outright ask, will even scoff if Soap or Gaz brag about it. But he wants one!
It's late, when he drops by your barrack, quiet when you open the door. It takes him a moment to gather the courage. But eventually, he holds his hand out, asking where his bracelet is.
When you admit you hadn't made him one, he's a little hurt. You're teammates. Why wouldn't he want one? But you invite him into your barrack, letting him sit with you as you make the bracelet. It's just black, his color of course, but he leaves, smiling under the mask.
Oh, and when you show up for the next briefing with your own bracelet, a repeating pattern of green, blue, yellow and black, no one comments on it. But it's hard to ignore the way they all smile at you, a soft look in their eyes.
every once in a awhile this will pop up and make me laugh all over again
Konig x y/n
If I reblog you it’s so I can keep track of post I want to read again and really liked. Also if you get spammed liked/rebloggged I am a nocturnal college student and I apologize.
A Forgotten Birthday
"How old is y/n then?" The new recruit is always trying to flirt with Soap by asking him gossip and facts about the team.
"Twenty-six." He answers her so easily. It feels like a stab to your heart all over again.
"Twenty-seven." You correct, voice conspicuously devoid of emotion.
"No, your birthday isn't until May, and it's..." His face pales. He whips around to look at you. "We missed it. How did we miss it?" You shrug, not meeting his eyes.
"Some things just aren't important." Your food tastes like sawdust. You give up trying to eat and toss it in the trash on the way out. Maybe hitting the gym will help. No, you know he's going to tell everyone, and you don't want to deal with their pity-filled stares and questions about making it up to you now that they've finally remembered.
Running the trail system near the base is a favorite of yours normally. Today, it isn't relaxing, but anger-inducing. You were on a mission in a forest just like this across the world for your birthday. It was almost two weeks after the day that you got back, and you eagerly waited for the surprise party that Soap, Gaz, and Price always set up for each person's birthday, but... nothing. After three weeks, you gave up all hope for one and steeled yourself to give nothing away. Can't let them see you hurt over a stupid birthday. Can't make the team lose focus or lose your own. You're an adult, after all.
Zoned out, you don't realize how far you have run until it's nearly too dark to see the path. Sitting on a stump, you give in and have a cry about the whole thing. Self-pity taking you over for just a few minutes. Wiping your eyes, you startle when a hand touches your back. You leap up and move to a defensive crouch only to see Ghost's balaclava looming out of the darkness at you.
"Luv, what's wrong?"
"N-nothing. Just, I don't know. Needed a cry, I guess. Didn't think anyone would see me."
"You certainly didn't see anyone. I've been running behind you for nearly five minutes. I could have been anyone. You need to be more aware of things." Your hurt and confusion turns to anger at the lecture he is spouting off.
"Ya, I guess I do need to be more aware. Clearly, I am the problem." You stomp away from him, starting back to base, muttering to yourself about transfers to other teams who might care more. Ghost wraps his hand around your arm and pulls you to a stop.
"What, I make one comment, and you're just going to quit on us? What is actually going on, pet? Someone piss you off or something? Do I need to knock teeth out?"
"I... everyone forgot," you mumble. Ghost glances around to ensure you're alone and tugs you against his chest, rubbing your back. "I was in the shit and when I got back, nobody remembered my birthday." He freezes, hands cradling you.
"They forgot? How could they forget? Your birthday is always at the beginning of the mission season. I thought you guys had it when I was down range. I was gutted to have missed it. Sent you flowers as a sorry." His grip tightens to an almost painful level, and you grip back, remembering the beautiful bouquet that had been left for you without a note. "We will just have to make Soap and Captain pay for forgetting then." You glance up and see his eyes glimmering at you in the moonlight.
"We should probably find our way home first."
"Home, that sounds good." His phone suddenly goes off, making you jump. "Group text. 'SOS emergency meeting. Do not tell y/n.' They ain't even tryin' to be subtle at this point." He guides the two of you down the path, walking quick and assured. Within minutes, he is getting an avalanche of phone calls and texts to the point that he is tempted to throw it into the woods around you, but you turn it off and slip it into his pocket for him.
"Last time you threw one and broke it, Captain said he would glue the new one to your hand, and I'm pretty sure he was serious." Ghost ruffles your hair.
"That was a private meeting, Luv. How did you hear him say that?"
You scoff. "You'd be lucky if the entire fuckin' base didn't hear him tell you that with how loud he was shouting." He just chuckles and guides you both home. He drops you off at the women's barracks and storms into the team meeting, slamming the door into the wall.
"Finally you show up! We forgot y/n's birthday and we are planning a party to make up for it."
"No. You are not."
"What?! We can't just ignore it. We forgot! It's been months!"
"You're not going to force her to accept a pity party to make you feel better about what you did."
"Ghost, I know you hate parties, but she still deserves to know we care."
"So, show her. Before she makes good on transferring out. But no party. I will handle her party from now on since you fucks can't be trusted to remember." He walks out without another word, the room behind him in chaos.
"Why is he acting like he didn't forget, too?" Gaz asks incredulously.
"Because the bawbag didn't. He sent the mystery flowers that made her cry. It was right after he got back from down range. Can't believe I didn't catch it earlier."
Price stubs out his cigar. "So, no party. And she is thinking about leaving. We really cocked this one up, boys." He stands and walks to the door, pausing on the threshold. "No flowers, no gifts. Make it up to her. And Soap," he turns to look the Scottish man in the eye, "sleep with one eye open. Ghost is absolutely going to make us pay for making her cry." He walks away, no pep in his step, now.
"Cry? How does he know she cried?" Gaz seems baffled by the Captain's surety.
"Course she cried. Everyone does when they are forgotten or abandoned."
"Ghost doesn't, though. We never celebrate his birthday."
"We being the key there, mate. Remember last month when she shoved a new set of gloves and a mask at him? Told him the ones he was wearing were manky as fuck. That was his birthday gift." He runs a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm off. Need t'think about how I'm gonna beg forgiveness from both of 'em."
Hogtied: Part 4
You're surprised the next day to see all of the men sitting at breakfast as though nothing is wrong. You sit with them, trying not to make it obvious that you are checking their injuries, only to look directly in Ghost's eyes when you try to casually glance over.
"We're fine, Luv. Be off for a while for recovery, but we are fine." You huff at him. "You know I worry about all of you. Especially with not being able to do the work myself. Bit of a control freak, I suppose."
Soap grins, "never woulda guessed you liked being in charge, hen. Coulda fooled me." You roll your eyes and turn back to your plate, happy they are in good spirits.
You ask them their plans for the day, but they don't have any beyond relaxing in front of the telly. With a nod, you agree with that. "Lunch is on me, then. Already owe the Captain butter chicken, anyway. I will set up an order, just call in what you want and they'll deliver it." Every set of eyes near you is suddenly laser focused. "Umm... I ate his butter chicken, and he caught me with it."
"Lordy, ye dinnae?!" At your nod, the men around you all start talking at once.
"I told him I would replace it, and he let me eat. But good god, you lot need to clean out that fridge more often. I went through so many gross leftovers trying to find something edible." Ghost smirks.
"Who's leftovers were you going to try first?" Your eye twitches as you contemplate if you should lie or start running, and you see his eye zero in on it.
"Nae, ye dinnae! Ye dinnae!"
"Shut up, Soap! It was yours, Ghost. I figured you ordered the best food, so I checked yours first!" With that, you stand up and run from the hall, Ghost leaping up to chase after you. You duck into a closing door just to the right of the dining hall and sprint to the other end, barely making it around the corner before he is onto you. He wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. "The food was bad! I binned it! I didn't even eat your food!"
"You tried to take it, that's guilty enough for me." He carries you to the rec room with the rest of the men are waiting and tosses you gently on a couch. "As punishment for raiding our fridge, you have to sit and watch movies with us."
"Can I at least go get my book?" You knew the answer, and he knew you knew, so he ignored you. "Fine, but I deserve the option to nap if you pick something shite."
"What do you mean by that? We don't pick shite."
"Time Traveler's Wife. We all cried over it, and if I find out who picked it... never getting numbing before stitches again!" Laughter spread around the room at your rant.
"Then what is your favorite one," asked Soap.
"Something with explosions, maybe some angst, oh a holiday movie! Die Hard. Die Hard is good." The whole room groaned. That was always your go-to answer.
"Doc, I know that ain't your favorite. C'mon, I know you hate personal questions, but ya gotta at least tell us your favorite movie on movie day." You shift uncomfortably on the couch and shrink into your, no König's hoodie a bit.
"I... umm... I like Gladiator. It's one of the only ones that I re-watch." The men are quiet at your answer, and Ghost squeezes your shoulder gently.
"Gladiator up first then." You rest your hand on his briefly with a small smile. Ghost and Soap flop down on either side of you, squeezing you between them. The movie starts, and you sit forward on the couch, nervous. Ghost leans forward and tugs you back, pulling you to lean against his side. "You can nap if you want to, but relax. You've been anxious since before we left."
"I could tell this mission was going to be a doozy. I hate being right." You watch the entire movie, relaxing against him with his hand rubbing your back gently.
When it ends, you sit up and stretch, glancing over and seeing Soap sleeping with his head tipped oddly. You stand carefully and readjust him, so he is sitting more comfortably. When you get back from peeing and grabbing a drink, you see that he has taken over most of the couch, leaving no room next to Ghost, who also looks like he is about to nod off.
When you edge back toward the door, Ghost wags his finger at you, so you look for an open seat. Your eyes alight on König, sprawled across a smaller couch by himself.
"Budge up a bit. Soap kicked me out of the cuddle pile." He chuckles and moves his leg to let you sit down.
"We make our own cuddle pile then." He lifts his arm so you can lay against his chest. The next movie is one you haven't seen yet. You only make it about halfway through before falling asleep. The smell of Indian food wakes you up. When you go to sit up, König's arm tightens around you, holding you against him as he sleeps. You debate pushing free, but opt to relax against him, falling back asleep. When you wake next, your body is sore from the shit couch, but you feel cocooned in warmth. Rubbing your face deeper into the warm has it moving away as König gently sits you up. As soon as he lets go, you press against him again.
"So warm... safe..." You feel his body melt against yours.
"Sorry, König. Should've warned ya that she is a level ten clingy cuddler when she falls asleep. Can't pry her off until she's actually awake."
"My back hurts," he says in response. That's all you need to wake up. You sit up, concerned.
"Has it been hurting all day or just since I came over? Can you wiggle your toes? Is there any numbness?" He just stares at your full 180 attitude while Ghost groans.
"The only thing that can get her to stop cuddling: Doctor Mode. Never mention a health issue if you want cuddles, bruv. She can't switch it off hardly at all."
"Do you have-?" König rearranges himself to lay on his back and tug you into his chest.
"Relax, Schatz. I am fine. We will watch more movies together." You relax against him again.
It only lasts a few minutes before you hear thrashing and yelling. You scramble up and see Soap fighting in his sleep. Everyone is standing well back, but Ghost looks torn. You push through the crowd and dodge Ghost's arms to carefully climb in Soap's lap, wrapping your arms around his torso to act as a stabilizer. You try to dodge his wild thrashing, feeling his fist clip your face as you move close to him. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck to keep him from hitting you again and begin singing quietly to him.
"Can ye no hush your weepin'
All the wee lambs are sleepin'
Birdies are nestlin' nestlin' together
Dream Angus is hirplin' oer the heather
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell
Hush ye my baby and sleep without fear
Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear.
List' to the curlew cryin'
Faintly the echos dyin'
Even the birdies and the beasties are sleepin'
But my bonny bairn is weepin' weepin'"
Slowly, Soap calms, and you are able to relax your hold. He cries silently into your shoulder as you sing the lullaby through a second time. You pull back and rest a hand on his cheek. "Are ye alright noo, laddie?" He nods, laying his hand over yours. "Good, because I need to make sure you didn't tear anything up."
He growls and doesn't let loose your hand, staring at your face. "First ye'll tell me where ye git yon blue keeker."
"Ghost skelped me. Said I was too mouthy during the film." You pull your hand back with a grin and scoot back in his lap to tug up his shirt, checking that he hasn't popped any stitches.
"Dinnae be telling me havers."
"Ah wud never tell ye havers. Ahm a saint of a Catholic." Laughter bursts around the room, many knowing you were not Catholic at all and having heard many lies come from you to protect them or convince them to do something they hate.
"Ye dinnae have it when scran was here. Ye were sleepin on yon big yin." You shrug and glance over at the food.
"Well, ye look bonnie." You stand with Ghost's help, the grumble of your tummy making him chuckle.
"Go eat, luv. We got him from here."
"Ghost, did you hit the wee doctor? I ken ye dinnae, but-"
"English, Bubbles. And if she said I did, then I must have. The doctor is a saint of a Catholic, after all." Soap sputters, unable to form any words.
Walking over to the table, you spot your food, König's and... the Captain's. He didn't come get it. You huff and carry it to his office, knocking firmly.
"Enter," Captain Price's voice floats through the door. Opening it, you see he is in a meeting with another man.
"Sir, you didn't grab your lunch, so I figured I would deliver it." He nods his thanks and gestures for you to bring it to him.
"Since when are delivery drivers allowed to bring food directly to you? And when did they start dressing so terribly?" You glance down at the hoodie draped over you and open your mouth to respond. Captain's voice cuts you off.
"Sir, this is the doctor I was speaking about. It is merely her day off." He somehow balances censure of the other man with respect in a way that has you in awe of his skill.
"Hmph. In my day, women were expected to dress up for the men around them, on duty or off." You bristle, and Captain tries to intervene again.
"We do not police what the men wear on their days off. We certainly won't with the women we work alongside. Now-"
"I'm just saying female doctors need to have a little self-respect and demand enough respect to be obeyed by the men." Price could not be fast enough to silence your barked laughter.
"Sir, with all due respect, the men don't care at all what I am wearing as long as I am fixing their injuries. This hoodie you are so dismissive of is but a sign of the respect of the men. I wonder, how would you convince a heavily muscled, 16 stone man to submit to having the mask removed that he considers part and parcel to who he is? One that less than a dozen living men have seen under since he first donned it."
He snorts and says, "Enough orderlies will force any man to submit to anything."
"And thusly you have destroyed any and all trust that man has in you or the medical profession. I have convinced that man, peacefully, to remove his mask. Built up trust over time to convince him and many others to give a full and unabridged medical history by allowing them the right to privacy. Hell, I have convinced a prisoner that came here hogtied due to how dangerous he was to not only allow me to treat him without needing restraints but to allow the removal of his mask. That man has become one of our greatest assets, in part, due to the respect afforded to him, which started in the medical bay. So, to hear you say that brute force and dressing pretty are the only two ways to gain respect around here is not just inappropriate but sets a dangerous precedent for the men we serve. Such a precedent, I will not allow to take root in my clinic." Silence fills the room after you finish speaking. The man turns to Price.
"I'm convinced. Promotion approved." He signs a piece of paper on the desk. Captain grins at your stunned and confused face.
"Agreed. That was quite a moving statement, Major. Soon to be Lieutenant Colonel, I suppose." Your eyes narrow in suspicion as you look back and forth between them.
"Sir, am I to be expected to leave and work in a different facility, then? If so, I do not want this promotion."
"You'll have to go where assigned, doc. That's above my paygrade to influence."
"Yes, and your opinion on a promotion doesn't matter. If you are promoted, you will work where assigned until the end of your contract."
"I won't leave my men. It would take many steps back. It was jokingly mentioned not long ago, and they nearly mutinied."
"They will get over it." The man seems smug, and it is ticking you off something fierce.
"That's fine then, Captain. I am sure my parents will be thrilled to hear that I no longer wish to work for the military."
He winces, "Now, doll. There's no reason to go involving your parents. I'm sure we can work something out."
"Parents? The military does not care bout the opinions of parents." He scoffs at your threat.
"They do when they have money and political favors. Captain, I will do everything in my power to stay, including sabotaging a promotion. If you force my hand, I will find a way out rather than have to start over somewhere else. Please, do not push me on this, I love working here."
You are begging at this point. Leaving your men would be devastating. You've tried to stay under the radar ever since finding out that promotions mean leaving, even to the point of refusing to record the advanced training and techniques you have taken and the ones you have pioneered.
"I understand, Major. We will discuss this further later." You know a dismissal when you hear it.
"Yes, sir."
The next thing you know, you are back in the rec room, sitting in front of your food. Ghost appears at your side and nudges you gently.
"What happened, Luv?"
"I got promoted, I think. Maybe."
"Woo-"
"Shut up. It isn't a good thing."
"Why not? You are moving from Major to Lieutenant Corporal! That is great! They've been ignoring you for too long." He starts to stand, and you drag him back down.
"If I get promoted, I have to leave. I-i won't be here anymore. That's why I've been hiding from it."
"Oh," he says as he settles back in. "You've been avoiding more money and shit to stay with us? But why?" You nod and shove a piece of food in your mouth, trying to get a bit of time to think.
"I just... I really love working with you guys. It's exactly the job I wanted since I had to be a doctor. Working with adrenaline junkies who save the world, ya know?" You sigh and lean against his shoulder. "I really like the relationships I've built here. You guys are respectful and kind. Female officers don't usually much respect."
He rubs your arm gently. "Heard and understood, luv. We will figure this out together, then. Eat up, and we can watch another movie before dinner."
You wake up later sandwiched between Ghost and Soap on the couch, each wrapped around you somehow. Your last thought before falling asleep again is the way this feels like home.
The next week, Captain Price sets a meeting with you. When you tell Ghost, he immediately wants to go with you. Despite turning him down every time and refusing to tell him when, he catches the closing door and silently stands behind your chair. The Captain stares at him for a long moment before opting to ignore him completely.
"I've arranged this meeting to discuss your upcoming promotion and what it means for you and the men."
"I understand, sir. I can have the files updated and ready for transfer in about two weeks. I will need to meet one on one with each man to ensure the transferred files meet with his approval based on the policy in effect." Captain Price looks surprised.
"You don't intend to pass on the full histories to a replacement?"
"No, I am afraid they will be accidentally dropped into a paper shredder, and there will be an incident with a small bin fire just off base. Quite unfortunate, but not preventable." You keep your gaze passive and meet the Captain's own look evenly. "I will ensure that the approved files do not meet with such an end. I will also endeavor to provide a full list of the procedures and techniques that we have pioneered under my command so that there is consistency for the men. They do so hate change."
"I hope the former will not be necessary, and I implore you to implement the latter. As an aside, in speaking further with the RAMC, we have come to an agreement for you to stay here at this post indefinitely. It was deemed necessary to current and future missions to maintain consistency in medical care. I was asked to pass on a message: All doctors are required to record their advanced training and education, and thus, it is expected that you will update your records accordingly. I believe that covers everything." His grave face suddenly breaks into a smirk, just as you begin crying with joy.
"Thank you, Captain! Thank you!" He stands and moves around his desk to wrap you in a hug.
"You did good, doll. I am so proud of the work you have done, and now it will be recognized by everyone else." He smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now, please do those updates. I called in some big favors and made some promises to work this out." All you can do is nod before you are pulled from the Captain and crushed against Ghost's chest.
"Woohoo! You're staying with us, luv!" He drags you to the door with a bare minimum of respect for Captain Price, refusing to let you stop and say goodbye. "Time to go tell everyone. We will have a party!"
"I've never seen you so excited for anything, Ghost. Slow down, I'm gonna trip!" He huffs playfully but slows down.
"I wanted to get you out of there before the Captain decided he needed to address what you so casually stated, but it is exciting to keep you on. I have been trying to decide how to break into your office for those files for the last week." You stop and frown.
"Don't do that. It would be dangerous to try to steal them." He cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, dangerous. You seriously don't think all I have protecting them are a few flimsy filing cabinet locks after how long it took to get that information. There is life and death information in them. I called in a few favors to build a security system of sorts for it."
"That's... that's sexy as hell, luv. You are one loyal woman." He stares down at you for several long moments, starting when someone clears a throat a little ways away.
"Sorry to break up the party. I heard you had your meeting today. How did it go?" König asks innocently, making you glare at Ghost.
"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!" He holds his hands up in surrender, backing away.
"I was pretty sure you weren't leaving, promotion or not. We just want to celebrate with you."
"Ghost! Lech mich am Arsch! Bastardo! Schluckspecht!"
"Come, mein Schatz. It is good that we celebrate now. You are staying, and we do not have to stage a rebellion." König picks you up as though you are just a child, carrying you away from a laughing Ghost even as you yell more insults. You want to fight away from him, but you can't stop from pressing closer. You can barely stop yourself from nuzzling against his shoulder. It takes a minute then for you to realize that he has turned away from the rec room, which is where you're sure the party is supposed to be.
"König, where are you taking me?" You catch your traitorous fingers rubbing at the back of his neck under the mask. "Sorry."
"I like your hands on me, meine Prinzessin. I wanted to talk to you without prying eyes and ears..." You rub your fingers against his collarbone through his shirt. "Yes, I like that." You blush and lean forward, stopping just in front of his lips. He cups the back of your head, closing the distance and kissing you through his mask.
You feel your back pressed against a wall and hear the jingle of keys. König has brought you to his quarters. He carries you in, kicking the door shut and locking it. Laying you on the bed, he says, "Tell me what you want, Schatz. I need to know."
"I want this, König. I want you. Bitte." He quickly strips off his clothes and mask, giving you space to do the same.
"Gut. I will fuck you, then I will take you to the party as meine Prinzessin... if you can walk." He chuckles as he climbs on the bed, pushing your legs up and laying his cock against your stomach. "It will be a tight fit. Might take all night to loosen up you up." He is excited, talking fast and teasing you with his fingers already.
"Promise?" Your question is loaded, but he nods happily.
"Yes, Prinzessin. You will take the whole thing before the night is over. I will make sure of it." He leans down close to your ear, "I will make you mine forever."
I have to choose! NooOOo!
Kleine Schatten
He was frustrated. The little shadow was still following him. Sometimes openly and other times, hiding and peeking around corners, usually after he has blown up on someone else. He works to control his temper, wanting to tempt them closer before he goes on the offensive. When you get about ten feet behind him, he suddenly spins on his heel and covers the distance between you in a split second, taking just two strides before he picks you up and pivots again, pinning you to the wall. He leans in close, eyes hard. "Why are you following me?"
You gulp, trying hard to meet his eyes. "I was told to, Colonel. It's part of my training. S-sorry." You barely managed to whisper the words, voice failing you by the end.
He freezes, grip gentling as he lets you slide down the wall, supporting you when your legs would buckle. Crouching down to be at your level, he asks, "Who told you to do this and why?"
It takes you several tries to answer, but König waits quietly for you to speak, not rushing or admonishing you. He gently rubs your arms in an effort to comfort you. "Sergeant Soap. He is training me in scouting and stealth."
"How is he training you, Kleine? I have not seen him assisting you." You fidget under his glare, and his eyes soften. He stands, "Let us talk more in my office. It is less exposed than the hall. More comfortable." König leads, and you follow, his shadow once again. He locks the door behind you and sits behind his desk, gesturing you to a seat. He sits quietly, watching the clock. You open your mouth, and he shakes his head. After several minutes, he turns to you. "So, he was not watching over you at a distance. I had hoped he would reveal himself."
"He... he made it quite clear that he had better things to do," you whisper sadly. "He said stealth was better learned in action, following a target in their home environment, and I needed to learn how to blend in while scouting." He wonders at your continued whispering, logging it away while he focuses on the information.
"I am sorry, Kleine. He did you a disservice. What would you like me to do about it? I can report him if you want, but retaliation is likely." You're already shaking your head.
"No, I would rather learn on my own than try to get him in trouble... I don't know where to start, though. I can tell I'm crap at this."
König snorts. "You are bad, Kleine Schatten, but I am willing to teach you. You will learn to sneak up on anyone by the time I am done. I am afraid that I can not easily teach you how to blend in. I prefer to stand apart and remain apart. That will not work for you, but we will find a path forward."
You excitedly nod. "I would love that!" Your voice is still a hoarse whisper, but you could swear he smiles back under the mask at your excitement.
"Ok, first we will..." He lays out the general plan, assigning you several books and films as teaching material. You tear through them and report back in a few days. He is pleasantly surprised, assuming he had given you at least a week of material. Your determination warms his heart and makes him even more determined to help.
Over the next few weeks, you learn more than you ever knew was possible about stealth and working covertly. He ensures that you put the lessons into practice, practicing stalking him. You find yourself getting better, surprisingly fast, and he praises your quick improvement while encouraging you to improve even more. You've never felt so driven by so few words.
In one of your talks, you admit that hand to hand is not a skill you excel at, and he assigns you sparring practice with him each morning while the others are eating breakfast. You lose, constantly. But he shows you how a successful move feels during each session, and you slowly improve, even managing to get the upper hand for a few moments once. His praise after that round makes you light up, the words repeating in your head all day long.
Soon, König is teaching you every skill he knows and you are teaching him the few things you know, showing him how to speed read, and as you learn, teaching him how to blend into the background better. The latter skill is his favorite as he loves scaring the other men on the team, especially Soap with his newfound stealth. He imitates a pillar rather successfully you find.
König has assigned you to avoid Soap completely as your new stealth mission. He wants to see how long until Soap comes looking for you. A full three months after he takes you under his wing, Soap finally asks König where his shadow is during lunch. König decides to have a little fun at his expense. "What shadow? I got rid of a spy a couple months back that kept following me around," he says calmly. He watches Soap's face blanch and König stands with his tray, striding off quickly. Soap tries to follow him but trips on his face. He lays there for a full thirty seconds, confused, before looking down and seeing his shoelaces tied together.
Your exit is unremarked upon and nearly unnoticed, but König is waiting outside in an alcove, a grin under his mask. "Kleine Schatten, that was a good trick. I think your lessons of sneaking are at their end." You try to hide the disappointed look on your face, but he chucks your chin gently. "Do not worry. You still need remedial lessons for other things. Your previous taskmasters were poor at best." He winks when you look up at him with your blinding smile.
Just then, Soap bursts out the door with Ghost following behind him. Soap is so focused that he storms past where the alcove you are standing, hurrying toward Captain Price's office. Ghost stops on the sidewalk near you. "Good job on the shoelaces, you two. Mind how close you get to the target and those around them. Your body heat is detectable for those of us on alert."
"Yes, sir," you whisper.
Ghost turns his head to look directly at you and König. "Thank you, König. I will deal with Soap. You, though. How is your marksmanship? Given how many shite teachers there are around here, I am worried."
You smile. "Better than my explosives work, but worse than my hand to hand combat."
Ghost smirks under his mask. "Well, we can't have that, can we? I will coordinate with König to teach you. I know he is good, but just as he is better at hand to hand, I am better at marksmanship. No offense, Bruder." With that, he walks to catch up to where he can hear Soap going off, likely in Captain Price's office.
König exchanges a look with you. "It seems you must make a decision, Kleine." You look at him puzzled. "What kind of mask will the newest sniper wear?"
"Sniper? I want to be an insertion specialist now."
He grins down at the shadow he has become attached to. "We shall see, Kleine Schatten. We shall see."
Staying In
König has only been there a few weeks when he overhears Ghost and Soap discussing plans after work.
"Mind if I tag along? I'd love a drink at a local place." König asks innocently enough, feeling like he has built up a bit of a friendship with them.
They shift nervously before Soap blurts out, "Sorry mate. You're a bit intimidating. We are going to pick up girls tonight, so you can't go." König is hurt by their honesty, but it isn't the first time he's been told he's too big for something.
"Oh, right. Yeah, I just want a drink, anyway. I'm fine sitting it out. No worries." He stiffens his posture to hide his embarassment and walks into the nearby rec room. He stops in his tracks when he sees you draped across the couch, settling in to watch a movie. He debates leaving, but you pat the couch, not even glancing at him. When he walks over, you lift your legs to give him room.
"Wanna stay in and watch the telly, König? I've got a bootleg of that new action film that comes out next week. Not even in theaters, yet." You turn your head to smile up at him. "Got popcorn and spiked lemonade, too. Just don't tell anyone. They don't think I drink since I won't go out to the bar."
"Uhh, yeah. That sounds way better than the bar." He sits carefully next to you, trying to scrunch up at the end of the couch. You set your legs across his lap and hit play.
"Relax, I don't bite unless you ask for it." You shoot him a wink as he coughs in surprise before turning to watch the movie. Slowly, he relaxes into the couch, snacking alongside you and enjoying the movie despite some of the weird cuts in it. When it ends, he happily chats with you about all the things they did wrong and the few things they got right. It's nearly midnight when Soap and Ghost stumble in, having struck out like usual.
"What's this, then? Gettin all cozy with yer teammate?" Ghost sneers at both of you. At least, you think he does under his mask. You just shrug.
"We work together. We're supposed to be cozy, idiot. Strike out at the bar again, then?" He shrugs off the question, unwilling to admit anything.
"Ah, well. Good night, guys. I'm gonna go crash. It was nice talking with you, König. I never get to watch movies with the team anymore." He acknowledges you with a wave, leaving to his own quarters at the same time.
The next weekend is the same and the next and the next. König doesn't even bother asking to go out again, realizing how much more fun it is to relax with you. By the third movie, he sits and rubs your feet. The fourth was full of jump scares and had you pressed into his side. You don't remember the fifth because you spent the entire time laying on his chest, kissing him. The sixth movie was an official date, and you let him take you back to his quarters. Stumbling out with a satisfied grin the next morning, you ignore the stunned looks on Soap and Ghost.
As König watches you walk away, he decides that being too intimidating to go out to bars was the best thing that ever happened to him.
The Couch
Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.
You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.
"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.
The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.
"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.
Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.
It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.
A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.
"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.
It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.
"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."
"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.
"Then, how did you convince them?"
"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.
"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.
"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."
"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.
"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."
"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.
"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"
"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."
You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"
"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.
"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"
His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."
"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."
Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.
The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.
The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.
"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.
"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.
"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.
"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.
"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.
"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.
"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."
You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."
"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.
"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."
He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."
"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.
"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."
"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.
"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.
"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."
You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."
The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."
"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.
"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."
"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.
"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.
"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.
"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."
"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.
"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.
"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.
"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"
"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.
"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.
"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."