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heirloommtomatoes · 4 years

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you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

��Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it.

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare.

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to.

He kisses him because he likes him.

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

#reposting this in a better format i think #gallavich #gallavich fic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #why is read more not working brruhhh this is so long im sorry #IS it working??? idk #if it isnt #sorry!!!!#my bOYS~!!!!#my writing

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yelena-bellova · 5 years

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We’re Not Afraid of You - Avengers/Reader Imagine

Summary: You’re a new member of the Avengers, but they can’t figure out why you seem to be keeping everyone at arm’s length. All is revealed when you accompany them on your first mission…

Requested by anon: Can I request platonic AvengersxReader f imagine where the reader is new to the avengers but is super closed off around them in the compound but when they go on a mission for the first time she is a super badass hero & shocks everyone with her powers.once they go back to the compound she goes back to closed off which has the avengers trying to see why she’s like that & turns out that she’s scared of herself & bc she doesn’t want to hurt anyone .

Warnings: One curse word, a little violence…

Word Count: 2,584

Note: The reader’s powers are kind of a combination between Wanda’s and Jean Grey’s. I tried to give every Avenger some dialogue but clearly failed with Vision because he has zero lines haha Hope you enjoy! :)

The Avengers were gathered in the main living room of the compound for their monthly team bonding night. This month Tony had decided was a movie night and there was currently a heated debate happening over which one they’d watch. “Cap, you are not making us sit through another black and white 1940’s snooze-fest.” Tony argued, holding up Steve’s suggested title. “Well, we’re definitely not watching whatever it was you suggested.” Natasha chimed in, she and Clint were sitting on the floor, her legs draped over his lap. “What’s wrong with the one I picked?” Sam called out from the kitchen, helping Wanda and Vision carry the massive amount of food to the coffee table. They laid out brownies, bowls of popcorn, bags of candy and a box of pop-tarts reserved especially for Thor. “Because the last time we watched the one you suggest, Sam, everyone was passed out cold within the first hour.” Tony retorted. “Well excuse me for enjoying the occasional rom-com.” Sam quipped, grabbing a handful of popcorn and flopping on the couch next to Steve.

“Alright, alright…Bruce and Tony had the best suggestions, let’s just take a vote.” Steve spoke up. “All in favor of Tony’s, raise your hand.” Thor, Rhodey, Sam, and Vision raised their hands. “All in favor of Bruce’s, raise your hand.” Steve called. Him, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda raised their hands. “Fat load that did…” Tony chuckled.

Throughout all this, you had been hiding in your room, as usual. You were their newest recruit, only having been on the team for a month, and you hadn’t adjusted yet to your new life. You had been on the run almost your entire life until S.H.I.E.L.D. picked you up after having seen your powers and recruited you to be an Avenger. You had hesitated greatly, you had always operated on your own so becoming part of a team gave you major anxiety. Because of how much paperwork and training it took to be cleared to work with the Avengers, you hadn’t even been on a mission with them yet. You got along with your new teammates, but you didn’t want to get too close to them. The spacious bedroom that you got to call yours was where you spent most of your time. Unfortunately, the mini fridge you had bought had run dry of food, so you were forced to venture out into the kitchen to restock it. You tried to tiptoe in unnoticed, but that was impossible to do around a group of superheroes. They all immediately turned when they heard you come in, directing all the attention you didn’t want onto you. “y/n! You get to be the deciding vote…” Tony exclaimed.

You froze, not wanting to get drawn into whatever was going on but knowing Tony wasn’t going to let you go. “My Oscar winner or Bruce’s coming of age indie nonsense? And don’t allow yourself to be swayed, but you’re looking particularly beautiful today.”

Groans erupted from the team at Tony’s shameless attempt at trying to get you to side with him, but their eyes still rested on you. You stuttered a little, anxiety starting to run through your head, this is exactly what you didn’t want… “I-I don’t really have an opinion either way. I’m not feeling too good so I’m just gonna stay in tonight.” you lied through your teeth. You turned quietly and walked towards the fridge, grabbing some food you had stashed in the back. You could feel the team still staring at you, knowing they could feel your hostility towards them, you knew you had to throw them a bone... “But I hear the one Bruce suggested is really good.” you mumbled towards them.

Cheers and groans mingled in the air as Tony reluctantly slid the DVD into the player, by the time they turned around to thank you for your help, you had already made a run back to your room. “Is it just me or does she not like us all that much?” Bruce asked the room.

“I thought it was just me, I didn’t realize we were so objectionable.” Rhodey said. “Give her a break, guys. This is the first time she’s ever been a part of the team. She needs time to adjust.” Steve explained, he understood the feeling of being out of place better than anyone. “And we shouldn’t push her. She’ll come around in her own time…” Natasha added, knowing exactly what it felt like to be on your own and then thrust into a team environment. Her heart went out for you and she wished she could help you in some way.

The team collectively shrugged their shoulders and continued on with their night, but leaving an empty seat on the couch just in case you decided to join them. You had chosen instead to spend your night on the rooftop, your favorite spot in the compound second to your room. You gazed out at the dark landscaping, looking off into the distance to the see the lights of the New York City skyline. You sat back in your chair, doing your best to try and relax. You prayed that the team had moved on with their night and weren’t still thinking about you…

ONE WEEK LATER

“Romanoff, y/l/n, where are you?” Steve whispered into his communicator. “3rd level, looks empty but we’re gonna check it out just in case.” Natasha replied, you walked alongside her carefully down the abandoned hall. This was your first mission with the team and saying you were nervous was an understatement. It was simple enough; checking out an abandoned Hydra base to make sure that all the rats had gone down with the ship and see if there were any files left over to retrieve. The whole team had come just in case the report you’d gotten had been terribly wrong. So far there had been nothing, but you got a sinking feeling in your stomach that you and Natasha weren’t alone.

“Sure you don’t want a gun?” she asked as she continued walking down the hall, her weapon drawn. You forgot that no one on the team had seen you use your powers, so when you declined to take any weapons with you, their confusion was justified. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Trust me.” you whispered. “Wait, I’ve got something. Heat signature headed towards the building!” Tony called over the comms.

“GET OUT OF THERE!”

Natasha and you started running towards a nearby window and leaped out of it just in time sending shards of glass everywhere. Something had hit the building and caused a huge explosion right where you had been standing. You both fell through the air, expecting to hit the ground harshly, but Sam sprang into action and caught you both. He set you both on the ground quickly and you turned to see a swarm of unexpected Hydra agents charging towards you. Hulk roared and began taking them out one by one, Steve’s shield and Clint’s arrows started to fly, and Tony, Rhodey and Vision started firing at their enemies from the air. You began throwing punches, hoping that you weren’t going to have to use your powers on anybody. But unfortunately, these thugs played dirty and they weren’t going to go easy on any of you. You heard Natasha let out a loud grunt from nearby, she was pinned underneath a burley Hydra agent with no possible escape. He drew his knife, ready to strike her, there was no time to deliberate on the decision…

You threw your hands out towards the man, letting the blue energy waves flow from your fingers as you threw him into a tree, knocking him unconscious. You began doing the same as more agents charged towards you, your eyes began to glow as your power was now fully unleashed. You had been holding back for so long, you forgot what it felt like to let yourself go and let your powers flow freely…You levitated off the ground and flew through the air towards Steve, who had been knocked down by another agent and began sending blasts of your energy towards him. He was now laying on the ground but was now aiming his fun towards you. He took his shot you deflected the bullet away from you, you then sent him the man flying into the flames of the explosion. You quickly helped Steve to his feet, he looked at you with shock and wonder on his face. “Yeah, yeah, thank me later.” you joked.

“y/n, look out!” Thor yelled, you whipped around to see every agent charging towards you and Steve. He was ready to throw his shield at them, but before he could, you had already launched yourself into the air. Moving your hands together, you built up an orb of your blue energy and sent it forward towards the ground. It looked like an aggressive ocean wave as it knocked down every Hydra agent to the ground in your path, a loud collective groan coming from all of them. You quickly surveyed the area from above, not a single one of Hydras agents had survived the attack. You let out a sigh of relief and lowered yourself to the ground, only to be met by the shocked faces of your teammates.

Shit.

You had forgotten for a moment that they’d never seen you use your powers. You quickly walked away from them, heading towards the Quinjet. Scurrying inside, you headed towards a dark corner and fell to the ground, trying not to cry. Slowly, one by one, the rest of the team joined you on the jet but gave you the space you clearly desired. You stayed silent during the ride back the compound and once you landed, you were the first one off of the jet. You made a beeline to your room, locking the door and sliding against it to the ground. You let your tears fall freely now that you were alone...The reason why you had kept your distance from the team was because of your powers. You knew you were a mutant, you knew you were dangerous and you didn’t want the team to be on the receiving end of your abilities. You were absolutely terrified of what you were and what you could do. You didn’t even have full control over your powers yet, so you weren’t going to take any chances on endangering them. Deep in your thoughts, you were jolted out of them by the knock at your door. “y/n?” a female voice called. It was Wanda. You didn’t want to see anybody at the moment, but out of everybody on the team, you felt the least afraid to be around Wanda. You wiped your eyes and stood up, unlocking the door for her to walk through. She gave you a sympathetic smile and walked towards your bed to sit down, you followed and sat down next to her. She placed her hand on yours carefully as not to frighten you. “I get it, I really do.” she whispered. You began to quietly weep, you knew that she understood exactly what you were feeling. You two seemed to share the same abilities and you had wished so many times you could push past your fear so you could talk to her about it. “I’m so scared.” you cried, turning to look at Wanda. Her expression was nothing but sympathetic as she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “What if I hurt somebody? I-I don’t know that I can control it fully and if one of you got hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself.” you continued.

She twisted herself to face you and placed your hand against her forehead. “I want you to look into my mind and tell me the amount of fear you see.” she said. You began to stammer, she gave you a knowing look, “I didn’t have to look in yours to know you can look into ours…”

You bit your lip, closed your eyes and began to let the blue energy fall from your fingers. You scanned Wanda’s brain and found no trace of fear, only sympathy, and admiration. You opened your eyes and pulled your hand back, letting out a single breathless laugh. She smiled at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “We’re not afraid of you.” she stated. “I mean, I’m definitely gonna make sure I never piss you off…” Tony quipped.

You whipped your head around, seeing the whole team had gathered outside your door while you were in Wanda’s mind. You wiped your tears and stood up quickly, not knowing how to start explaining yourself. Bruce was the first one to take a step towards you, “Look in mine.” he invited. You gave a hesitating glance to Wanda, but she nodded encouragingly. You turned back to Bruce and looked for any ounce of animosity he may have towards you, but there was nothing. One by one, the team stepped forward and you read each of their minds.

Not a single one of them feared you or your powers.

“We wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of the team if we didn’t want you here, y/n. You don’t need to be afraid of hurting us if we’re not afraid of you.” Steve stated, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I can help you learn to control your powers fully, you already seem to be pretty good at it.” Wanda said, stepping towards you. You gave them your first genuine smile in a long time. Words couldn’t describe how relieved you were in the moment that for once, you weren’t viewed as the threat you thought you were. “Thank you…” you managed to get out through your tears. Natasha came forward and hugged you, the next words she said would stay with you forever… “You’re a part of this family, y/n.” Within the next few weeks, you became fully immersed in the team. Wanda and you had regular sessions together where she taught you how to fully master your powers. On missions, you two became a dynamic duo, combining your energy to create catastrophic results for your enemies. She also quickly become your best friend. Steve and you had bonded over your shared love for old jazz music, spending lots of afternoons with him listening to his record collection from the ’40s. Tony and you spent time designing a new suit for you after he deemed your current one “not badass enough” and you two quickly developed a father-daughter bond. You developed a unique connection with every member of the team and you cherished each one. By the next team bonding night, you were no longer hiding in your room, you were instead sandwiched between Wanda and Clint on the couch. Steve stood in front of the tv holding up two discs, “Alright let’s take a vote. All in favor of Clint’s suggestion, raise your hand.” Steve directed, throwing his own hand up and half the room followed. “All in favor of Thor’s suggestion, raise your hand.” The other half of the room raised theirs. You would be the deciding vote once again. “Alright, looks like we need a tiebreaker…” Steve said, looking towards you with a small smile on his lips.

You debated between the choices, neither one of them were particularly exciting to you, but the decision still rested on you. You smirked, flicked your fingers forward and levitated Thor’s disc out of Steve’s hand and into the DVD player. Laughter rang out in the room, Clint gave you a playful shove against Wanda, “The was simultaneously hurtful and super cool.” he quipped.

You laughed and stole the bowl of popcorn in his lap for yourself. Never once had you imagined you’d actually get to a place where you could use your powers freely and the reaction would be joy, not fear. As you scanned the room looking at each one of your teammates, you couldn’t help but let a joyful tear trail down your face. There would never be enough words to describe how thankful you were to be a part of the Avengers.

They were your family, forever and always.

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d20-eggroll · 6 years

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Sunday game, we entered a dungeon, and everything is fucked up. This is a thorough write-up, so it is lengthy.

Mango dragged the whole party out in to the jungle because she heard there were other aarakocra there, and when they found them it turned out that it was a tribe of elemental aarakocra- these ones were focused on air. She learned a lot about her own lost culture and that a lot of what she was taught while it still stood was wrong, which is especially absurd considering she was heir to the throne. Most importantly, she found out there were to be four total, one for fire, air, earth and water, and that all of them were founded to protect their own temples with a sacred elemental bird.

The phoenix her bloodline is from was supposedly being protected by the Eternal Flame aarakocra, and she doesn’t know if the temple is untouched or if the phoenix has been slain and reborn in the wrong hands. The elemental birds are all connected and she gains permission to enter the temple trial to speak to the sacred bird of the Howling Winds to ask him if the phoenix is alive and where they might be. Thing is, this temple trial is incredibly dangerous. Most who go in don’t come back out. The aarakocra don’t do trade in gold so we can’t even supply ourselves before heading in. We do it anyway even though Mango is super fucking guilty and terrified to be bringing what is essentially her family in to something they’re being repeatedly told is a death trap, and that the last to succeed went in with the same number of people, was in there for a week and was the only one to emerge.

WE HAD A PC FAIL TWO DEATH SAVING THROWS BEFORE WE ALL TURNED THE FIRST FUCKING CORNER.

There was some weird trap that made it so you couldn’t breath until you had a successful con. saving throw and he went down there to look at the corpses, FAILED FOR A SECOND, hurried back to tell us it was trapped, TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND WENT DOWN THERE AGAIN?! He made it back to the party but he was failing his saves this time, and he went unconscious. We were all throwing whatever we could at him and none of it was working. Last second someone stabilized him w/a nat 20 medicine check. We were all standing in the fucking hall we entered from the doorway. NOT A GREAT START.

There was a ravine spitting lightning, which we dispelled. Then we tried to send the wizard’s owl over it to scout the other side. He hit a magic barrier and died instantly with his 1hp. COOL. Guess we have to go through the room ahead!

The first room had intense wind and cold, and the floor was a frozen over pond. The wind was too strong to fly against. If Mango did any fire magic it would suddenly become intensely hot and the frozen point would instead become boiling water, which it was incredibly lucky that I tried that before anyone went in, bc you can guess what the first impulse would have been when we had people get stuck in the ice! The same PC (Thirk, a half-orc barbarian so he’s heavy) fell through in to the freezing water. We had to drag him out after throwing him a rope which he luckily caught. Mango did her best to make herself a little space heater and warm all the chilly folks up and at this point she’s freaking the fuck out because this is all my fault everyone is going to die because of me why why why.

Then we had a choice between a room full of big weird mushrooms or... a blood spattered gore-heavy room with mini tornadoes flashing about in it, throwing limbs and body parts all hither and yon. MUSHROOMS PLEASE, NO BLOODNADOS THANKS. The mushrooms were completely harmless to just be around, which was refreshing.

Past the mushrooms was a room with what seemed like natural rock formations chiseled in to statues of people, all of whom we recognized were known to be dead. One PC, who is an orphan, saw an elven woman with features much like her own, so we took down a sketch. She was super upset at the idea of her mom being dead. There were no human men so we figured her dad is still out there somewhere. Mango found her parents shielding themselves from something, and her impulse is basically “firebolt anything you don’t like immediately.” They were the only ones in the pose of the moment of their deaths, everyone else looked peaceful. The bard found his parents and had our artist sketch them as well because his younger sister was too little to remember their faces and he wanted them to see. Tetra (an NPC who came in with us, the heir to the Howling Winds) saw her mother, who had died doing this trial.

Next hall actually seemed relatively pleasant, the first way we went. It was technically a dead end but it led to the peaceful grave of a legendary dragon slayer in the center of a calm pond. Mango probably had some blood vessels pop arguing with the party to not desecrate a grave in the Howling Wind’s most sacred of places looking for corpse-loot. Across the pond was another small room. In there were four cloaks made of aarakocra hide. Which, of course, one of the PCs wanted because it “wasn’t technically a grave.” Tetra came along while Mango was trying to explain how it wasn’t any better to literally wear the skins of her people, and pointed out that oh shit.

Those weren’t old cloaks. Those were the feathers of the guards who were supposed to be posted outside the temple.

Mango did end up going back for the cloaks, after we found the skinned bodies of the guards hanging from meat hooks in a nearby room, so they could be wrapped in them and laid to rest with at least some ceremony and dignity. We could tell the bodies were a week dead or less. At this point it is setting in hard that we’re not the only ones in here, and that the bird (who is the only one that can send us out of the temple) might have been slain.

In a room right past that was an entire murdered colony of deep gnomes. Would have laid them out politely as well, but there was something haunted going on in that chamber and we noped the fuck out. The wind started speaking as our enemies or our dead for awhile.

ANYWAY THEN WE HAD TO GET ACROSS ANOTHER RAVINE. REMEMBER HOW THE OWL JUST STRAIGHT UP PLUMMETED TO HIS DEATH? CUZ WE SURE DID.

Mango tied a rope around her waist and gave the other end to Thirk and was going to just try her damnedest, but then our fighter goliath tried to climb in to position to jump it and she rolled a fucking 1 and fell so teensy tiny 90lb Mango leaped after her, missed catching her friend, and ended up just kind of dangling helplessly. Her friend rolled well and caught a handhold. We have 7 party members at this point, and they crossed like so:

Valentino, human bard, and Seladi, dragonborn wizard: Dimension door.

Ashley, the goliath fighter: a much better athletics check for jumping.

Tetra, druid and Bark, half-elf druid/cleric: turned in to mountain goats and goated across.

Mango and Thirk: My dimension door cloak had already been used in the ice room, so she cast polymorph for the first time, turned in to a giant ridiculous rainbow ape, picked Thirk up like he was a toddler and aped across. And then a few more times when we realized there was another hall but YIKES there was a black pudding in there no thanks, but also because Mango was super in to being the Big Strong all of a sudden.

We get in to this room through the hall though, and find more dead aarakocra. These are specifically women with some symbol carved in to their forehead strung up on silk ropes and apparently bled dry there. While two of us (Mango being one) took them down, something invisible attacked. It hit Mango and was revealed to be a big fiend of some sort and YIKES that axe hit would have ko’d her if she hadn’t been polymorphed.

So she took his axe in the first round, and picked him up to throw him down the ravine in the second. Big Strong.

After laying the aarakocra dead to a more respectful position of rest we continued on to what turned out to be the last room on that floor. It was a gigantic waterfall pouring down a hole in the floor. There was blood all over and it all seemed to be exploding out from that point, but that was also where we NEEDED to go. We did manage to dispel the trap and while some of us climbed down a rope to the other floor, Mango polymorphed in to a huge ass shark and just dropped down swimming in the fall followed by the druids wildshaping in to smaller sharks.

We’re all down there now. There’s no land. There is a mostly submerged staircase behind the fall, but everything else is tunnels with 60ft deep dark water. That’s where we’re picking up in the next session but I’m already fucking dying bc we’re going to be juggling so many resources just figuring out how to move 5 folks without wings around on the one shark big enough to awkwardly ride, not even considering our priority right now is to find a safe place to camp and rest. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#sunday game #mango #if we TPK doing something based on my character's story I'm gonna feel guilty forever

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3ndoftheline · 7 years

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Will You Stay?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

Warnings: Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(

Word Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)

Author’s Note: so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to read :)

It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of having it all, of seeing it all. How warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.

Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you finally do.

What they never tell you about is after the fall.

When you land. When you hit the ground so hard you feel yourself slip away for a little bit, your head spinning and you’re grasping for that feeling to be light again. They never tell you about how tight your chest is and how much it fucking hurts, like you’re bleeding yet desperately trying to sew yourself back together at the same time.

No, they never tell you about after the fall. Because where’s the romance in that? Nobody wants to write about the hardships, the pain and emptiness. Nobody wants to look at a painting splattered with red and black and the darkest purples. Where was the beauty in that?

There was no beauty. There was nothing to put on a pedestal, nothing to turn into a pretty picture with a smiling face. All that is left are cracked smiles and bruised knuckles and whispered hopes of trying, begging for an answer. There is no beauty in stained cheeks and watery eyes. There is no romance in a broken chest and empty lungs.

Beauty is pain, perhaps, but pain is not beauty.

Pain is not painted with flowers and rich silks and velvet trim. Pain is lurking in the shadows, the silent master that waits patiently for its turn to remind you that beauty is not everything, that love is misconception, confusion and a liar. Pain is the reality that you refuse to believe in when you’re suspended in the clouds.

And how stupid was I, how naïve I was to believe I could escape reality. That I could live in my pretty little painting. Idyllic and serene and fashioned perfectly to what I wanted. Created by my own fantasies and selfish heart, my pretty little painting. My perfect world. Gone, without a warning and without a sign.

Beauty is pain, but pain is not beauty. And how I wished I had realized that sooner.

I stared at the wall; the blank white wall was all I saw. I focused on the chipped paint and tried to regulate my breathing.

The apartment was quiet. Deadly silent, not even my own breathing could be heard.

A loud clang of a coffee mug meeting the edge of the counter jolted me from my sleep. The string of curses that followed forced my eyes open as I tried to curl deeper into the mattress. Sleep seemed to evade me as the strong scent of crushed coffee grounds filled the apartment, followed by a low whistle that didn’t follow a tune but was catchy in its own way.

I stayed in bed until the heavy footsteps and continued whistling drew closer to the bedroom.

“Good morning,” a deep voice broke through the last of the drowsy haze that covered my eyes. I ran my eyes over the low slung sweatpants and loose gray shirt, the scoop neck revealed the slight swell of his pecs. When I finally met his piercing blue gaze, my heart stuttered wildly in my chest and judging by the smirk on his face, he could hear it.

“Hi,” I answered in a soft voice, completely anticlimactic but it was all I could muster. He chuckled and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. He brushed the hair from my neck, the warm skin of his palm elicited goosebumps over my arms.

“I made you coffee,” he murmured as his thumb traced my jaw.

I hummed. “I know, I heard you.”

He winced and I couldn’t help but laugh as I sat up, letting the comforter slide from my shoulders. I crossed my legs as I took the coffee mug from the bedside table and took a tentative sip, careful of the steam that curled from the rim. His hand slid from my neck to my shoulders then dipped beneath my shirt to trace my spine. I watched him, amazed how the sun light reflected in his eyes and how warm his skin looked.

“Will you stay?” I whispered as I glanced at the clock. He usually had to leave me early in the morning, most of the times before I woke. It was rare for him to stay past nine. I was lucky if he even stayed until nine.

He smiled, soft and apologetic as he kissed my lips briefly, humming that silly little tune under his breath.

“Only for a little bit,” he replied but I nodded anyways. I took what I could get it. So we sat as I drank my coffee and chatted aimlessly, stopping every now and then for a lazy kiss. He made me laugh so hard I spilled coffee onto the white sheets of the bed, but I didn’t care. I saw it as another memory, a little reminder.

And when he took my mug back into the kitchen, he was still whistling that tune, quietly but it reverberated throughout the apartment until the birds outside were singing along too.

There was no whistling now. No humming. No empty coffee mugs and no chatty birds. There was nothing.

I turned my head away from the wall and immediately my eyes fell to the droplets of coffee, still stained on the sheets of the bed. They hadn’t gone away, no matter how many times I washed the sheets. But I hadn’t minded then, I had liked knowing that they would always be there. The faint coffee smell always sent be back to that morning, that little slice of heaven. Now it seemed to be taunting, reminding me of everything good that I had lost.

“I’ll kill him,” a voice spoke from the doorway. I chuckled, but it was humorless.

“No, you won’t,” I whispered. I tried to take my eyes away from the drops of faint brown, but I couldn’t. I could feel his lips on my forehead, temple and lips. I could feel the giddiness in my stomach and the fluttering in my chest. I felt it all.

“No, you’re right.” There was dip as the mattress moved to accommodate the extra weight. “That would be too easy. We need a better plan.”

I smiled but it felt wrong. There was a flash of red in my peripheral as a head came down to rest on my shoulder. A sigh rattled through my body as a fresh wave of tears threatened to consume me again but I fought them. I wouldn’t cry. Not again.

“I’ll be fine, Nat.” It sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince her. Perhaps I was.

“Sure you will,” her voice had an easy confidence to it, something I wished I possessed. “But you’re not fine now. And that’s okay.”

I shook my head as I shrugged her off and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “What a way to end the week,” I chuckled bitterly as my palms became slick with tears. Natasha laid a gentle hand on my back and was silent. She didn’t try to assure me that everything would be okay, that the world would answer my prayers that this day would end and the next day would be better. She knew. She knew how easily fate switched hands.

She knew what I knew, except she accepted it long before I did.

I gripped my umbrella tightly as the rain pattered against the polyester, the cool air bit at my cheeks as I waited at the crosswalk. It seemed the white man would never appear, just the harsh red hand telling me to stop. I sighed and tucked myself tighter into my coat as I allowed my eyes to gaze out to my surroundings until the fell upon a flower shop that acted as a coffee shop too. The faint scent of coffee and buttery scones caused a harsh ache to flourish in my chest.

“Jesus, how much sugar do you take?” He raised an eyebrow at me as I sat idly in one of the wrought iron chairs. The air was clear and the sun was strong as the bustling streets of Brooklyn seemed like an afterthought as I stared at him.

“Enough to make me happy,” I shot back. He shook his head but I could see the smile across his face as he made his way back to the counter to get me more sugar packets.

“You know this shit is fake, right? This isn’t what real sugar tastes like.”

“Excuse me. Did I judge you when you tore through that whole pack of gummy worms last night? No. So let me use my fake sugar in my coffee.”

He smirked and handed me the pink packets. He sat down and picked off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into his mouth. He was beautiful. Mahogany hair pulled into a loose bun as his strong jaw worked at the muffin. I hid behind my coffee cup to hide my blush as the sweetness nearly burned my throat. Perfect.

“Wait here,” he said as he abruptly stood up. I didn’t even have a chance to question him nor remind him that I couldn’t go anywhere since he was my ride. Instead, I waited while I sipped away at my coffee and people watched. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard a distant pair of footfalls become louder. I turned my head and saw him walking towards me, a single rose clutched in his left hand.

“For you,” he murmured. My heart nearly fell out of my chest as I gasped softly. He normally didn’t do romantic gestures. He wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Any sort of affection I got was behind locked doors where no one would see but us.

I took the flower, afraid if I reacted to quickly the moment would shatter. The faint scent tickled my nose and I couldn’t help but smile. A hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb brushed over the rise of my cheekbone. It was fleeting, it was quick, but I felt the burn for hours after.

“Will you stay?” I whispered, staring into his bright blue eyes and begging for a different answer. His smile was forlorn as his eyes flickered to the rose, then to me.

“Only for a little bit,” he murmured then took the empty sugar packets in his hand and turned on his heel to throw them out.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Nothing but a memory and a rose to remind me that it was real.

I turned my head away, cursing the burn in my eyes. It had been two weeks since I had last cried over him and I refused to break that streak. I was finally doing better. I finally buried the pain deep enough so that it didn’t matter anymore.

The red hand changed to the white man and the crowd around my pushed me forward, leaving the memory behind me as the dismal rain pattered against my umbrella.

I moved four months after he left. The apartment was too suffocating; too much of him was left. Every time I stepped outside the streets of Brooklyn reminded me of him. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing something that made me think of him. When my job had an opening in Boston, I pounced immediately and without a second thought I told my landlord I was leaving that month and paid the last of my rent.

“I wish you weren’t leaving.” Natasha frowned as I zipped up my suitcase, having to sit on the top due to the amount of clothes I had managed to stuff inside.

“Hey, it’s not forever,” I assured her as I rolled the suitcase out to the living room. “It’s like, a two hour ride in the jet, if that. I’m sure you’ll find some way to stop by after every mission.”

“He misses you,” she whispered and I froze as my heart crunched painfully in my chest.

“Nat, don’t.” I stalked into the kitchen and began to close the boxes filled with plates and cups.

“I know he’s why you’re leaving,” she murmured as she followed me. I recoiled like she had stuck me with a hot iron. “I know the job in Boston is good, but you don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave.”

“Yes I do.” I turned to face her. Her eyes regarded me with a soft sadness that made my mouth dry and my throat clench. “There’s nothing here for me, Nat. I came to Brooklyn for him. He’s gone. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“If you just talked–”

“Natasha,” I finally snapped. I cursed the break in my voice as I turned my face away.

She sighed reluctantly and walked forward. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just – I don’t want you to leave. You’re like my sister, y’know?”

I smiled and felt a surge of gratefulness for her and flung my arms around her. She stiffened but relaxed a bit as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m not far. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I know. I’ve tried.” She smirked as I feigned offense. And just like that, the playful atmosphere returned but neither of us could ignore the taste of bitterness that tinged the air around us.

Mornings were not my thing. They weren’t something I avidly wanted to be a part of, especially on the weekends. So when some unseen force woke me up at seven on a Saturday morning, I was anything but happy. Yet, sleep evaded me and with a frustrated groan, I kicked off the covers and made my way into the kitchen. When I turned on the light, a scream forced itself out of my mouth when I caught a glimpse of the figure sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Hey,” the voice said, unphased and I immediately clutched my chest as I glared at the shadowy form.

“What the fuck Steve. Couldn’t you have knocked?”

Steve shrugged as he leaned forward. His blonde hair was limp against his forehead and his skin was paler than normal. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh, so sneaking into my apartment is your next best option?” He shrugged again and I rolled my eyes. “You Avengers need to learn a thing or two about privacy, Jesus.” Scowling, I stalked to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

I pulled out another and went to my Keurig and powered it on. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked as I stopped by the refrigerator to grab the creamer.

“Nice place you have here.” Steve ignored my question as he glanced around my apartment. “Boston suits you.”

I nodded as I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out his play. “Yeah, I love it here. It’s peaceful.”

His eyebrows flickered up before the settled back down and he stared at the Keurig. He looked haunted. I frowned at his gaunt expression and turned to the Keurig and inserted Black Silk and slid his cup beneath the spout and pressed a few buttons and soon coffee was pouring into his cup. I knew how he took his coffee I had made it for him only how many times at the Facility. As soon as the coffee finished, I added creamer and one sugar before stirring idly and slid the mug to him.

He nodded his thanks and wrapped his hands around the mug. I saw the slight tremble to his fingers as he gripped the ceramic and I frowned again.

“Steve,” I murmured. “What’s going on?”

He flicked his eyes up and seemed surprised for a moment. “I forgot how perceptive you are. Bucky always loved that about you.” I winced at his name and immediately turned my head to the floor. Steve sighed and set down his cup and rubbed a hand over his weary face. For the first time, he looked his age, 98 years old and tired of the world. “Something’s happened. Things aren’t so good…at the facility,” he muttered and my blood ran cold. I gripped the edge of the counter as I struggled to remain composed.

“Is Natasha–?”

“She’s okay, it’s not her,” he assured me quickly and I visibly relaxed. “She wanted to be here but she had to stay.”

I furrowed my brow as I stared at Steve, my brain turning to try and keep up. “What happened? Why couldn’t she be here?”

Steve swallowed as his shoulders hunched forward. “She had to watch Bucky.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.

“Watch Bucky?” His name felt weird against my lips. It was the first time I had spoken his name in months and automatically I felt something stir deep inside me. “Steve, what are you trying to tell me? What’s going on?”

Steve stared at the creamy liquid inside his mug. When his eyes finally met mine I was shocked at the pain that swam in the blue irises. “Bucky…he’s lost it. He, I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

My heart shattered for Steve as I saw the hopelessness weigh him down and gray his features. “Steve…” I whispered softly.

“He’s just…he won’t eat. He won’t sleep, he won’t talk to anyone. He hasn’t left his room in two weeks. Nothing I say matters. It’s the…this is the worst episode he’s ever had. I’ve never seen him like this in my life.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I rounded the breakfast bar and collected Steve into a hug. He didn’t relax. His shoulders still tense but he let me rub his back. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I am.” I sighed softly as I pressed my cheek to his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you Steve, you know how he gets. There’s nothing you can do, nothing any of us can do.”

“Yes there is,” he whispered and pulled back as he stared at me. Instantly, I knew what he was going to say and I began shaking my head.

“Steve–”

“Please, listen. Please,” he begged. “He needs you. He’s not…he hasn’t been the same without you.”

I shook my head again, this time more adamant. “He doesn’t need me,” I whispered.

“He does. He’s…he does, believe me, please.” Steve sighed and carded his hand through his hair roughly. “I can’t…I can’t help him. I can’t say anything, I can’t do anything. But if you…if you could just see him, just talk to him. Maybe–”

“I’ll make it worse.” My voice was hollow and it didn’t sound like me. “I promise Steve, I’m the last person you want there.”

“No, goddammit,” Steve growled as he glared at me, years of pain burned in his eyes. “Don’t you see? He’s not…he’s not Bucky. He’s pretended that he’s been fine but he’s not.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t abandon him, please. Don’t. Not now, please.”

“Abandon him?” I laughed. It was humorless and empty as I backed away from Steve. “He’s the one who left me, Steve. You don’t…you have no idea what he said…”

“Hey,” I called out when I heard the front door open. “I’m making dinner, hope you’re–” My words died in my throat when I heard the dorm slam shut again, the force shook the apartment. I froze and listened as heavy feet stormed from the door into the kitchen. I turned and saw his face, brooding and dark and I knew it was going to be one of those nights.

“How was training?” I tried. He ignored me as he strode to the fridge and ripped open the door nearly taking it off its hinges. He peered inside then scowled heavily before slamming it shut again. He didn’t offer me a glance as he stalked out again. I sighed heavily as I stirred the pasta and put the lid on. My first instinct was to run after him but I knew that wouldn’t do me any good. When he got in these moods, the only thing I could do was give him his space until he calmed down enough to come out.

I ate dinner by myself and stowed a plate for him in the microwave. I cleaned the dishes and went through a movie before I looked at the clock and realized it was past ten and he still hadn’t made an appearance. With a resigned sigh, I steeled my nerves and approached the bedroom door. Slowly, I creaked it open and found him lying on the bed face up. His hands clutched the sheets so tightly I could see the tears in the fabric and the whole room crackled with tense energy.

“Bucky,” I murmured. “Your dinner’s cold.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered and I tried not to flinch. I hated when he got this. Angry at everything but most of all, angry at himself.

“Yes you do,” I said as I closed the door behind me. I stepped forward until I could sit down on the bed, careful to keep my distance. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

“Nothin’.”

“Please,” I whispered. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Bucky laughed and I looked up. I wished I hadn’t. There was so much anger trapped in his blue eyes it made my skin crawl. “And what, you think I like being like this? You think I enjoy doing this?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that,” I protested. He snarled as he sat up and the sheets tore with him.

“Then what did you mean? You hate this part of me? Is this not good enough for you? Sorry love, this is who I am. Can’t always please you, can I?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Forget it,” he snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and clutched his head in his hands. My heart cracked in my chest as I watched his shoulders shake from the tremendous weight that constantly threatened to suffocate him. “You can’t fix me. I can’t be saved,” he muttered.

“Bucky, I don’t want to fix you. There’s nothing to be fixed.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You know damn well I’m as fucked up as anyone. That’s why you’re here. You want to help me, make me better. Change me. I can’t change, can’t you see that? Can’t you understand?”

“I don’t want you to change, can’t you see that?” I met his eyes as I begged him to understand. “I want to help you, please, let me.”

“Help me?” He scoffed. “Help me? You can’t help me, you don’t understand. You’ll never, ever understand.”

“Then help me understand,” I shot back as I leaned forward. “Let me in, please Bucky. Don’t try to do this yourself, please.”

“You don’t get it,” he sneered as his upper lip curled. “You come from a perfect fucking world. A perfect fucking family, white picket fence and everything. You’ve got your perfect fucking friends and your perfect fucking job. You don’t know a thing about what I go through, you don’t know jack shit. Stop pretending you understand because you don’t.”

I gaped in silence as his words lashed out like a whip, scalding over my face. “You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

“You think so?” He growled as he stood up abruptly, his blue eyes like ice as he vibrated with anger. “You think I need you? You can’t do anything for me, you’ve never been able to help and you never will. I don’t need you, I’ve never needed you.”

“Bucky, stop,” I pleaded. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be. I’ve never seen him this angry, never in my life.

“Fuckin’…you know what? Forget it.” He whirled around and stormed out of the bedroom. I sat in shock, my eyes wet with tears without even realizing it. I listened as the door was thrown open and winced as it slammed shut and shook the apartment. In the silence that followed, I crumpled onto the bed and gripped the holes he had made in the sheets as I tried desperately to control my breathing.

It’s not real, he didn’t mean it. It’s just a dream, it’ll be okay, I thought to myself like a mantra but the more I said it the less I believed it.

“Will you stay?” I whispered into his pillow as tears burned against my skin.

The silence that followed was the only answer I needed as I finally let the sobs rack my body.

“He needs you,” Steve whispered and I shook my head. I knew I was crying, I couldn’t help it. The memory of the night burned like a fresh burn.

“Believe me when I say this, he doesn’t,” I whispered as I backed up against the counter. The Keurig was hot behind me but I ignored it.

“He keeps asking for you,” Steve said and I closed my eyes at the fresh pain the flared in my chest. “Every time…every, every day. He always asks for you. And then – we have to tell him that you’re not there. And he just…he just breaks and I don’t know what to do.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” I whispered as I looked at Steve. “You know that, when he has his episodes he’ll say whatever comes to mind.”

Steve shook his head adamantly. “Not now. He begs for you, he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. Please. He needs you, he misses you so much.” He held his hand up when I tried to interrupt and I reluctantly kept it shut. “I know, I know what he said. He told me and so did Nat. He hates himself for it, every day he blames himself for making you leave. He’s scared. He’s so scared and he doesn’t know what to do but he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. He just…I know what he said and I know it hurt more than anything. But don’t give up. Not yet.”

I was really crying now and I furiously tried to wipe my eyes as I shook my head. “Steve, I…I can’t, you know I can’t.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you say yes?” Steve leaned forward and just the look on his face made me want to climb onto the quinjet. “Please. He’s my best friend…I can’t, I hate seeing him like this. You’re the only one who made him better.”

I bowed my head and watched as my tears splashed against my leg. “Steve…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t do anything. I know he says he needs me but…you don’t understand, he doesn’t…it’s not like that anymore. Maybe…maybe I’ll come when he’s calmer, when he’s out of his episode. But not now, not when he’s so vulnerable. I can’t do that to him, I can’t.”

Steve sighed and nodded gravely as he stood up and set his mug into the sink. He turned to me and enveloped me into a strong hug, a hug I hadn’t realized I needed until I was in it. I took in a shaky breath as Steve squeezed my shoulders. “You’re the only one he’s ever truly loved,” he whispered and my chest cracked open as I held back the hard sobs. He stepped back and gave me a sad smile and I could see in his eyes that he was trying to understand. That walking away right now was the last thing he wanted to do. “Please…think about it. That’s all I ask.”

I nodded and watched as he turned his back and disappeared out the window, the distant purr of the quinjet was what I heard before I sagged against the kitchen counter and cried harder than I had over the past six months.

It had been two days since Steve had come to my apartment and our conversation was all I could think about. I tried to move on. I tried to shake off his words. But they were like a mantra in my head that never went away.

He needs you.

He’s my best friend, please.

You’re the only one he’s ever loved.

He needs you.

And the more his words repeated in my mind, the more my resolve began to crack until finally I found myself purchasing a plane ticket and arriving at New York.

I approached the facility late at night, the lights still blazed despite it being close to midnight. With a sigh and fear clenching my insides, I strode through the front door and walked up to the security desk. The security guard was flicking through the CCTVs with a bored expression when I approached him.

“Sorry miss, no visitors at this hour,” he drawled as he kept his gaze fixated on the computer screens.

“I’m…um, I’m here to see Captain Steve Rogers?”

“No visitors at this hour,” he repeated again, monotone. I sighed and gripped the counter to hide my frustration.

“I need to see Steve Rogers. It’s important.”

“No visitors at this–”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I muttered as I whipped out my cell phone. The guy didn’t even acknowledge me as I dialed Natasha’s number.

“Romanoff,” she replied in a brisk voice though I could hear the exhaustion that dripped behind the cold voice.

“Nat, it’s me.” I eyed the guard as he still dutifully ignored me. “I’m here, at the facility. Where are you?”

“What?” There was a sudden commotion through the speaker before her voice returned. “I’ll be there in a minute, don’t move.”

I ended the call and glared pointedly at the security guard who didn’t even move, his finger clicked on the mouse every interval of three. Some security I thought wryly to myself before I heard the elevator ping and out stepped Natasha. She looked exhausted, her hair was knotted and the bags beneath her eyes were a dark purple as she practically ran towards me.

“Hi,” I said once she stood in front of me. She nodded in greeting, her face grim.

“C’mon, he needs you,” she said in a stiff voice and I could tell she was barely holding it together. I followed her into the elevator and she pressed the button marked 35. Bucky’s floor.

“Nat,” I murmured in the quiet elevator. “How bad is he?” I knew Steve told me he was bad, but Steve had a tendency to overdramatize things especially when it came to Bucky. I wanted to make sure that what Steve told me was in fact, the truth.

“It’s good that you’re here,” she whispered. It’s all she said, but it was enough.

I nodded and swallowed thickly. “Are you monitoring him?”

“Full surveillance.” Natasha confirmed as the doors slid open and we stepped onto Bucky’s floor. “We have to.”

“Shut it off,” I whispered. Natasha was about to protest but I silenced her with a hard glare. “If I’m going to talk to him, it’s going to be just me and Bucky. He deserves his privacy. I’m not going in there until video and audio is cut off. I’m serious, Nat. I’m going to talk to Bucky as a friend, not as a psychiatrist. We don’t need to be monitored.”

Natasha nodded bleakly and squeezed my hand tightly. “Be careful,” she whispered before she disappeared down the hallway. I waited and calmed my churning stomach as I clasped and unclasped my hands in front of me. Two minutes later I got a text from Natasha.

Surveillance cut. Be safe, please.

I pocketed my phone and strode towards Bucky’s door. My hand hesitated in front of the keypad before I shook my head and steeled my nerves. I punched in the familiar code and the doors slid open.

Inside, everything was clean. The bed was made and everything was set within a specific place – nothing out of order. All of the picture frames were gone; the candles I had used to rid the metallic scent of blood were nowhere to be seen. The comforter was replaced with a dull gray quilt.

There was no color, no life.

Everything was too neat. There were no creases in the bed spread when I knew before he couldn’t have cared less how the blankets looked I was always the one who made the bed. The frames were gone but I saw the marks on the bureau from where the corners of the frames had hit too hard and chipped away at the stain. I could still smell a hint of the lavender candles I always used to light but it was overwhelmed with the scent of beech wood like he had done everything in his power to rid the lavender from the room. There were cobwebs laced in the corners of the room and when I looked down I saw cracks in the tile. I wondered how hard his fists had hit the floor to make those marks. The couches all had covers over them but as they fluttered in the air of the heating I could see the pockets of fabric missing from where he had ripped out chunks of the upholstery.

The entire room was set up to make it seem like he was fine when he was really anything but.

I turned my head and jolted when I saw Bucky staring at me. He stood in the doorframe of the bathroom seemingly frozen in place. His clothes were clean, his shirt pressed and his jeans free of grease stains. His hair fell loose around his face and his eyes were bright and wide.

“Why are you here?” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in weeks and I flinched at the sharp hostility in his tone. I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it. My sudden burst of confidence was dwindling fast and I tried vainly to grasp onto it. I turned my head away and swallowed thickly.

“Uh…I just, wanted to…I don’t know. Um, I just wanted to see how you were, I guess. But if you want me to go then I’ll, I’ll go–”

“Wait,” he broke me off as he leaned on the balls of his feet. “Sorry, um, you just…surprised me, I guess.”

I nodded slowly as I rocked back on my heels. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bucky nodded again and gave me a soft shrug. There was a pregnant pause and I opened my mouth to make my escape but Bucky beat me to it. “Um, sit, please.” He mumbled, pointing to the armchair facing the window. I chewed on my bottom lip before I relented with a sigh and walked forward, clutching my bag to my chest. Bucky sat on the loveseat that was before the TV.

“So,” I broke the silence once I sat down, “how have you been?”

Bucky shrugged, still not huge on conversation. It reminded me when I first met him. He barely spoke a word to me. It was like he didn’t know me, all over again. “You look good,” he muttered, completely dodging my question. I sighed inwardly as I subconsciously touched my hair.

“Yeah, well, you know. I’m trying. All in a day’s work, right?” I attempted to joke but I knew it fell flat. He wrung his hands together, spreading them apart then clutching them back together.

“And how’s that going for you?” His voice was empty, as if he was steeling himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear.

It was my turn shrug. “I dunno, seemed to have fooled everyone.”

“Everyone?” He murmured and his eyes finally met mine. The icy chasms took my breath away even now.

“Yeah,” I breathed out. His face was expressionless as he looked away. “So…you seem to be doing good.” I nodded to the bed with a small smile on my face.

“Of course I am,” he bit out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I winced, his words like a hot knife through his chest. Of course he was fine. He was the one who left me. Suddenly, everything Steve said flew out the window. Bucky never needed me. Just like he had said.

“Yeah,” I mouthed. “Right, of course.”

Bucky shook his head and I saw anger twist his features. “Why are you even here?” He stared at me, his eyes dead. My breath rattled in my chest as my mouth formed no words. After several heartbeats of silence Bucky shook his head and stood up, storming to the bathroom. The door rattled in the doorframe when he slammed it shut and I winced at the sudden sound.

“I don’t know,” I whispered into the silence. Hot tears formed in my eyes and I willed them to go away with a tight squeeze of my eyelids. I refused to cry again. I was done crying over Bucky Barnes. There was obviously no love lost with him, it was time for me to realize that. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry but I forced myself up with a staggered breath. With soft steps I pushed open the door and shut it quietly behind me. I looked up at the security camera that I knew was trained on Bucky’s door. Where I knew Nat and Steve were watching. I gave a small shake of my head, pressing my lips together as a fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes. My legs willed me towards the elevator and somehow my body followed.

It was almost mechanical, my actions, like the voice that spoke to me in the elevator. Once the doors closed I leaned against the cool walls hoping the cold will bring back some semblance of thought. I used the trip down to the ground floor as a way to gather myself. “Let him go, let him go,” I kept repeating to myself, like an endless mantra. I figured if I kept saying, eventually I’d believe it.

The ground floor was dead; the security guard had seemingly decided to leave the desk unattended. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I strode purposefully towards the revolving doors, repeating the three words in my head.

A sudden crash interrupted my train of thought as I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. I whipped around and saw the door that led to the set of the stairs plastered to the opposite wall, the hinges creaking slightly. Bucky emerged from the destroyed frame as he ran towards me, skidding to a stop before me. He was barely panting even though he had just launched a vibranium infused door into the next century.

“Don’t…don’t go,” he grated out, his voice so rough it sounded like sandpaper.

“What?” I managed to pull my gaze from the doorway to him. His eyes were slightly crazed, blown so wide I was worried they would pop out of his head.

“Don’t leave, please. Please…stay, stay.”

I gazed at him in shock, wondering if I was looking at the same guy as I slowly began to shake my head. “I, uh…I think I should go.”

“No,” he sprung forward when I took a step back and froze in place. “Please, please. Don’t leave me. Not yet, not now. Please.”

I kept shaking my head as my legs unfroze and took two more steps back as I began to turn away from him. “I can’t, I can’t,” I repeated. I willed my voice not to break as I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my own feet. Bucky was quiet as I nearly sprinted to the revolving doors, my heart cracking against my ribcage. I almost made it, my hand outstretched to the handle when he spoke.

“I didn’t mean it.” Four words, spoken so softly but they reverberated throughout the entire room. “I…I didn’t mean, what I said. I never meant it.”

I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him just yet. “Why did you say it? Why? Was it just to – to hurt me?”

“Yes.” I winced at the single word that cut through my heart. It was like the final nail in the coffin, the reminder that I didn’t matter.

“Right,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I have to go.”

“No, no wait,” Bucky began pleading behind me as I pushed the glass panel before me. The door began to turn and just as I was about to reach the exit, the door suddenly screeched to a halt and my face nearly went through the glass. I peeled my face off of the glass and whipped around to see Bucky’s metal arm holding the door back.

“Let me go,” I demanded as I slammed my shoulder against the glass. It didn’t even budge. “Goddammit Bucky, I am going to suffocate if you do not let me out.”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“By trapping me?” I nearly screeched. “God, what else do you want with me? Do you just want to hurt me some more, really destroy my self-esteem? Because honestly, I think you have done enough.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice was fierce but I scoffed and nearly laughed in his face.

“How else could you possibly mean that, Bucky?” He bowed his head but didn’t say anything. He was dead quiet. I shook my head and slammed my hands against the glass. All it did was shudder. Tears pricked my eyes as my throat constricted. “Do you like seeing me like this? Is that what this is? Is this some sort of fucked up game for you?”

“What?” Bucky gasped. “God, no. It was never–”

“Then why?” I yelled, stepping three feet to the other glass panel that confined me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you know,” he whispered and I just gaped at me. A few moments passed as I waited for him to respond, to elaborate in some way. But he didn’t.

“Know what, Bucky? What are you talking about?”

“You just know,” he repeated, the plates in his arm rippled as he gripped the handle harder. “You…you look at me, and you know. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to talk, I don’t have to say anything and you just know. One look at me and it’s like you just…get it and no one has ever done that before.”

I blinked at him before I raised my hands up in defense. “You know, this might just be me, but isn’t that what people want? Someone who knows the other one? I really thought that was something good in a relationship.”

“It is, it was one…it was good. But it – it terrified me. Nobody has known me like that in…decades. Steve used to, but even now he doesn’t. But you…you, who has no idea what I’ve gone through. You’ve never held a gun in your life, you just know. You understand me like no one ever has and it scares the shit out of me. Because I’m so used to saying the right thing, to acting a certain way to make sure I wasn’t noticed. But you just…God you just see right through me no matter how hard I try to keep you out.”

“So…you said all of those things…because I know you?” I stared at him in disbelief. It was ridiculous, even for Bucky. I found it so hard to believe him. Suspicion began to grow in my stomach as I narrowed my eyes at Bucky. It was then that I realized he hadn’t looked at me. Throughout his whole speech he couldn’t even look my way. “Bucky,” I prompted. “Look at me.” He ignored me and I nearly exploded. “Jesus, the least you could do is look at me. At least give me that.” Seconds ticked away before Bucky finally tore his gaze from the ground and met mine. His eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t pinpoint, but it was something so strong it nearly knocked my breath away. “What aren’t you telling me?” I whispered. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Bucky shook his head as a small chuckle left his mouth. “This is what I mean,” he murmured, “you see right through me.”

“Then can you please explain what I’m seeing? Because it makes no sense right now.” Bucky seemed to shrink away at my voice. He carded his fingers through his hair while my gaze flickered over his body. He was wound so tight I worried he’d crumble right in front of me. “Please,” I whispered my voice softening as I took another step forward. “Tell me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t.”

“Why not? Bucky…why?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he hissed. “It shouldn’t…it shouldn’t be like this.”

I stared at him in confusion, trying to piece together his vague words. “Okay, okay,” I spoke to mostly myself but I knew Bucky heard. “You don’t have to tell me, that’s okay. Just, uh, explain, yeah. Explain to me what’s going on.”

Bucky sighed and dropped his head to his chest as if he was suddenly exhausted. His broad chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and I tried not to speak. I swallowed thickly and took a step back, to give him space though really he had enough.

“I don’t know…I don’t know how.” He began and I held my breath, afraid if I breathed too loudly I’d scare him. “It’s like, everything was a blur. I was okay, I felt, I loved, I knew what happiness was, I knew guilt and sadness. But it’s like nothing ever stuck, I just kept cycling through these emotions. And I, I always thought that if I ever met the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I’d have to lay all of the cards on the table. I thought I’d have to have this great intervention with the drama and the fanfare and the tears and everything.

“But then…but then I met you. And I didn’t have to explain anything. You just looked at me and smiled. And the way you look at me, it’s like I’m all you see, y’know? And I’ve never…that’s never happened before. Even on my worst days, you never wavered. You just held me and let me be me. I never had to worry about being Bucky or James or…him. I was just who I wanted to be and you…you loved me all the same. And I saw it, how much you loved me.

“I’m not…I’m not a good person. I know I’m not, but you don’t. You refused to believe it no matter what people told you, no matter how right they were. It’s like you didn’t care and you should because I’m…I’ve done bad things. And it scares me, it scares me that you can love me so unconditionally and I can’t even give you a fraction of that because I’ve done so much, I’ve done such terrible things that loving you can hardly make up for anything. And I tried, I tried so hard to make things right with you. To try and be good for you. But you saw through that too, you saw through it all and God it scared me.

“And I knew the only way for you to see, to understand me, was for you to hate me. Only then would you let me go. And I didn’t want…I never wanted to hurt you. And I know I did, I know what I said hurt you in ways I never wanted to imagine. But you just…you saw too much. You saw too much and you knew too much and you loved so goddamn much and I can’t give you that. I can’t give you the love you deserve, I can never give you that. But you don’t…you didn’t get it. And I tried to make you see it but you…didn’t so I had…I had to make you see.”

His voice broke at the very end, a sob wrenching through his clenched teeth and my heart nearly broke in two. His breath was ragged, as if what he had just told me equaled climbing Mount Everest.

“So…” I finally spoke as my mind struggled to wrap around what he said. “You don’t love me? Is this…is this the point? I love you but you don’t love me.”

“No, God, no.” Bucky shook his head as he carded a hand roughly through his hair. “Don’t you see? I love you too much. I love you so goddamn much it hurts. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t…it’s just, it’s not right.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as I crossed my arms. “Do you see a judge anywhere? Are we in some sort of Congressional meeting I’m not aware of? Is there a jury sitting at the security desk right now?”

He furrowed his brows. “No.”

“Awesome. Then what the fuck are you trying to prove and who the fuck are you trying to prove it to?” I glared at him as I spoke. Bucky opened his mouth but I was too angry to stop. “You know what Bucky, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Your past is fucked up. What happened to you is so beyond fucked up I can’t understand and I most definitely never will. But it’s exactly that. You’re past. You need to move on because I’m pretty sure everyone else has.”

“But–”

“Do not interrupt me.” I jammed a finger at him and he automatically shut his mouth. “You’re so goddamn immersed in your past you’re too blind to see what’s happening right in front of you. And you’re right. I did love you. I loved you so much that sometimes I don’t even think it’s real. Some nights I stay awake just to make a list of ways to prove to you how much I loved you without ever saying it.

“But fuck you. Fuck you for deciding who I love, or how I love, or when I love. Fuck you for not letting me prove it to you and not seeing it when I tried. Fuck you for never sticking around long enough and never showing that you cared. Fuck you for breaking my heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces afterwards. Fuck you for not staying.”

I was panting by the time I finished my rant. Everything in me buzzed as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. Bucky was silent as he stared at me, unmoving. I had never yelled like that before in my life and I was positive Bucky had never seen me like this.

“I’m–”

“Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” I shook my head and turned away from him, my stomach rolled and twisted uncomfortably. “God, I’m so mad at you. I’m so fucking mad.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

“Good,” I shot back. It was childish but I wasn’t about to let him get the last word. But as soon as I said it I felt a wave of exhaustion rush over me and my shoulders dropped in response. With a heavy sigh I rested my head against the cool glass in search of relief but found none. “What do you want from me Barnes?” I finally whispered.

“I want a second chance.”

I scoffed under my breath. “Second chance? I gave you too many chances. You had more than one opportunity to stay. You chose not to.”

“Fine,” Bucky acquiesced. “Give me one more chance.”

“Right,” I said bitterly. “What’s going to be so different about this one? You’re going to tell me you love me and then leave? Won’t that be the icing on the fucking cake?”

“Let me prove to you that I love you. This time, for real. No more running, no more games. I swear to you I’m gonna be there this time.”

I turned my head to the side and watched the moonlight dance on the steel beams of the door. “I don’t trust you,” I admitted honestly. I could feel the walls locking in around my chest, protecting me from whatever he said.

“I know,” he repeated. “Give me a chance to win that trust back.”

“That’s two chances, Bucky. You said one.”

“A chance to win your trust and another to prove that I love you, and that you love me too.” I turned to face him, about to give him a snarky remark but the moment I saw his face my voice died. He was open, raw, vulnerable. His eyes shimmered with unfallen tears and his gaze was so intense I felt as if I was drowning. “Please.” Just one word. But it was loaded with so much sincerity and desperation I couldn’t find it in me to say no.

“Okay,” I finally relented and his face utterly transformed. A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes and he immediately stood up straight. “This is not a yes,” I immediately snapped as I glared at him. “This is just an opportunity for redemption. But we go my pace. Whatever I say goes. You so much as cross a line I swear to–”

“I know.”

“And you’re not kissing me. Or touching me. Unless I say so. I’m serious Bucky, no funny–”

“I know.”

“This does not guarantee anything either. If I’m not happy or I don’t believe you then I have every right to–”

“I know.”

I scowled angrily at him as I placed my hands on my hips. “Do you know everything?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I know you.” I forced the scowl to stay on my lips despite the smile that threatened to shine through.

“Right, of course you do,” I grumbled.

“So,” he smiled that million dollar smile that made me weak in the knees the very first time I saw it,

“Will you stay?”

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