if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesnât matter, letâs get to know the person behind the blog ! (feel free to ignore)
I shal not ignore >:)
I fucking hate bees đ (KILL IT WITH FIRE) *jk I know their actually good for the environment but I still hate them*
i once burned my hand on a stove
i believe the freedom is the right of all sentient beings
Fr pressuring my self to remember things about myself
1. Despite my blog being mostly being pink & purple I prefer more earthy and pale colors IRL
2. I have three children cats, Blaze the oldest, Cleo the middle, and SNUGGLES the youngest child
3. I have had an extreme obsession with CREEPYPASTAS that I have had ever since the 5th grade and has led to my love of Gore, the forest, and serial killers.
1: I have a lot of pet mice, (donât come at me I think theyâre cute) I think the nest is about 25 strong now, but theyâve got a litter of babies so Iâll have more soon! (Donât worry I keep the numbers down enough to not be a problem, and the tank is really big so they arenât cramped)
2: I know all sorts of random facts thatâll never be useful in my life, but I know them anyway and some of them linger in my mind constantly
3: Iâve watched so many murder mystery shows with my family that if I needed to kill someone Iâd probably be able to get away with it
Once when I was like, really young, toddler age I think, I got my leg a little stuck in a hole on the side of the road and just straight up didn't react, just stared at it so my mom didn't notice until she turned around
I used to be in a Minecraft lore server, I never did much cause I'm stupid but yeah
My uncle has 2 cats and I love them dearly, but they're annoying asf
^ that was a dream once but I have a bunch of other stuff I wish I knew how to do but I'm having a big ol' crisis regarding my age and starting new things
since I brought it up, I'll be 30 in may x
(no pressure, just following the rules) @many-fandom-lover, @eleniblue, @lcolumbia1988, @trsgatitos, @katesatler, @tinysquirrrrrelgirl, @durgenyx
1). I have an odd accent due to where Iâm from and a speech impediment, itâs a mash up of a southern drawl and an English accent.
2). I love me some good Knick Knacks, Iâm always collecting something from my travels, even if it was just a town over.
3). On my momâs side of the family, Iâm the youngest, but on my dadâs side Iâm the middle child, Iâve been told that my energy is barely constrained chaosđ
@starswhispere (help, why am I still an introvert on tumblr?!)
(Back on my bullshit for this man. Though honestly it never left, it just waits, in the background, simmering like a forgotten pot on the back burner.)
This is the god of death, lord of all souls. He only comes to the surface when he has to(namely when one of his brotherâs fuck up) He has no purpose for this mortal body outside of heâsâ visits. Until he sees you, until he meets you. And suddenly heâs wishing the body was a little more permanentâŚ
genre : royalty, victorian era inspired, a little angsty, arranged marriage
word count : 1.2k
warnings : language, mentions of death / grief, self-doubt and not feeling good enough
note : for lapydiaries february event â remember to reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed!
when your mother, the queen, passes away; you are set to become the next queen. beginning a new reign for your country. however, not everyone is prepared for your new reign.
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN MOODBOARD
when the first rays of the dawn painted your chamber in hues of lavender and gold, you would usually find peace in the beauty. however, this morning you found no peace in it. instead, dreading the sun slowly rising. sleep having completely evaded you during the night. leaving you restless beneath your silk sheets of your grand yet empty bed.Â
you were beginning to feel the weight of everything pile on top of you. the weight of the crown, of duty, grief â it was all pressing down on you like an unseen force.Â
no one to help relieve or share the pressure.Â
the person who should share this bed with you laid asleep, peacefully probably, in his own private chamber.Â
with a quiet sigh, you slipped out from beneath the covers. a shiver running through you as your bare feet touched the cold marble floors. the palace was eerily silent during this hour, not even the servants had begun their morning routines yet. it felt like a rare moment of solitude, one that you didnât mind basking in. especially as you wandered through the empty corridors.
your feet carried you to the royal office without much thought. the room still smelled faintly of parchment and your motherâs floral perfume. a lingering trace of the woman who previously sat at the mahogany desk you stood at. your mother ruled with both grace and an iron will. the very thought of her made your chest tighten.Â
you took a deep breath before settling into the chair, the glow of the sun shining through the large windows. there were stacks of documents waiting for you to review â hongjoong having sorted them into different stacks: requests from nobles, tax reports, petitions â but none of them could honestly hold your attention. instead, your gaze drifted toward the drawers of the desk, the ones you have yet to look through and organize since your motherâs passing.Â
with hesitant fingers, you pulled one open.Â
a collection of old documents were what met your eyes â some from past rulers, others bearing your motherâs elegant handwriting. but amidst all the old documents sat something⌠unexpected. a box, dark mahogany with beautiful and intricate carvings was held closed with a delicate golden clasp.
curiosity got the better of you as you lifted it out, running your fingers over the surface before carefully opening it. inside, a neat stack of letters tied together with a silk ribbon.Â
you felt your breath hitch. some of the parchment had aged, but the writing remained unmistakable. these were your motherâs letters.Â
carefully, you sorted through them, your heart tightening as you read the names inscribed on each envelope â your grandmother, nobles of high standing, your father⌠and then, at the very bottom, one addressed to you.
with shaking fingers, you opened it.Â
my dearest y/n,Â
by the time you read this, i fear i will no longer be by your side. but you know that i have always watched over you, as i do now in spirit.Â
you felt your throat tighten as your motherâs words unfolded before you, speaking of hopes and worries, of a future she would not live to see.Â
i have seen the struggles between you and seonghwa. you love him, that much is clear. but love is not always enough to bridge the spaces between two people. my heart aches for you, my darling, for the burdens you bear and the ones yet to come.Â
i pray that in time, the two of you will find your way to each other. that the distance will fade, and you will not have to carry this loneliness forever.Â
tears splattered onto the parchment, staining the delicate paper. you covered your mouth, pressing the letter to your chest as a silent sob wracks through you.Â
you couldnât do this. you couldnât keep pretending that everything was fine when in truth you were breaking inside. first slowly, but now faster and faster with each passing day.Â
you missed your mother, leaving you too soon to take care of a country that was full of people who didnât see you fit enough to rule. with a husband who didnât love you â who you carelessly believed loved you only for his distance to continuously shatter you. you felt alone.Â
carefully, you wiped your tears before placing the letters back in the box and slid it into the drawer. the weight in your chest had not lessened, but exhaustion had finally crept into your system. you rested your head against the desk, letting the quiet lull you into a fitful slumber.
you awoke to the sound of hurried footsteps and panicked voices.Â
the muffled voices outside your office grew frantic, and the sudden noise startled you into alertness. you stand to look out the large, grand windows â the sun now sitting high in the morning sky. you see guards, maids, and other servants running around in a panic.Â
one guard tripping and landing in one of the flower bushes, a maid stopping, screaming at the guard as she pulls him up. you knew your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave at the sight you just witnessed.
suddenly, the door to your office was thrown open.Â
a figure burst inside â disheveled, breathless, and frantic.Â
seonghwa.Â
your eyes met, his filled with something raw and unguarded. then, before you could react, he was across the room, wrapping you in his arms.Â
you stiffened at first, startled by the rare show of affection. his embrace was warm, strong â so unlike the careful distance he always kept between the two of you. you felt his heartbeat thundering beneath your cheek, his hands firm against your back as if grounding himself in the fact that you were here, safe.Â
âyou scared me,â he murmured, voice slightly hoarse. âthe entire palace was in chaos looking for you. when they said you were missing, iâ
he cut himself off, exhaling a rather shaky breath before tightening his hold. âiâm just glad youâre alright.â
you barely registered his words. you could only focus on the way his arms felt around you. the way he was holding you like you mattered, like he was afraid to let go.Â
but then, just as quickly as the moment had come, he pulled away. carefully. the warmth of his touch lingered, but the space between you two felt colder. a sharp voice interrupted you both.Â
âyour majesty!â irene, your head maid, swept into the room, followed closely by mingi, one seonghwaâs trusted friend and guard. ireneâs eyes widened at the sight before her. she then quickly rushed to your side, wrapping a thick robe â where did she even get that? â around your shoulders.
âa queen should not be wandering the halls in only her negligee,â irene scolded lightly, shielding you from the prying eyes of the other guards outside.Â
it was then that you noticed the way seonghwaâs gaze flickered downward, just for a moment, before he quickly looked away. his jaw tightening as a faint flush dusted his cheeks. something in your chest fluttered.Â
seonghwa, always composed, always indifferent, had looked at you just not in a way you hadnât seen him do so in years. irene ushered you away, scolding you gently, but you barely registered her words.
your mind still stuck on the warmth of seonghwaâs arms. on the way his eyes had darkened just slightly as they lingered on her.Â
and as you followed irene through the corridors, you couldnât help but wonder â
Fred Weasley x Shy!Hufflepuff!Reader (soulmate au)
cw: fluff, not really anything but a little suggestive, a disgusting amount of use of y/n, this is my first post so pls be nice đ open to any criticism (like please im dying)
Word Count: 7.1k
･ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Grimmauld Place wasnât the cold, cursed house it once was. Not anymore.
With the war that never happened, with Regulus alive and the Potters untouched by Voldemortâs wrath, the Black family home had become something else entirely. It was still dark in places, still held echoes of the old ways, but now there were charmed lights, mismatched furniture, and constant noise. There were loud dinners and louder debates. Music drifting down halls, laughter echoing off portrait covered walls, and Sirius (very much alive) arguing with James over whether or not the chandelier was meant to swing like that.
It was home, in a way y/n had never really known.
She was a Hufflepuff, soft-spoken and polite, far too used to fading into the background of louder Gryffindor personalities. But somehow, sheâd been pulled into the gravitational orbit of Harry, Ron, and Hermione early in first year, and now, years later, she was here, spending her holidays surrounded by magic, noise, and people who were far too bright for someone soâŚquiet.
And yet, they kept inviting her back.
Every Christmas, every Easter, every summer she was welcome. The Potters treated her like one of their own. Molly Weasley fussed over her hair and fed her second helpings before she could politely decline. Remus always had a book recommendation just for her, and Regulus, not nearly as terrifying as sheâd once thought, would quietly set a cup of tea down beside her without saying a word.
It was perfect, almost.
Except for the mark. And for Fred Weasley.
Sheâd known for a while. The soft swirl of ink on her skin, a curling feather paired with an ember, intricate and strange and impossibly him. Soulmarks appeared in adolescence, and hers had been there since fourth year, hidden beneath long sleeves and jumpers. It was delicate. Beautiful. And unmistakably Fred's, once sheâd seen his in passing during summer at the Burrow.
His mark matched hers exactly. His just happened to be inked proudly on the inside of his forearm, often visible as he pushed up his sleeves to cook, or tinker, or just walk around like it didnât matter that his soulmate was clearly nowhere in sight. Except she was right there.
Sitting across from him at breakfast. Laughing quietly at his jokes. Helping Hermione clean out the attic while he and George planned pranks two rooms away. She was right thereâheart thudding every time he brushed past her, never looking close enough to see.
Because how could he?
Fred was sunlight and fire. Charismatic and funny, brilliant in a way that burned. She⌠was not. She was Ronâs friend, quiet and kind and perpetually wrapped in oversized jumpers. Her sleeves always long enough to hide the mark. Always careful, always cautious.
She couldnât tell him. Not when he deserved someone who matched his energy, someone bold and quick and magical in a way that sparkled, not lingered in corners. And not when Ron might very well lose his mind. The idea of dating anyone was already enough to get him fussy. But his best friend with his brother? No, thank you. So she kept it quiet. She watched Fred laugh with George and throw his head back around the fire. She helped Ginny repaint her room and stayed up late reading with Harry. She smiled and listened and never let her sleeves slip.
And Fred? Fred didnât seem to notice.
He spoke to her kindly, joked like he did with everyone, but never once looked at her the way soulmates were supposed to look. He was waiting for someone else. Someone loud. Someone obvious. Someone not her.
So she stayed hidden. Quiet. Long sleeves in summer. Careful, careful always.
But magic has a way of dragging the truth out.
And houses, especially ones as alive as Grimmauld Place, never stay quiet for long.
･ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The first time it happened, it was barely anything.
Y/n was reaching past Fred to grab a spoon from the kitchen drawer, murmuring a soft âsorryâ as she brushed by. But her fingers, just the tips, skated over the bare skin of his forearm where his sleeves were rolled up.
Her breath caught.
The world tilted, just slightly.
It felt like static, like lightning dressed up as a whisper, quick and electric and too much all at once. Her mark flared under her jumper, not in pain, but in awareness. She yanked her hand back like sheâd been burned and mumbled an apology.
Fred, for his part, blinked. It had registered. Not fully, not consciously maybe, but something in him had noticed. He glanced down at his arm, then back at her, confused.
âHuh,â he whispered, more to himself than her.
But she was already halfway out of the kitchen, hands shaking, fingers curled to her chest like she could press the feeling back in. She didnât look back.
･ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The second time, it was worse.
Fred and George were helping Sirius repair a shelf in the sitting room, and y/n, curled in her usual armchair, offered to help pass tools from the box. Sirius had wandered off to yell at James about the missing nails, so it was just her and the twins. She handed Fred the small hammer, their fingers brushing again. That time, it was deliberate. Not on purpose but not a mistake either. Her fingers grazed his knuckles, and something tugged in her chest so hard it made her dizzy. Her heart tried to climb up her throat. Fred froze.
Just for a second. Barely enough for George to notice, but enough that y/n did. His fingers tightened around the handle like it grounded him. Then his eyes flicked up to her, just a beat too long.
âThanks,â he said. A little quieter than usual.
She gave a small, strangled nod and buried herself in her book, eyes fixed on the same line for ten minutes without reading a single word.
Fred tried to shake it off. He did shake it off. He always had random moments of weirdness, too much static from Georgeâs spellwork, or a quirk from living in a magical house full of twenty people. ButâŚ
That night, lying awake in the room he shared with George, Fred found his thoughts wandering. Back to her. Back to the way her fingers had touched his. How her voice went a bit breathless when she was nervous. How she always wore long sleeves, even when it was boiling. He didnât know why he noticed those things. Or why it suddenly mattered.
･ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The third time it happened, neither of them could write it off.
She was helping Molly in the garden, potting herbs in little clay jars for the kitchen. Fred came out to drop off lunch, arms full of sandwiches and his usual grin slanted across his face. He sat beside her in the grass without being asked. They talked, about nothing, about gnomes, about Regulusâs weird attachment to one of the garden cats. It was easy, which was always the most dangerous kind of moment. Fred passed her a cup of lemonade, fingers brushing hers again and this time?
It jolted.
Like something cracked open between them. Their marks pulsed; hers beneath cloth, his in open air.
She gasped. He flinched.
The cup slipped, lemonade spilling over her skirt. But neither of them moved right away staying frozen in place, eyes locked.
âWhat wasââ he started, then stopped.
She stood too fast, mumbling, stammering, heart beating so loud she could barely breathe.
âIâI shouldâgo inside,â she whispered, not looking at him.
Fred didnât stop her. Couldnât. He sat in the grass, lemonade dripping from his fingers, staring after her with the mark on his arm tingling.
･ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Later, heâd sit in his room, legs folded, staring at the design heâd always worn like decoration.
The feather and ember. Curling inwards.Â
Familiar in a way that now made him uneasy.
Because heâd felt something. Three times now.
And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize it wasnât just random sparks.
It was her.
It had to be.Â
Her quiet hands, soft eyes, and the way she always wore long sleeves in the middle of August.Â
Fred Weasley had never been more confused in his life.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
George wasnât a mind-reader. He just had a twin.
Which meant that he didnât need to hear Fredâs thoughts to know something was up. All he had to do was watch. And lately, Fred had been looking.
At her.
At y/n.
Not that she noticed. She was the kind of person who made herself small without meaning to, always tucking herself into corners like she didnât belong in the noise. But George had noticed. Had alwaysnoticed. Because Fred noticed. And now it was getting⌠suspicious.
It had started with the garden. George heard about it from Ginny, whoâd seen Reader nearly bolt inside âlike her skirt was on fire.â Fred had come in ten minutes later, weirdly quiet, and gone straight upstairs. Alone. No commentary. No dramatic reenactment. Just gone.
That wasnât normal.
And then there was the way Fred had been rubbing his forearm lately. Not in pain. More like restlessness. That same forearm with the soulmate mark.
George wasnât the sentimental sort. He and his own soulmate, Angelina, had figured it out fast and easy. No dramatics. No poetry. Just a âhey, youâve got the same weird lightning bolt-and-laughing mask combo as me, want to make this official?â and a kiss behind Zonkoâs.
But Fred? Fred had always been the one whoâd imagined something⌠more. Heâd always joked about a âbig, cinematic reveal.â He wanted the drama. The passion. Fireworks.
Instead, he got a Hufflepuff girl who tripped over her own feet when he looked at her for too long.
George, naturally, found this hilarious.
And also, a little bit endearing.
So he decided to help. Subtly.
Which, for a Weasley twin, meant just enough chaos to get things moving.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
It started with lunch. Everyone was crowded into the dining room at Grimmauld Place, half the house seated elbow-to-elbow, passing plates and shouting over one another. Y/n was nestled between Ginny and Hermione, picking at her salad, while Fred sat across the table talking to Harry, but watching her.Â
George leaned in. âYouâve been acting weird,â he muttered under his breath.
Fred blinked. âWhat?â
âYouâve got that look,â George said, stabbing his fork into his food without looking. âLike youâve seen a ghost. Or fallen into a hopeless, soulmate-level crush.â
Fred choked on his water.
George slapped him on the back. âThere it is.â
âI have notââ Fred hissed, glancing around, but no one was paying attention.
George raised an eyebrow. âThen why do you keep staring at y/n like sheâs got a secret youâre trying to read off her face?â
Fred went quiet.
And that was enough for George.
He smirked.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The next morning, George took it up a notch.
âHey, y/nâ he said casually, popping into the sitting room where she was curled up with a book. âYou ever get those random soulmate mark flares? Like, warm spells or zaps or whatever?â
She stiffened. Just slightly. But he caught it.
âUmâŚâ she said softly. âSometimes, I guess. Not lately.â
Lie.
He grinned like it was nothing. âWeird. Fredâs been saying his has been going bonkers lately.â
That was also a lie. Fred hadnât said a word. But she didnât need to know that.
She bit her lip.
George walked off like he hadnât just dropped a match into a bucket of gasoline.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Later that night, Fred cornered him. âYouâre messing with me.â
George looked deeply unbothered. âI donât know what you mean.â
Fred crossed his arms. âTelling y/n about my mark flaring up?â
âIs it not?â George blinked innocently. âI figured it was. Youâve been rubbing at it like itâs got fleas.â
Fredâs hand dropped from his arm like heâd been caught red-handed.
âIâm justââ Fred faltered. âI think I might know whoââ
George leaned in, smug. âDo tell.â
Fred shook his head. âItâs stupid. Sheâsâshe wouldnât⌠I mean, sheâs Ronâs friend. Sheâs shy. She never even looks at me.â
Georgeâs face softened. âYeah, and youâre not exactly subtle either. She looks at you when youâre not looking. All the time.â
Fred stared at him.
George just clapped a hand on his shoulder. âDonât overthink it. Justâpay attention. Maybe the drama youâre waiting for is already happening. Quietly.â
Fred didnât say anything. But that night, when he saw y/n helping Lily with tea, her sleeves pulled to her wrists again in the middle of summer, he looked a little closer. And the next time their hands brushed, he didnât pull away quite so fast.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The house had gone unusually quiet. It was late, later than it shouldâve been. The kind of late where the halls of Grimmauld Place creaked softly under their own weight and the enchanted lanterns had dimmed to a golden haze. Everyone else was asleep or pretending to be, tucked into mismatched rooms and beds far too small for the growing number of people they now housed.
Fred wasnât tired. Not really.
He was restless, mind buzzing with a quiet, nagging hum he couldnât shake. He wandered toward the sitting room, where the fireplace still crackled low, and nearly turned back when he saw someone already there.
It was her.
She was curled into the armchair closest to the hearth, blanket draped across her lap, a half-read book cradled against her chest. Her head tilted toward the firelight, and for a second, just one brief aching second, Fred forgot how to move.
She looked like something out of a memory he hadnât made yet. Peaceful. Soft. Warm. She didnât hear him at first. And maybe he shouldâve left. Shouldâve turned and given her the quiet she clearly came looking for. But then she shifted, reaching down to adjust the blanket. And her sleeve slipped.
Just for a moment.
Just far enough.
Fredâs breath caught. He didnât mean to stare, he didnât mean to, but he did.
There, just above her wrist, half hidden in the shadows and the folds of soft knit fabric, was the familiar curve of a feather. Dark ink curling up her forearm. The exact lines heâd traced a hundred times with his eyes, maybe more.
His own mark.
His soulmateâs mark.
On her.
She didnât see him. She didnât know. And Fred didnât say a word. He stepped back, quietly, breath barely held between his teeth as he turned and walked away, heart slamming so hard against his ribs it made his palms sweat.
He didnât sleep that night.
The next morning, nothing had changed.
Not on the surface. Y/n sat beside Hermione at breakfast, soft-spoken and sweet, sleeves tugged back down like usual. Fred wandered in late, hair mussed, eyes shadowed from too little rest. George gave him a look. Fred ignored it. He didnât speak to her. Not directly. Not yet.
But he watched.
He saw her.
The way she laughed softly at Harryâs joke. The way her fingers danced nervously around her mug. The way she chewed the inside of her cheek when Ron brought up the Yule Ball from two years ago. And he wondered: how long had she known? Because sheâd known. She had to. No one hid a soulmate mark that well on accident. Fredâs hand drifted down to his own arm, fingers brushing the mark heâd never bothered to hide. He thought about the garden. The lemonade. Her silence. Sheâd known. And she hadnât told him. And for once, Fred didnât have a joke ready. No quip. No grin.
Just a quiet question that gnawed at the edge of his ribs:
Why not?
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Grimmauld Place was asleep. The kind of deep, velvet silence that only came in the earliest hours, long after the laughter faded and the house finally stopped creaking under the weight of too many footsteps and too many secrets.
Y/n stood barefoot in the cold kitchen, fingers wrapped around a glass of water, watching moonlight spill through the tall, grimy window above the sink. She wore only a soft tank top and sleep shorts, loose and plain. Something she never wouldâve worn in the daytime, not in this house. Not when she spent every waking moment covering the one part of herself she couldnât let anyone see. But it was late. Everyone was asleep. Or so she thought.
The cold tile cooled her toes as she took a small sip, her mind foggy from sleep and the residual tug of dreams she couldnât quite remember. She set the glass down and turnedÂ
toward the hallway whenâ
âDidnât mean to scare you.â
She jumped. Actually jumped, heart lurching into her throat.
Fred Weasley stood in the doorway, shirtless, pajama pants hanging low on his hips, hair a riot of copper and curls. He blinked at her, one hand dragging across his face. Sleepy.Â
Surprised.
Too awake.
âIâsorry,â she stammered, taking a quick step back, her right arm instantly crossing over her left, covering the exposed mark on her upper forearm.
Fredâs eyes dropped, just for a second. And that was all it took.
The curve of the feather. The ember trailing into soft spirals. Her soulmate mark. His soulmate mark.
Exposed for half a heartbeat before she shielded it with trembling fingers.
He knew.
He knew.
But she didnât know he knew.
He looked up again just as she spoke, fast and brittle.Â
âDidnât think anyone else would be awake.â
âCouldnât sleep,â Fred said casually, voice rough with the kind of tired that doesnât come from a lack of rest.
She nodded, backing away with practiced grace, arm still clutched tightly against her side. âWellâgoodnight.â
âNight,â he echoed softly.
She left quickly, bare feet nearly silent on the wooden floors. He waited until he couldnât hear her anymore before sinking down onto one of the kitchen stools, elbows on the counter, head in his hands.
She was his soulmate.
He'd been almost sure after that night by the fire. Heâd been hopeful after George started poking around. After the strange spark between them. The softness. The hesitation.
But nowâŚ
Heâd seen it.
No mistaking it. No room for doubt.
She had known.
And she was still hiding.
Fred exhaled slowly, staring down at his own forearm; the same mark, bold and bare, exposed for years. She mustâve thought he didnât want her. Did she really believe that?That she wasnât what he wanted?
He stood slowly, the kitchen too quiet, the glass still sitting where sheâd left it. Fred didnât sleep for the rest of the night. He just sat awake, mind turning, heart aching, not angry. Just full. Too full.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
He didnât say anything.
Not about the mark.
Not about that night.
But everything changed.
Not suddenly, not in a way most people would notice. But she noticed. Of course she did. Y/n had spent her entire life listening for the quiet things.
And Fred was loud, normally. Wild, quick-tongued, sharp and sun-bright.
But now, when it came to her?
He was quiet.
Intentional.
Soft.
He started sitting closer. Not in a crowded kind of way, not too close, just enough. Just near enough that she noticed the warmth of him before she even saw him. Heâd fold himself into the couch beside her while she read. Heâd sit at the table early if she was already there. No grand entrances. No loud jokes. Just.. presence.
And his mark, his soulmate mark, was always in sight.
Not aggressively. Not on display. But visible. Sleeves rolled up. Arm on the back of the chair. Subtle things.
And heâd glance at her sometimes, not at her face, but at the fabric she wore. The way her sleeves were always pulled long. Like he was waiting. Wondering.
She noticed. She noticed all of it.
It terrified her.
Because something was changing, but she didnât know what.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
One afternoon, when the rest of the house was loud with Ginny and Ron arguing over a chess match, Reader sat alone in the sunroom, curled in her favorite corner chair with a book sheâd been trying to read for over an hour. She didnât hear him come in. But suddenly he was there. Holding a mug of tea. Her tea. The exact way she took it. No one else ever remembered.
He handed it to her wordlessly, then sat on the floor beside the chair, close enough for his knee to rest near her ankle, but not quite touching.
âThanks,â she said softly.
He didnât look up. âYou always read when things get loud.â
Her heart flipped. âIt helps me think.â
âYeah?â He rested his head back against the edge of her chair, voice low. âI think Iâd rather listen to you than them.â
She nearly dropped the mug. He didnât press. Just closed his eyes and let the silence settle around them, warm and fragile. And she wondered, was this how he was with everyone? But she knew the answer.
It kept happening. Small, impossible things.
Fred started remembering details about her, little ones no one else had ever bothered to ask.
The kind of books she liked. The way she hated cold butter on toast. The exact spell she struggled with during sixth year. And then one morning, in the kitchen, he reached across her to grab a jar, his fingers brushing the fabric at her wrist.
âSorry,â he said, too gently. Like he didnât mean just for the touch.
She flinched anyway. And Fred, his smile didnât fade. But it shifted. Softer. Sadder. Like he understood. Like he didnât want her afraid.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her arm cradled to her chest. He was acting like someone who wanted her. Not just liked her. Not just thought she was funny or nice.Â
Wanted her. Desperately. Quietly. Like he didnât know how to say it.
And she didnât understand why.
Sheâd always thought she wasnât his type. But then why was Fred Weasley, flirt, prankster, golden boy, bringing her tea and memorizing how she liked her jam and sitting on the floor just to be near her? UnlessâŚ
No.
He couldnât know.
Could he?
Down the hall, Fred sat at the edge of his bed, arm resting on his knee, thumb tracing over the familiar lines of his mark.He had no idea what he was doing. No plan. No script. Just one stubborn, overwhelming truth:
He wanted her.
Exactly as she was.
Quiet, and scared, and soft.
And he would wait.
As long as it took.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
It was nearly two in the morning. The house had fallen into that thick, uncanny quiet again, too still for a place always brimming with life.
Y/n hadnât meant to be up this late, but sheâd left her sketchbook in the old study off the second floor and she couldn't sleep without it.
Barefoot, hoodie tugged low over her sleep shorts, she padded through the corridor, heart calm, unaware she wasnât alone. Not until she turned the corner. And crashed directly into Fred Weasley.
She gasped as she hit him, stumbling back, only for his arms to catch her, steady her, pull her in.
It was instinct, fast and clumsy, not meant to be more than a reflex, but it was more. Because she ended up backed against the wall. And Fred? Fred didnât step away. Neither of them moved. Not for one long, crackling second.
He was so close. She could feel the heat of his chest against hers, the brush of his breath where it hit the shell of her ear. One of his hands was braced beside her head, the otherâlower, hovering near her waist like he didnât know if he was allowed to touch. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. He looked down at her like she was something precious he wasnât sure he deserved.
And thenâ
He did touch her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His hands, warm and calloused, slid under the hem of her jumper. Not far. Just enough to find her bare waist. He exhaled sharply through his nose, like he hadnât expected to feel so much from something so simple.
She trembled.
His thumbs moved in slow, careful circles. Up and down. Feather-light. Barely there. But there. Anchoring. Worshipful.
âSorry,â he whispered, but he didnât pull away. âI justâŚâ
He never finished the sentence.
Because her breath hitched. Her hands curled into the front of his shirt like she didnât know what to do with herself. And then, just like that, she unraveled.
She ducked under his arm, half-stumbled, and all but ran down the hall. Fred didnât follow. He pressed his back to the wall, dragging a hand down his face, his skin still buzzing where heâd touched her. His fingers still remembering the curve of her waist. The soft warmth of her. The way sheâd melted into his hands before she ran. He didnât know if he should be kicking himself or chasing after her.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
She didnât sleep.
She lay in bed, blanket up to her chin, every inch of her skin still singing. Not just from his hands. From how heâd touched her. Gentle. Slow. Like he wanted her. Like he knew what she was.
She pressed her palms to her burning cheeks and wanted to scream into her pillow. He hadnât said anything. But he hadnât needed to. And now she didnât know how to look at him again.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
He didnât sleep either.
Because now? Now he knew she felt it too. That this wasnât in his head. That even if she ran, even if she hid her mark under long sleeves and tried to pretend, She wanted him too.
And Fred Weasley had never in his life wanted anything more.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Sheâd been avoiding him.
Not overtly, y/n was too subtle for that. But Fred wasnât oblivious. Not anymore. Not to her. She moved differently around him now, like he was heat she couldnât bear to stand too close to for long. Always out of the room just before he entered, always keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but on his face.Â
He gave her space. At first.
But he was starting to burn from the inside out.
And then, one evening, it just happened.
The house was noisy with after-dinner chatter, Harry and Ron yelling over wizard chess in the lounge, Ginny and Hermione helping Lily in the kitchen, James loudly threatening to sing. Fred slipped away to the hallway, needing air. And thatâs when he saw her.
She stood by the old bookshelf near the stairs, arms folded, face turned toward the high, half-cracked window. Moonlight caught the side of her face. She looked calm, but her fingers were fidgeting, like she was trying to undo the nerves curled up inside her chest.
He didnât think.
He moved.
âHi.â
She jumpedâagainâand looked over, startled. âOh. Hi.â
Fred smiled, soft, nervous. âDidnât mean to sneak up on you. You okay?â
She nodded. âYeah. Just needed a minute.â
âMe too.â
He leaned beside her, close but not touching. Silence stretched between them, not awkward, but full. Of questions. Of things unsaid.Â
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye âYouâve been⌠quiet.â
She let out a breath. âIâm always quiet.â
Fred turned his head, really looking at her now. âNo, I meanâŚÂ quieter. Around me.â
That landed. She froze, just for a second. âI donât mean to be.â
âYou donât have to be afraid of me, you know.â
She flinched like it was a touch.
âIâm notâafraid of you.â
âThen what are you afraid of?â That cracked it open. Just a little.
Her throat bobbed, her eyes darted away, and her voice came out barely above a whisper. âOf wanting something I canât have.â
And that almost broke him.
Because Merlin, if she only knew.
Fred took a breath, sharp, quiet, unsteady. His heart was pounding, his hands twitching with the need to reach out, to touch her again, to press his mouth to her jaw and tell her everything.
She was right there. Inches away.
He turned, stepped closer.
She looked up.
And it was all there. In her eyes. Her breath. The way her lips parted like she was waiting for something, anything.
Fred leaned in.
His hand lifted, hovered near her face, near her hair, her neck.
So close.
He opened his mouth.
âIâŚâ
Her eyes widened.
His voice caught.
And thenâ
He didnât say it.
Didnât say I know.
Didnât say I saw.
Didnât say I want you too.
Instead, he exhaled. A quiet, rough thing. And let his hand fall to his side.
âGoodnight,â he whispered.
He stepped away. Left her standing there, staring after him like heâd stolen the air from the room.
And down the hall, out of sight, Fred ran a hand through his hair and whispered to himself: âCoward.â
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Fred was brooding. Again.
He stood in the backyard, leaned against the garden wall, chewing absently on a blade of grass like it might stop him from thinking about her.
It didnât.
Of course it didnât.
George found him like that. Arms crossed. Mark visible. Soulmate-level angst radiating off him in waves.
âYouâre being pathetic,â George announced.
Fred sighed. âHello to you, too.â
âNo, seriously,â George said, throwing an arm around his twinâs shoulder. âYouâre acting like youâve been love-cursed. Youâve seen her mark. You know sheâs yours. She wants you. And youâre still walking around here like youâre waiting for the Sorting Hat to give you permission.â
Fred groaned. âItâs not that simpleââ
George spun to face him. âIT IS EXACTLY THAT SIMPLE.â Fred blinked. George threw up his hands.
âYou know what sheâs like, mate. Sheâs shy. Sheâs scared. And sheâs convinced youâre not into her. You waiting for her to get a telescope and decode your emotional signals from space?â
Fred scowled. âIâm trying not to scare her off. You didnât see the way she ran after I touched her.â
George put a hand to his heart. âOkay. Fine. Yes. Youâre soft and sweet and respectful. We all love that about you. But if you donât kiss her soon, I will lose my mind.â
Fred laughed despite himself.
âAnd!â George added, âI have a plan.â
Fred narrowed his eyes. âI donât like that look.â
âYou will,â George grinned. âYouâre going to take her to the lake.â
Fred blinked. âWhat lake?â
âThe lake, Fred. The one five minutes from here, the one that glows at night from the enchanted algae, the one thatâs literally built for soulmate confessions and forehead touching and tragic stargazing. That lake.â
Fred hesitated. George leaned in, lower and dead serious. âJust you and her. No interruptions. You tell her you want to show her something. You walk her down there. You sit next to her. You take her hand. And thenâyou tell her.â
Fred swallowed. âAnd if she runs again?â he asked, quiet.
George shrugged. âThen at least sheâll be running away knowing sheâs wanted. And thatâs already more than what she thinks now.â
That shut Fred up.
Because George was right.
She didnât know.
She couldnât possibly know, not really.
And heâd waited long enough.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
That evening, just as the sun dipped behind the trees, Fred found her on the back steps, hugging a blanket to her chest, watching the sky fade into twilight.
âHey,â he said softly.
She looked up.
âWant to take a walk?â
Her brows pulled together. âWhere?â
âI want to show you something.â
She hesitated. But then she nodded. And Fred offered his hand. She took it.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The lake shimmered like spilled stardust.
Soft blue light bloomed beneath its glassy surface, illuminating the mossy edges and casting a pale glow over the quiet trees that stood like silent sentinels around them. The night air was warm, the kind of summer air that held you gently and smelled like grass and faint wildflowers.
Fred tugged off his shirt with a lazy smirk, the light catching along the lines of his back as he dropped it onto the grass. Y/n sat at the edge of the dock, bare feet swaying in the water, ankles glowing softly from the magic below.
She tried not to look at him.
And failed.
He stretched, slow and unbothered, then glanced at her over his shoulder with a teasing grin. âYou coming in?â
She sputtered. âW-what?â
He stepped toward the water, now only in his swim shorts. âYou heard me. Itâs perfect. Youâre wasting it.â
She shook her head, clutching her knees to her chest. âNope. Iâm good here. On land. Where thereâs⌠gravity?â
Fred grinned wider and slipped into the water with barely a splash.
She watched him, face warm. Too warm. Her stomach buzzed like sheâd swallowed a snitch.
He swam a few strokes, then turned and began drifting toward her again, slow and smooth like some sea creature sent to ruin her life. And ruin her life he did.
Because he reached the edge of the dock, hands sliding gently onto her thighs, wet and warm and intentional, and pulled himself closer between her knees, water dripping down his chest, his face suddenly very close to hers. Her breath vanished.
His hands moved up, grazing her bare skin beneath her sleep shorts, then settled on her hips, fingers curling around the soft waistband. He tilted his head, smirk lazy but his eyes, his eyes, hungry.
âStill not tempted?â he murmured, voice low and soaked in amusement.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
âIâIâm not really⌠swim-prepared.â
âNeither am I,â he grinned. âBut here I am. No excuses.â
âIâthis isnât fair,â she whispered.
âWhatâs not?â
âYou.â Her voice cracked. âYou being this close andâtouching me andâlooking at me like that.â
Fred leaned in closer, lips just a breath from hers. âLike what?â
She couldnât answer.
Couldnât think.
Her hands gripped the dock beside her, knuckles white. His fingers squeezed her hips just slightly, like he was grounding her, keeping her from floating away.
They sat in that charged silence, barely breathing, until Fred whispered, âCan I kiss you?â
She nodded before she even realized it.
And then his mouth was on hers.
Soft. Gentle. But hungry, too. Like heâd been starving and she was the first taste of something real. Her entire body went stiff, shocked, and then melted, mouth opening under his, hands rising shakily to his shoulders.
Fred kissed her like he already knew every inch of her, slow, reverent, deep. One hand slipped under the hem of her oversized sleep top, dragging up the damp fabric to feel more of her skin, and her breath caught.
She hesitated.
Pulled back, just slightly.
Fred paused, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted. âPlease, baby,â he whispered, voice so soft it didnât even echo.Â
And that was it.
She gave in.
Let him pull the shirt up, let him kiss her again as her hands found their way into his dripping hair. Everything else vanished; the dock, the trees, the whole damn world, except him. Fred's hand found her wrist. The one she always kept covered. She didn't even realize.
Not until he pulled away and brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss directly to her mark.
Her soulmark.
His soulmateâs mark.
Her breath stopped.
The world crashed back in.
She froze, stiff as stone.
Fred felt it immediately. Pulled back, confused.
âHey. Whatâs wrong?â
But she was already scrambling, grabbing her shirt, slipping it back over her head like armor.
âIâI have to go.â
âWaitââ
âIâm sorryâI justââ she stood, wild-eyed, barefoot, heart racing.
Fred stood in the water, blinking, arms half-outstretched, the blue light painting him in soft silver. âPlease, loveââ
But she was already moving.
Already gone.
Running.
Again.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
Once again she didnât sleep.
She couldnât.
Her skin still buzzed with the ghost of his hands,on her waist, her thighs, her wrist. His mouth on her mark. His voice in her ear.
âPlease, baby.â
She clutched her knees to her chest in the corner of the bed, oversized hoodie drowning her frame, heart racing so hard it felt like something might snap inside her.
Sheâd ruined it.
Whatever gentle, burning thing existed between her and Fred, sheâd burned it down. She shouldâve stopped it. She shouldâve said no. She shouldâve never let it happen.
But when he kissed her like that, when he touched her like she was something precious, how could she not fall apart?
And then he saw the mark. Kissed the mark. And he hadnât said anything, but she knew. Knew the second it happened that he knew. Now what?
Avoidance. That was the only plan. The only survival method she had left.Â
So the next morning, she didnât come down for breakfast. She skipped lunch. Pretended to nap. Hid in the upstairs library until nearly everyone had gone to bed. But George Weasley was waiting.
He cornered her just outside the second floor bathroom, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like heâd been lying in wait all day.
She froze.
He raised a brow. âYou planning to hide for the rest of your natural life, or just until Fred starts crying into his pillow?â
Her stomach dropped. âGeorgeâplease donâtââ
âNope.â He stood, arms flinging wide. âAbsolutely not. I let you both have your tension. I let you pretend like the longing stares were just 'coincidences'. I even let Fred spiral in peace for, like, months. But this?â He pointed at her hoodie. âThis is mark-covering shame mode. And Iâve had enough.â
âIâI donât know what youâre talking about,â she said too quickly, backing up a step.
George just stared at her like she was the slowest puzzle heâd ever solved.
âI know what happened,â he said, voice gentler now. âFred told me. Heâs been losing his mind.â
Her heart stopped. âHeâhe told you?â
âNot everything. Just that something happened. That he messed up. That he thinks he pushed you too far.â
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
George softened, stepping closer. âLook, I get it. Youâre scared. You think he only wants you because of the mark. You think maybe if heâd found out differentlyâless⌠nakedâheâd have changed his mind.â
Tears stung the back of her eyes. She looked away.
âBut hereâs the thing.â George ducked his head to catch her eye again. âFred was in love with youbefore he ever saw the mark. Before you kissed. Before the lake. Before anything.â
She sucked in a breath.
âI know my brother,â he continued, voice low, steady. âHe doesnât do this. He doesnât look at someone like heâs been struck by lightning unless itâs real.â
Her throat burned. âBut what if itâs not enough? What ifâwhat if he regrets it? What if Iâm not who he wanted me to be?â
George reached out, placed his hands on her shoulders gently.
âYou are exactly who he wanted. Youâve always been.â
She blinked fast, tears catching in her lashes.
âFred is absolutely wrecked over you rightÂ
now,â George said. âHe thinks he scared you away. He thinks you regret it. He thinks heâs lost his chance.â
âI donât regret it,â she whispered, voice cracking.
âThen tell him.â George squeezed her shoulders, smiling slightly. âTell him before he sets something on fire in your honor. Heâs very dramatic when heartbroken.â
She let out a shaky laugh.
âJust⌠talk to him,â George said softly. âLet him show you how much he wants you. Because he does. Mark or no mark. All of you.â
She nodded, finally. Barely.
ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠･ďž
The hallway outside Fredâs room was dim, the shadows long and flickering with the soft glow of the sconces. The house had finally gone quiet again, filled with the hush of night.
She stood at his door for a full minute before she could bring herself to raise her hand.
She didnât knock.
She just opened it.
Fred looked up from where he sat at the edge of his bed, hair messy from running his hands through it, shirt rucked up slightly where heâd been tugging at the hem in frustration. He froze when he saw her.
Eyes wide. Lips parting.
He stood slowly.
âHey,â he said, voice rough. âIââ
But she didnât let him finish.
Didnât say anything.
She crossed the space in two heart-thudding steps, grabbed the front of his shirt in trembling hands, and kissed him like her life depended on it.
It wasnât soft. It wasnât careful.
It was everything sheâd been holding in for months. All the terror. All the longing. All the slow-burning want that had curled in her belly since the first time he touched her and she felt it.
Her mark burned under her sleeve, but she didnât care.
Fred made a choked sound against her mouth, surprised, but then he was kissing her back with equal desperation. Hands on her waist, her hips, gripping like he wasnât sure she was real.
He backed her toward the bed without ever breaking the kiss, swallowing her gasp as he gently eased her down with him, her legs falling to either side of his hips as he hovered over her, still drinking her in like she was made of light and he was starved. She was trembling. He broke away just long enough to breathe, his forehead pressed to hers.
âYou came,â he whispered, like he couldnât believe it.
She nodded against him, still too breathless to speak.
Fredâs hand came up, brushing the hair from her face, thumb resting on her jaw.
âI was so worried Iâd scared you away.â
âYou didnât,â she breathed. âIâI justââ
He kissed her again before she could spiral. Slower this time. Reverent. Like she was something sacred and heâd never get tired of worshipping her.
When his hands drifted beneath her jumper again, she didnât stop him. She let him pull it over her head, slow, careful, and this time, her soulmate mark was fully exposed in the dim light. Her skin burned under his gaze, but she didnât flinch.
Fred stilled.
She could barely look at him.
But when she finally dared to lift her eyes to his, she found something there that broke her.
Wonder. Awe. And something so devastatingly tender it made her chest ache.
He didnât speak.
He didnât need to.
Instead, he reached for her wrist, just like before.
Everyday at exactly 12:30 pm an old man bent with age would come in the small corner market Vanessa worked in. He would always get the same premade salad, small yogurt cup, and a small apple juice. There was a trace of an accent to his voice, but it had faded with time away from the place of origin. Vanessa would ring up his food and try to make small talk with him. The man was bald, with a grizzly look and a beard. His eyes were blue and seemed to weep with grief.
Vanessa wondered if his shoulders were hunched over with grief as well.
Vanessa picked at the peeling film on the old counter, propping her chin on one hand as her bracelets tickled with the moment, any moment the old man would come in and she would have to fight herself to keep her mouth shut, to keep from scaring him.
The bell over the door sounded and she snapped to attention, straightening her back and turning her head with a smile and. Her smile dropped when it was just her friend, long thick brunette hair hiding her face, just how she liked it. Vanessa chuckled and snapped a picture and sent it to the group chat labeled with âA rare sighting!â And then noticed the time, 12:34, she instantly frowned and set her phone down, looking over to the door and tapping her manicured nails on the counter. He was late.
âWhatâs got ya panties in a twist?â
Vanessa jolted and looked back in front of her, her friend stood at the counter waiting to have her items checked out. She grinned at the woman and grabbed her food items, all premade foods, and put them in the reusable bag Mateena always had.
âTeena! Youâre out of the apartment! Did your boss need you in the office today?â
Mateena nodded and grabbed her bag from Vanessa,
âYeah he did, took me like, five minutes, but he kept me there for a whole eight hour shift.â She rolled her green eyes at that, making Vanessa laugh.
âMaybe he knew you hadnât left your room in a week.â
There was a scoff, âit was three days, nessa.â
The bell chimed again and both women looked over to the open door. The old man limped in, looking more worn out than normal, he glanced towards the two women and stopped when he saw they were already starring at him. Mateena pulled her lips thin and awkwardly waved at him and moved away from the counter,
âIâll see you at home Nessa.â
The man stepped aside from the door for Mateena, and let the door slam shut behind her.
âHow are you today, sir?â
His attention turned back to Vanessa, his weepy blue eyes taking her in and he nodded as he moved towards the premade salads. He set the three items down on the counter and Vanessa rung them up and put them in a bag. He was starring at her, a frown in between his brows.
She held out the bag for him to take and blinked at him, âuh sir? Your bag?â
He hummed and took the bag but remained at the counter and looked at Vanessa, his eyes were overflowing with grief. He shook himself out and left the corner market. A little weirded out by the encounter Vanessa was more than happy it was at the end of her shift. Her replacement coworker showed up and after joking around with each other, Vanessa grabbed her bag and coat and left for the day.
~~~~~~
Mateena was nested in her corner chair with a blanket on her lap, she had snacks and her water bottle beside her. Her trusty laptop open to her favorite TV show. Vanessa grinned and slipped her shoes off and padded into the room and flopped down onto the couch, Mateena handed over a bag of chips and Vanessa gladly took it.
âHe was different today.â
There was a crunch and a hum from Mateena and Vanessa looked over towards her friend.
âThe regular, the old man, I tell you about him.â
Mateena furrowed her thick brows and looked over at Vanessa.
âI donât remember you telling me about an old man.â
Vanessa sighed, she loved Mateena and enjoyed her friendship, but her short term memory was a problem.
âThe old man that came in today while you were there?â
Mateenaâs eyes lit up in remembrance, âoh! Him! The one who wears the old leather jacket with the beat up collar!â
Vanessa nodded and grabbed the laptop from her lap and searched up a different show to watch, Mateena grumbled but snuggled down into her blanket.
âHe had a gash on his cheek.â
~~~~~~
Itâs a week and a half later when Vanessa sees the old man again, she was getting concerned for his safety. She was stocking the shelves of some energy drinks when the bell chimed, she wiped her hands on her jeans and stood up to greet the customer.
âHello! Welcome to [corner market]!â
She turned around he was there, grizzly and shoulders hunched down by grief. His hands stuffed in the pockets of his old leather jacket.
âHey Vanessa.â
She blinked in slight surprise, that being the first he spoke to her, âoh! Hi?â
He cracked a smile as he grabbed his salad and looked for his yogurt and she cleared her throat,
âIâm sorry, but the warehouse is out of stock.â
He looked over at her and then sighed and grabbed another kind of yogurt. Vanessa led him up to the counter and grabbed his items, her bracelets and dangling earrings clicking together. She passed him his bag with a smile and he thanked her and gave her his own smile.
âMy son always loved the sound your jewelry made.â
Vanessa stared at him in utter confusion, he chuckled and checked the date on the calendar.
âItâs almost time, Vanessa.â
âWait, what?â
With that he left, almost running into Mateena at the door, he stopped and grinned at her, inspiring Mateena to scowl and move away from him. The man laughed and walked outside, disappearing across the street. Vanessa stared after him as Mateena grabbed what they needed for dinner that night and brought it up to the counter.
âNessa?â Mateena tapped her fingers against Vanessaâs arm, Vanessa gasped and jerked her arm away.
âWhy the fuck are you always cold?!â
Mateena laughed and shoved the items towards Vanessa, âhurry up woman! Or else we wonât have dinner.â
Vanessa rolled her eyes and rung the items up, and Mateena put them in the bag.
âAre you okay Nessa? Really?â
Vanessa looked up at Mateena, brown eyes met green eyes.
âThe old man showed up.â
Mateena leaned away, her brows furrowing, the bag sagging against her leg.
âHuh? The old man? Wasnât he gone for like, a week?â
Vanessa nodded and went to tell her more, when a group of women entered, speaking over one another. Mateena smiled politely at them and squeezed Vanessaâs hand, her pale skin still cold.
~~~
Mateena was chopping the veggies when Vanessa got home. The meat was sizzling in the fry pan and music was softly playing in the background. Vanessa got changed into pjâs and set to helping prepare dinner.
âSo what happened today? You looked scared as fuck.â Mateena spoke up and Vanessa sighed as she flipped the chicken over in the pan.
âThe old man, heâŚhe just showed up outta nowhere, and then acted weird as hell.â
Mateena stopped what she was doing and pointed a look with an arched eyebrow at Vanessa, âyou mean more than normal?â
âTeena, thatâs rude.â
âNever said I was nice.â
Vanessa mashed her lips together and shut her eyes tight in frustration. There was a soft sigh.
âAlright alright, what did he do?â
Vanessa looked over at her with a soft smile and continued. âHe called me by my name.â
âThatâs not that weird Nessa, you have a name tag.â
âHeâs never called me by name, hell! Heâs never talked to me! Also! He looked at the date and went âitâs almost time Vanessa.ââ Vanessa lowered her to mimic that of the man and Mateena laughed at her impression and then processed her words.
âWait, he said what? Time for what?â
Vanessa stabbed a slender finger in the direction of her friend, âexactly! And then he left! And he grinned at you! Like he knew you! Like KNEW you knew you!â
Mateena stared off into the window of the adjacent living room, most likely remembering back on the earlier day. Her face screwed up and she shoved her golden framed glasses back up on her face.
âHuh, he did.â
Vanessa removed the chicken from the pan and Mateena added the veggies to the pan.
âMaybe heâs on drugs, Nessa.â
Vanessa side eyed her and Mateena shrugged.
After dinner was eaten and cleaned up after, Vanessa and Mateena settled down in Mateenaâs bed with her and a movie going on her small TV. Pacific Rim was a staple in their household, and so was debating over the science of the world.
And the men.
Mostly the men.
âItâs unfair that Chuck dies! Heâs so young!â
Mateena rolled her eyes and munched her popcorn, âthe manâs a dick, and has a punchable face, Nessa, also, thatâs the whole point of his role. His character was meant to die! Everything he did led up to his death!â
It was always the same argument.
Vanessa would usually end up falling asleep in Mateenaâs bed, the woman had mastered the art of making a nest out of anything, and you were sure to have the best nights sleep in it. If it werenât for Mateena kicking you in her sleep. Vanessa snuggled deeper into the pile of blankets and listened to the sound of her friend breathing, the room was still dark enough, with just a hint of dawn stretching its way across the ceiling. The world was slowly waking up, and Vanessa and Mateena both had the day off for once, and the plan was for the two young women to head to the beach for the day. To relax.
Vanessa finally clambered out of bed and patted Mateenaâs head, âwake up Teena, gotta get the day started.â
Mateena groaned and turned away in bed, throwing the covers over her head in answer.
(Time travel au, royalty au, seonghwa x reader, rivals to sisters, yunho x OC, Hongjoong x OC. Mingi, Yunho, San, and Wooyoung make an appearance. Honestly this is a mess. The fact that reader is from America is very important to the plot, also she is described as having light colored eyes, which again, is very important to the plot. Also MC does have a Korean nameâŚfor the plot.)
{TW-mentions of being physically sick, migraines, some violence and blood but not a lot. UmmâŚdeath? Yeah, death. TW for this chapter-swearing,}
There was a ringing in her ears, a sharp ring that blurred the edges of her vision. Veronica slowly turned in a circle, taking in the change in scenery, Young-Mi was still curled on the ground, mumbling a prayer in Korean. Nothing about this made sense, one second they were in an alleyway leading to Mingiâs apartment, the next second they wereâŚ.wherever this was. Veronica furrowed her brows and set her hands on her hips.
Where were they anyways?
And what the hell happened? What was in the box?
The box!
Veronica looked wildly around, shifting the long grass aside as she searched the ground for the cardboard box, âwhere is it? Where is it?!â
She could feel Young-Mi watch her as she bent over taking wild steps.
âWhat are you doing?â
âThe box! The box Young-Mi! It has to be the box! Where is it!?â
Young-Mi joined the search, they spanned out shifting the grass and wild flowers aside, finally after what felt like hours. Veronica heard a hoot from Young-Mi.
âI found it! Ronnie I found it!â
Veronica ran across the meadow to where Young-Mi stood with the empty box in her hands.
Empty?!
Veronica stood before her coworker scowling down at the box.
âWellâŚ.shit.â
She muttered out, and Young-Mi snorted and tossed the box back on the ground.
âThere goes that theory.â
Veronica bent down picking up the box and held it in her hands, âbutâŚ.there was something in it! It was heavy! This makes no sense!â
She scoffed and tossed the box back to the ground, setting her hands on her hips. Young-Mi was looking around with a slight frown on her lips.
âWhere are we Veronica?â
Veronica shrugged and made a nonsensical noise as she turned slowly in a slow circle, âI donât know Young-Mi.â
Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.
A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!
Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC
3...2..1...
âSoâŚâ John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield â warped, twisted, folded . âWhat now? Because we just got annihilated.â
âNo shit,â Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. âI say every man for themselves. Bobâs gone full horror movie. This was fun â goodbye.â
She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished â until Yelenaâs voice cut through like a knife.
âWe canât leave him.â
Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. âLeave who? That wasnât Bob back there. That was... I donât even know what that was.â She turned, folding her arms. âDefinitely not the guy who saved us.â
âNo,â Yelena said, voice tight. âBut heâs still in there. Somewhere.â
âUnless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,â Ava snapped, âwhat exactly is your plan?â
âI donât have one yet,â Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. âBut weâre not leaving him. Not like this.â
Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. âIf we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.â He waved a hand vaguely. âLet me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.â
âWeâre not finishing him,â Yelena snapped, rounding on him. âWeâre going to help him.â
âOh sure,â Ava muttered. âWeâll just hug the powers out of him.â
âHe ripped Buckyâs arm off like it was a dollâs toy,â Alexei added. âWe go in like this, we die.â
âItâs fine,â Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. âHappens more than you think.â
John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. âHe folded it. I meanâfolded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?â
Ava raised a brow. âSo⌠not vibranium?â
âItâs vibranium-adjacent,â John muttered defensively.
Yelena didnât even look at him. âMaybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldnât look like a gas station burrito.â
Alexei lit up. âI could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.â
John groaned. âFocus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"
âYeah,â Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. âHeâs not shy or nerdy anymore.â
That shut them all up.
Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.
He looked at them â bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip â and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.
âThereâs a place we can crash. Itâs not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.â
Yelena eyed him suspiciously. âWhere?â
He didnât answer. Just turned and started walking.
The group hesitated, then followed â slow and shuffling.
A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at Johnâs mangled shield. âSo⌠canât you, like, unfold it? Youâve got super strength, right?â
âI have super strength,â John snapped. âNot unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. Itâs toast.â
Alexei squinted. âIs that, like⌠covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?â
John gave him a deadpan look. âDo I look like I kept a receipt?â
âAnd youââ he pointed at Ava ââGhost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?â
Ava raised her brow. âI walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.â
âShe literally did,â Yelena added, smirking.
âI-oh. Right. I forgot,â John said, flustered. âIn my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.â
âHow convenient,â Ava said flatly.
Their argument began escalating again â nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos â until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.
âEnough.â His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. âWeâre almost there. If you keep yelling, sheâs not going to open the door.â
They all stopped short.
âShe?â they echoed, suspicious in unison.
âYes. She. No more questions.â He resumed walking, jaw clenched.
Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. âIs this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?â
âIâm not answering that.â
Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. âIs she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?â
John nodded sagely. âI bet sheâs way out of his league.â
âMaybe she's his girlfriend,â Yelena offered with a shrug.
âHighly doubtful,â Ava muttered.
âSheâs not myââ Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. âJust... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.â
They finally quieted.
The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings â not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.
Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.
He hated this.
He hated that heâd brought them here â hated the pit growing in his stomach â hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadnât seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.
Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.
âDoes she cook?â
âI hope she has a comfy couch.â
âIf she has tea, Iâll marry her.â
Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.
He almost turned around â almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.
But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.
Too late.
The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.
Your eyes landed on Bucky first â bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.
âBucky,â you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.
Then it was gone.
âWhat do you want?â you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.
Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. âI know Iâm the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.â
âI donât play superhero anymore,â you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.
âI know,â he said quickly, âIâm not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.â He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.
âPlease, doll,â he added, quieter now. âI wouldnât have come if I had any other option.â
The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting â wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.
Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.
âCome in before the neighbors start watching.â
The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered â warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.
Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.
Then something soft brushed against his leg.
He glanced down and froze.
A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shiftedâstunned, tender.
âHey, Alpine,â he murmured, crouching carefully. âHi, pretty girl. I missed you.â
She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.
You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you â your life was stable, his wasnât. It had made sense. But it hadnât been easy.
Behind Bucky, the team just⌠stared.
âAre you seeing this?â John whispered to Yelena.
Ava elbowed him without even looking. âShut up.â
It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.
The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the âpunch-meâ face.
They all gave awkward waves. Alexeiâs was the most enthusiastic.
You nodded politely. âIâm Y/N. Nice to meet you.â
They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.
âCan I get you anything to drink?â you offered.
âWater, please,â Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.
John raised his hand like a kid in class. âSame.â
Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. âDo you have tea?â
âSure. What kind?â
âAnything.â
You turned to Alexei.
âDo you have anything⌠stronger?â he asked, hopeful.
âHow strong?â
âVery strong.â
You smirked. âGot it.â Then disappeared into the kitchen.
The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky â still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.
âSoâŚâ Yelena drawled. âYou and her?â
Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.
âDonât,â he muttered.
John leaned closer to Ava. âThereâs definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?â
âShe also looked like she wanted to slam the door,â Ava replied.
âShe likes him,â Alexei declared confidently. âThere is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.â
Bucky glared at all of them. âIf you value your limbs, youâll stop talking.â
Yelena held up both hands, grinning. âOkay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.â
A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.
âBucky, seriously?â you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. âYou couldâve told them to sit down.â
He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. âDidnât want to break anything.â
You waved the team toward the couches. âPlease. Make yourselves at home.â
John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.
âYou, my dear, are an angel,â he declared reverently. âIs this whiskey?â
âOnly the best for unexpected guests,â you replied dryly. âI was meal-prepping earlier,â you added, glancing over your shoulder. âIâve got a big pot of soup if anyoneâs hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.â
There was a beat of stunned silence.
âSoup would be heavenly,â John mumbled, eyes already closing.
You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.
Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.
You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didnât have to look to know who it was.
Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadnât quite decided if he should be there.
âDo you need anything?â you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.
He offered a faint smile â the kind that didn't reach his eyes. âThanks for letting us crash here.â
You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. âYou all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.â
âLook, Y/Nââ
âBucky, donât,â you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. âYou donât have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. Itâs fine. Really.â
He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. âWeâll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.â
âThat's fine.â You turned back to fill the bowls. âAlpine misses you.â
His voice was softer this time. âI miss her too.â
You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.
âLunch.â
A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived â but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.
Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.
Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.
John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.
âAnd thenâoh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakinâ taco,â Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. âJust snapped it like paper!â
Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.
John looked personally offended. âItâs not that funny.â
âAnd thenâwait for itâhe ripped off Buckyâs arm.â Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.
Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.
Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression â real concern flickering beneath practiced calm â his demeanor softened.
âItâs fine,â he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. âReattached it without a problem.â
âAre you sure?â You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. âDid you check everything out?â
âIâm okay,â he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you werenât convinced. So he did something he hadnât done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. âI promise. Iâm okay.â
His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them â something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.
Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain shouldâve been.
It wasnât there.
His stomach dropped.
Buckyâs fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.
No. No no no.
He never took it off. Ever.
His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.
âBucky?â you asked, watching him unravel. âWhatâs wrong?â
âThe chain,â he said hoarsely. âMy chain. Itâs gone.â
Panic etched across his face.
At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there â something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.
When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.
It was a chain.
And dangling from it â a simple gold wedding band.
âHoly fââ she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. âHoly shit.â
Everyone turned to look.
Buckyâs head snapped up.
She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. âThis is yours.â
He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.
Relief washed over his features â raw and unfiltered.
Your eyes locked with his.
âYou still have it,â you said, voice barely above a whisper.
Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.
âIâIâŚâ Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.
Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. âWaitâyouâre married?! Congratulations!â he bellowed, raising his glass. âThatâs adorable.â
Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.
The silence that followed was very loud.
He looked at you again â the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once â then abruptly stood.
He didnât say anything.
He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.
âDid IâŚâ Alexei frowned. âDid I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?â
Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. âWeâre gonna need way more soup.â
âUh⌠weâre not married anymore,â you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.
Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didnât look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room â your feet already knowing where to go.
Of course you knew where he was.
You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadnât changed â not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.
You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.
âYou kept everything the same,â Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didnât even need to turn around to know it was you.
You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.
âOf course,â you replied, your voice gentle. âIt was our home. It felt wrong moving your thingsâŚchanging your designs.â
Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy â just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.
âTheyâre a good bunch,â you murmured. âVery entertaining, too.â
Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. âYeah. I know.â
Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck â barely visible, but there.
âYou kept the ring,â you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.
He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. âYeah. I did.â
âWhy?â
He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. âIt helps me. Grounds me. I didnât have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring⌠it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldnât get rid of it after the divorce. I didnât want to.â
You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. âSo youâve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?â
He nodded again, this time more slowly. âEvery damn day,â he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. âI couldnât take it off. Itâs stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.â
You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.
âYouâre not a fool,â you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. âI couldnât get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."
His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.
âI really wanted our marriage to work,â he said, the words coming out like a confession.
âI know you did.â
âIâm really sorry, Y/N.â
âI know you are.â You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same â steady, calloused, familiar. âYou needed to find yourself, Buck. I shouldâve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then⌠you got into politics. Youâre actually a congressman now.â
He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.
âI couldnât keep up,â you continued. âAnd that was on me.â
âNo. It was on me,â he said firmly. âI didnât prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out â thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasnât a good husband.â
You looked at him â really looked at him â and shook your head.
âBucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.â
You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.
His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.
âIâm also sorry,â you whispered.
Buckyâs laugh was soft and bitter. âWhat the hell happened to us?â
âI donât really know,â you said, your voice muffled against his chest. âBut I missed you.â
âI missed you more.â He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.
And for a while, it was enough.
Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.
And thenâ
CRASH.
You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.
âDid you seriously just break their bowl?â Johnâs voice rang out, horrified.
âWell, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!â Ava snapped back.
You giggled, forehead still resting against Buckyâs shoulder. âWe should go before they break more of our dishes.â
He smiled â a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. âA few more minutes. Theyâll survive.â
You didnât argue.
And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.
********
âThis is the cutest thing Iâve ever seen.â
âShut up, Alexei. Youâre being too loud.â
âWe should wake him up, though. We havenât even talked strategy.â
âWe canât. Look at them.â
âThey look like a cute, happy family.â
âWe should take a picture.â
The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.
Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap â Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.
For a second, he didnât move.
This was what peace felt like. This was home.
âYou woke him up,â Yelena hissed. âSeriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!â
Bucky looked at them â bleary-eyed and still half-asleep â and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.
âIâm going to give you ten seconds to leave,â he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. âAnd if you donât⌠Bob will be the least of your problems.â
The team scrambled out of the room like theyâd seen a ghost.
He sighed, then looked back down at you â just as you stirred.
You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if youâd pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.
But you didnât.
You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.
âIs everything okay?â you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.
âEverythingâs just perfect,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.
happy autism awareness day to all the girls who had â friendsâ growing up who were actually bullying them . to the girls who always sat alone in the grass and wondered why nobody wanted to talk . to the girls who spoke to animals like they were listening . to the girls who created a little world in their room . to the girls who always felt ashamed for how deeply they love things and how passionately they enjoyed media . to the girls who covered their ears when they were overwhelmed by everything . to the girls who carrying a special thing around to feel safe . to the girls who never understood what they did wrong to feel so lonely . to the girls who were diagnosed later in life because they werenât little boys who liked trains. you are so special and beautiful and youâre not worse for it, you love deeply and that is so wonderful please never try to push that down . I LOVE YOU !!!!!
Summary: settling into your new role, you and Joaquin slowly start to get to know each other.
Warnings: a little violence, a little fluff and feels
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: I donât know if Iâm happy with this and itâs late so may be some mistakes but itâs here anyway. Also Iâm publishing this on my phone so wonât be adding the tag list until later in an edit on my laptop, sorry for any inconvenience.
Two weeks and five missions later, you and Joaquin were working better together than salt and pepper. It may have taken you both a moment or two to start with on those first couple of missions to find your rhythm, but once you did, you were totally unstoppable. And although you were only at a computer in your tiny apartment, both the audio and visual feeds from the FEARN drone and his suit, made you feel like you were right there in the action.
Joaquin would tell you to do a lap to survey the area and you would hold your breath to stay as quiet as possible, even though no one was ever able to hear your voice other than Joaquin. Bullets would come flying his way and you would find yourself shaking with adrenaline as he ran for cover. You thought after the first couple of missions it would get easier watching him fight, but somehow (when you werenât fearing for his life) you found yourself getting all flustered whenever you watched him flip one of the bad guys over his shoulder, or heâd do a spinning kick and knocking them on their asses. He was impressive and he always left you breathless.
âWooooo!â Joaquin crowed as he pumped his fists in the air in triumph. âDid anybody see that!?â he cried out. You watched his POV through the second monitor as he looked around him for anybody, the man desperate for an audience, but as always, it was just you.
âI did. Iâm always watching,â you said through the comm link, but somehow, the way his head hung low, told you that he didnât think your presence counted.
âThanks Fearn,â he muttered to himself as he began to trek back up the dirt path at the back of the property.
It wasnât the first sign heâd given you that he didnât think you were a real person but you still werenât completely sure he wasnât either, especially on the times you flirted and held longer conversation with one another.
âWould you like me to send the footage to Cap?â you asked him in a teasing tone, hoping the more human like teasing interaction would reassure him of your actual presence in the world.
He froze. âNo, no, no.â he quickly said and you could feel his cheeks growing pink even though you couldnât see them.
âBut you said you wanted someone else to see.â you replied.
âYeah, I did, but like in the moment,â he replied. âI feel like sending him a video of me kicking some dudeâs ass is bragging and he just wonât think Iâm cool.â
âI think youâre cool.â you replied through the com link.
âThanks Fearn,â he replied. But once again his voice sounded a little dejected.
âThatâs alright, Joaquin.â
You watched as he began to recheck over some of the modifications on the arms of the suit as he walked, you flying the drone at his shoulder as he made his way back towards the warehouse where Cap and a crew of military personnel were waiting for his return.
âUmm, Fearn, you can go to sleep now.â Joaquin instructed, his voice still a little dejected as he approached them.
You didnât want to shut down. He was clearly going through something and you wanted to make sure he was okay, but it was your job to follow orders so you reluctantly docked the drone on the back of his suit and shut it down, ready for the next time he had use of you.
You waited a few more minutes just to be sure the mission was officially over and you werenât needed, before you finally logged off, knowing youâd be able to take a longer break for a while. You looked at the time. 3:30pm. Time for a coffee and sweet treat reward. But as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys and tote bag and headed out the door to pop to your local coffee shop, your mind was still focused on Joaquin.
It gnawed at the pit of your stomach all the way to the coffee shop and back. You tried to push it to one side and enjoy the slice of banana bread you had bought as your treat whilst watching a couple episodes of your favourite tv show of the moment, but still your mind kept wandering to him. You just wanted to know he was okay. But other than Fearn you had no idea how else to contact him.
âHey, Fearn?â his voice suddenly called out into your appartment and you raced over to your computer to activate the drone. When the video feed kicked in, you realised he wasnât in his suit. In fact he didnât look to be on a mission at all. Was this⌠where he lived?
âFearn?â he said again and although it wasnât your real name, the way he said it made you ache for him.
âYes, Joaquin? How can I be of assistance to you?â
There was a pause as he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he thought.
âYou said you could send the footage of me fighting earlier to Cap. Umm, do you keep all the footage from my missions?â he asked.
âYes. All your missions are recorded for training and security purposes.â you replied.
âCan you access them and play them back for me?â he asked nervously, his hands rubbing together to alleviate some of his tension, as he struggled to keep eye contact with the drone.
You woke up your second monitor and began pulling up files and video footage ready. âWhich mission would you like to see first?â you asked.
âUmmm,â he mumbled as he thought for a moment. âCan you bring up the footage from that rooftop fight last week?â he asked.
You began flicking through the folders on your screen finding the mission he was asking about and opening up the video footage. âIs there a particular moment you would like to revisit?â you asked.
He rubbed his hand bashfully through his hair before scratching at the back of his neck. âCan I rewatch the bit where I swooped in and kicked the guy off the top of the roof?â he asked.
You smiled, remembering the moment well. You fast forwarded through the video footage on your screen until you found it. You then manoeuvred FEARN so you could project the video onto his blank wall behind his bed.
âWow,â he sighed as you activated the footage, the moment playing out for him again, just how he had seen it the first time from his suits point of view.
You rewatched with him as he swooped in and knocked the guy over the edge of the building as he landed seamlessly on the edge looking down. You silently counted down with the version of him in the recorded memory as the guy inched closer and closer to the ground, his screams of panic calling back up to him. When he got to one he stepped off the roof himself and began to free fall after him, the jet on the back of his suit kicking in to propel him forward faster so he could catch up with the man.
He caught him just before he was able to hit the concrete, the man literally pissing himself as Joaquin shot him back up again to the top of the roof and dumping him down. The man rolled across the gravel at the top as he landed.
âJoaquin?â You found yourself asking. He turned his attention back towards the drone to let you know he was listening. âWhat does it feel like?â you asked him. âTo fly like that?â
You turned the sound down on the video, the rest of the fight just becoming background noise as Joaquin answered you. âLike the most thrilling adrenaline rush youâll ever get.â he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he thought on it. âItâs like getting to go on a rollercoaster every day, except thereâs no track to follow and you get to make up the ride as you go along.â He paused a second before he continued. âActually FEARN, can I tell you a secret.â he said, leaning into the drone as if it were a real person, his voice lowering conspiratorially. âItâs actually ruined rollercoasters for me.â You almost laughed at that. âI tried to go to six flags with my cousin a few months ago, but every ride I went on just felt boring. There just wasnât any thrill in it anymore.â
âThat sounds sad,â you replied, your heart breaking for him.
âYeah, I guess it is.â he replied, his attention returning to the video on the wall. âCan you replay the footage from today?â he eventually asked?
âOf course,â you replied and thatâs how you remained for the rest of the afternoon, rewatching his video footage and occasionally picking his brain until you were both ready to call it a day.
Summary: after a mission gone wrong and a two week long endured coma, you're left with a bit of memory loss.
Word Count: 2.2k+
Warnings: grief, mcu endgame spoilers, injury, hospital, amnesia, hurt/comfort, reader insert, Y/N, made up birthdate and mother
A/N: As promised yesterday. Warning this is some major emotional damage, but was so fun to write. This takes place further down the storyline of the Joaquin x Stark!reader stuff I've done before, but you don't have to have read them to understand this. Also I've tried to tag who I can but if I have forgotten anyone interested in my Joaquin stuff I'm sorry and hope this finds you all the same. Anyway, enjoy.
You had no idea how long you had been asleep. Couldnât even remember taking yourself to bed. No doubt you had fallen asleep in front of the TV and your Dad had carried you up and tucked you in like he used to when you were five. But the more you stirred, the more you realised this bed felt too firm to be your own. And your body was propped at an awkward angle, almost like youâd fallen asleep in one of your Dadâs recliners.
But there was also too much background noise for you to be at home. The droning cacophony of voices sounding too echoey for you to have fallen asleep in the penthouse. And then there was the beeping. Steady and rhythmic like a heartbeat. As you forced your dry eyes to open and assess the situation fully you realised it wasnât just any heart beat, it was yours. Pressure over your index finger signifying the monitor there.Â
Okay, so you were in a hospital room, you realised, more features of the room coming into focus as you looked around the private room you were in. No doubt organised and paid for by your Dad. But how did you get here? What had happened to land you here? And who was the random guy at the side of your bed. You looked him over. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. His arms looked fairly muscular beneath his jacket and you figured he was just one of Happyâs lackeys here to watch over you and keep you safe.
He wasnât doing a very good job though seeing as he currently had one hand propped to his head and he was dozing. As you looked closer at his bronzed skin, you noticed he had heavy circles under his eyes, informing you he hadnât been sleeping much lately. Maybe he had been here all night and was just waiting for Happy or someone to come relieve him for the day shift.
âAh sheâs finally awake,â a cheerful voice said from the doorway. You looked up to find a youthful blonde nurse standing with a clipboard in hand. At the sound of her voice, the man in the chair at your bedside shook himself awake, his fingers rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He looked to where the voice came from in the doorway before seeming to fully realise what she had said as she entered the room and began to move around the other side of the bed towards you.
âIâm just going to check over some of your vitals to give to the Doctor and heâll be in in a moment to talk you through everything. Okay?â
âOkay,â you confirmed.
Although your attention was focused on the nurse, you couldnât help but notice the way the man at your side sat forward on his chair and reached out for you. âWhat time is it?â you turned and asked him, his hand reaching for his phone to check the time. âWhat time are my Dad or Happy gonna get here?â you asked him further and his face fell, his brow furrowing as you question sunk in and you realised, maybe this guy wasnât with your Dad or Happy at all.
He looked up to the nurse concerned and when you turned to look at her too to put a voice to whatever silent information was in the room you couldnât decipher, you noticed the similar face of confusion to the companion at your side.
Something wasnât right, but you didnât know what it was.
âY/N?â the man at your side said hesitantly.
âYes,â you said, wondering why he would say your name as if you wouldnât recognise it or know who you are.
âMr Torres, itâs alright,â the nurse said trying to settle him as she stepped forward to you, âMiss Stark Iâm going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability. Okay?â she asked in her kindly manner, her tone intentionally curated to try and put you at ease.
âOkay,â you confirmed, if not slightly hesitant.
âCan you tell me your full name?â
âY/N Y/M/N Stark.â
âPerfect. And your date of birth?â
â07/07/1999â your replied and the nurse seemed to be satisfied with that.
âCan you tell me the names of your parents?â
âMeridith Holtzman and Tony Stark.â
âOkay, perfect.â
âAnd where do you currently live?â
âStark Tower, Manhattan, New York.â The nurse looked at her notes and frowned. âLook, is my dad gonna be here soon or?â Your two companions in the room froze. âWhat? What is it?â
âMiss Stark, what year do you think it?â the nurse asked.
âItâs 2016. I literally just had my 17th birthday last week.â
The nurse and your male companion in the room looked at each other with concern. He quickly stood, his teeth nibbling at the skin around his thumb as he began to pace with worry.Â
âMr Torres, donât worry. This can be quite common in coma patients. Iâll go get the doctor, heâll be able to do a better assessment of her brain scan and give you a better analysis of whatâs happening.â the nurse began to explain to him.
âAnd what do I do in the meantime. I mean, she clearly has no idea who I am.â
âWell, maybe reintroduce yourself. You never know, maybe it will jog her memory.âÂ
âOkay,â he said dejectedly. âUh, thank you,â he quickly added as she began to leave.
âIâll go get the doctor,â she reaffirmed to give him hope.
âSoooo, whenâs my Dad getting here?â you asked him when he came back to your bedside.
âUmmm,â he said hesitantly before he let out a deep sigh. âUhh, I really donât know how to answer that,â he confided as he hung his head, struggling to keep eye contact with you.
âWell can you call Happy and find out?âÂ
âY/N,â he implored, his hand reaching out for yours, his fingers brushing across the back of your hand making you tense up beneath his touch, âdo you not recognise me at all?â he asked.
âShould I?â you asked hesitantly, slowly pulling your hand from this strange guy's touch, but his fingers got caught on a piece of jewelry on your finger. You looked down at the diamond ring confused. âWhose ring is this? Where did it come from?â you asked. Your words seemed to stab him like knives. âIâm sorry, who are you? I mean, I thought you worked for Happy, but? Look where is my Dad. I just want to see my Dad.â you said adamantly, slowly becoming distressed.
âY/N,â he sighed again sympathetically, âyour Dad died 4 years ago.â
âWhat? What are you talking about?â
âIn the battle against Thanos.â
âWho now?â
âUh, fuck!â he grunted under his breath as his hand rubbed frustratedly over his face.
âLook, I donât have a clue whatâs going on?â you said, growing equally frustrated. âI donât even know how I got here.â
âWe were on a mission together. There was an accident. I was distracted, Iâm sorry,â he stressed. âGod, this is all my fault,â he muttered to himself. âYou sustained a head injury.â he continued to explain to you, trying to make himself calm down so as not to stress you out. âThe doctors have had you in a coma for the last two weeks waiting for the swelling on your brain to go down.â
You paused and looked at him confused as you waited for the information to sink in. âSo this isnât 2016.â you said to him.
âNo,â he confirmed. âItâs 2027.â
You looked at the sorrow in his eyes. The emotional pain on his face. You clearly meant a lot to him and you not currently recognising him was killing him. You looked again at the ring on your finger. âYou gave me this?â you half asked, half stated.
âYes,â he said quietly and nodded. You were both quiet for a moment as you took that in. âOh wait,â he said, suddenly getting an idea and reaching for his phone. You watched as he typed in your birthday as his passcode. There was a picture of you and him and a dog as his background. Your hair was dyed in the picture, the ends purple and orange and when you looked down, you spotted the faded remnants of the color that hadn't been topped up in weeks. You lifted the ends up to inspect them closer.
âHere,â he said, leaning over the bed with the phone a picture up on the display. âThis is us just after I proposed,â he said, a picture of both of your smiling faces on the screen with your ring clad hand being held up to the camera. He swiped and there was a picture of you both on the beach. âThis is us in Hawaii last year,â he said. âThis is us and your sister Morgan.â he said, swiping again.
âI have a sister?â you frowned in disbelief. The young girl looked no older than 7 in the picture but her features told you enough to know she was also your Fatherâs daughter.Â
âYeah. And this is Dougie.â he said, scrolling to a picture of you and the dog you saw as his phone background. âYou adopted him last year when you were in the middle of your therapyâ he informed you.Â
Although it was information and sensory overload you couldnât deny the photo evidence before you and let him go on as he continued to take you down memory lane. âAnd this is us with Cap in Cambodia a couple months ago.â
âIâm sorry who?â you frowned, recognising the suit and its colors, but not the man wearing them.Â
âCaptain America. You know, Sam.â he said, as if that should mean something to you.
âWait, isnât he one of the guys my Dad fought in Germany. I thought he was the Falcon. What happened to Uncle Steve?â you asked.
âUmmm, thatâs a little more complicated to explain. He went back in time and became an old man and then when he came back he handed over the shield to Sam before he died and-â
âWait-â you cut him off, âyouâre telling me both my Dad and Steve are dead?â There was a pause between you as his guilt once again took over. âCaptain America and Iron Man⌠are dead.â you said again, looking for confirmation.
âWell, Captain America isnât dead. But Steve Rogers is, yes.â
âOkayâŚâ you said, growing quiet as you let that sink in as he began to flick through photos again. After heâd swiped through another 3 and talked you through them, you finally said, âWho else is dead?â He froze. His silence was enough to confirm your Dad and Steve werenât the only ones to die when fighting this Thanos person he had name dropped.
âLook who else died, Joaquin,â you blurted out and he looked at you in surprise.
âYou just said my name,â he beamed.
âI did,â you confirmed, not completely sure where you had pulled the name from.
âI think this is working,â he said. âOkay, this is a picture of you at your Dad and Pepperâs wedding,â he continued to flick through, some older pictures of you saved onto his phone too. âAnd this is you and Sam playing with Morgan. You opening the Heroes stadium in memory of your Dad, Steve and Natasha.â
âNatasha.â you said, the name falling from your lips as an image of the redhead flashed before your mind; her teaching you how to fight in the gym behind your Dadâs back. Tears began to fill your eyes as you slowly remembered the moment Clint came back without Nat, the memory hazy at the edges, but the strong emotional pain, fixing you to the most important part of the memory. âNatasha died.â you confirmed. She had been like your older sister. Sheâd taught you so many things over the years. Not just how to fight, but how to talk to boys and do your make up and- Your thoughts became a blur as all those memories crashed into you and as you continued to follow the thread, more and more started to come back to you.
âJoaquin?â you said, your voice broken and wobbly.
âYeah, Iâm here baby, Iâm here.â he reassured as he climbed fully onto the small hospital bed and wrapped you up into his eyes and your grief hit you a fresh all over again. But as your grief washed over you like a tidal wave, other memories began to come to mind. Moments of grief. Joaquin sat with you on the floor as you cried. Him driving you to your therapy sessions. Him taking you to the shelter to pick out Dougie. He was your rock. The one who had been by your side and helped you heal.
âIâm sorry.â you said, as you sobbed into his shoulder. âI forgot you, Iâm sorry.â
âItâs okay,â he said, the hint of a smile to his voice, âyouâre back now. Youâre here now. Everything will be okay.â
âJoaquin, I love you,â you mumbled against his chest and he chuffed with relief.
You know about sleep talking, but do you know about sleep yelling? I was taking a nap today, and was telling this guy to fuck off in my dream. Turns out I was screaming fuck off in real time. Also I attempted stabbing in my dream.
Summary: Joaquin and Sam take a trip to the Stark cabin to get something fixed on Joaquinâs suit.
Warnings: fluff, grief, angst, banter
Word Count: 2.6k+
A/N: Okay so I this is based on an ask that came through my inbox. I did make a couple adjustments, but over all the bones are the same. Hope people enjoy!
Joaquin always felt awkward when Sam dragged him out to the Stark cabin for a fix on their suits. Although he had never met Tony Stark himself, the Avenger was someone everyone knew and his loss was still felt all around the world. But the Stark cabin always felt like the nucleus of that grief. More importantly, the shed out back.
"I'm gonna head in and say hey to Pepper," Sam said as they made their way side by side down the path through the woods that lead to the old hunting cabin that had been turned into the Stark's main home during the blip.
"Okay, well I'm gonna- head-" Joaquin's voice trailed off as Sam made a left and began to head up the stairs to the front door, suddenly leaving him on his own, "to- the- uh shed I guess," he muttered to himself much quieter, looking between the cabin and the shed where he knew you would be.
He hesitated at the door to the shed. He knew you'd be in there, you practically lived in there since your Dad died. He knew it was bad for you to isolate yourself the way you did, throwing yourself into continuing his work as a way to manage your grief, but he also felt like he was invading your sanctuary whenever he stopped by.
"YO, FEATHERS! YOU GONNA STAND OUT THERE ALL DAY OR YOU GONNA COME IN!" Your voice called out to him and he took that as his queue to enter.
"How did you know I was out there?" he asked as he strutted in, his eyes scanning the space as he sought you out amongst the converted lab you and your Dad had built together during the blip. The two of you hadn't been too close before then, your Mom wanting you to keep your distance from the man she had accidentally conceived a child with during a drunken one night stand in her 20s, but when she became a victim of Thanos and the blip, you had no choice but to seek refuge with him.
"Cameras," you said, lifting a tablet in the air that showed a video feed of the front door and Joaquin used it as a marker to find you amongst the mess.
"You know I don't have feathers right?" he said as he approached the bench where you were huddled over a piece of tech, a soldering iron in hand as you fused different components together.
"And you two could literally go to anyone else at Stark Industries to fix your suites and yet, here you are." you said sarcastically as you finally met his eyes.
Joaquin took one look at the dark circles under your eyes and his heart ached. He hated to see you like this. He had developed a crush on you the first time he had met you. It was a couple years ago now. He had been brought in with Sam and Bucky for the debrief with Colonel Rhodes after the incident with the flag smashers. You had stopped by to have dinner with your Father's old best friend, turning up in a red floral sun dress and denim jacket and he had instantly fallen in love- not that he'd ever had the balls to tell you.
âYou havenât been sleeping.â Joaquin stated, his voice soft, but you hated the tone of pity that accompanied it. It was coming up to the anniversary of your Father's death and your dreams had been plagued with flash backs to the battle where you had watched him lose his life.
âWell thanks Captain Obvious.â you snapped at him resentfully.
As long as he'd known you, Joaquin knew your usual jaded demeanour and hostility was due to your inability to deal with your grief over your Dad, but he also knew this extra spiciness to your tone was due to the aforementioned lack of sleep. âYou know I was never actually a captain.â he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't help.
âOkay, then Lieutenant Obvious. Better?â You sassed as you forcefully turned him around to get to the access panel on the back of the wings.
âRemind me again why youâve got to do this with the suit on me.â
âItâs so you can fly away the second Iâm done and stop- annoying-me,â you grunted as you popped the panel. âUuuhgg, this is a mess. Who the hell has been fiddling with this thing?â you asked, taking in the hazard of wires and switch boards inside.
âThe US governement.â Joaquin laughed.
âThat sounds about right," you gritted as you took your soldering iron from before and began adjusting and readjusting wires.
As you worked, Joaquin took a moment to look around the room again. There were empty cups, mugs and plates discarded in different places as you had refuelled on the go. The sofa in the corner had a blanket haphazardly draped across it, implying that when you had been sleeping, it had been in here and not in the house with Pepper and your half sister Morgan. It broke his heart.
"Y/N-" he said your name tentatively, wanting to broach the subject and help, but also not wanting you to completely shut down and shut him out and hate him forever.
"Don't." you said, reading his mind without having to look directly at his face as you focused on your current job. "There," you sighed, "try that." you said as you closed the panel again and sat back.
Joaquin turned around, shifting in his suit, his arms lifting as he prepared to let loose the wings at his back. "NOT IN HERE MORON!" you quickly said, fear rippling through you at the thought of the nano tech wings unfolding at his back and smashing into the machinery set up around the two of you. "Take it outside."
"Uh, yeah. Right." Joaquin stuttered nervously as he realised his mistake.
You reluctantly followed him outside for his test flight and was met with the sight of your younger sister running down the steps of the cabin and over to you both. "JOAQUIN!" the young girl beamed, taking him in. She for sure had a little school girl crush on him. And to be fair, you couldnât blame her, he was good looking, you just werenât interested in anything right now.
"Hey Kiddo!" he said, embracing her as she ran into his arms to greet him with a hug. "Your sister's just fixed my wing up. Wanna see?"
"Yeah! Of course!" she beamed and the way she smiled made you see all of the same awe and wonder in her eyes as your Father used to have. The look sent a new wave of grief to hit you and you had to turn away from her for a moment to compose yourself. It was so quick you had hoped neither of them had noticed, but when you looked back to Joaquin, it was clear to you he had.
"Well, go on then. Get this over with so I can go back to work." you said, folding your arms across your chest as you encouraged him to let his wings free.
His eyes seemed to linger on you for a moment, trying to find a way to penetrate your armour before he finally conceded. There was a click and a rippling schwing of metal as his wings unfurled seamlessly at his back, shorter at first, but then he pressed another button in the gloves of his suit and the nanobots shifted and extended the wings down to make them larger.
"Oooooooh," Morgan cooed in wonder as she took them in.
"Come on then feathers, you gonna fly or what?" you encouraged him. He sighed in your direction, but ultimately activated his helmet and thrusters and dramatically blasted off from the floor at such a force you and Morgan had to steady yourselves as you were hit with a blast of air.
You both watched from the ground as he began to do a sweep around the property, Morgan running down to the lakes edge to watch him closer as he dipped down to run a finger through the water as he glided above it. You stood there for another minute, watching to make sure there weren't any more problems, but when he started to show off, doing barrel rolls through the air to impress Morgan, you knew it was your cue to return to your work.
âYou know, you should be a lot nicer to him,â Pepperâs voice startled you. You hadnât noticed her when you first came in, but at the sound of her voice, you quickly found her collecting up some of your plates and mugs, ready to take them back into the cabin.
You didnât respond to her, your body turning back to your work as you pretended like she wasnât there. You didnât want the lecture right now. Although she had married your Father and had technically become your step mom, not to mention she was your half sisterâs actual mother, Pepper had always felt more like an Aunt to you. She had all the same maternal energy and instincts towards you, but she was more approachable like a friend.
âYou know, I invited them to stay for dinner,â she said as she came up beside you. âWeâre having cheeseburgers, in honour of your Dad.â she continued, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but you werenât biting. âYou know,â she said, after another pause, deciding to change tac, âI think he likes you.â
âWhat makes you say that?â you said instinctively and you instantly kicked yourself for responding, but you could feel the swell of pride coming off Pepper as she realised she had gotten you to break.
âBecause Iâve seen the way he looks at you,â she said wistfully, her eyes looking out the open doorway towards the sounds of her daughterâs giggles as she played with Joaquin. âAnd no matter how mean you are to him, he keeps coming back.â
âIs that what happened with you and my Dad?â You asked, fishing for information about the origins of their relationship.
âNot quite. Me and your Dad were⌠a little more complicated. Your dad was always a lone wolf, but he,â she said, her gaze moving to the man outside again, âheâs more of a golden retriever. He may be a bit goofy and over enthusiastic at times,â she said, before turning her attention back to you, âbut heâs loyal. And he knows how to have fun,â she stressed as she nudged your shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you needed to take a break from your Fatherâs legacy and just learn to let loose again.
You went back to giving her the silent treatment as she shifted the cups and plates in her hands again and went to leave. But as she reached the door, the small voice in the back of your head (you often liked to think was actually your Father living rent free in your brain), told you she was right.
âPepper!â you called out to stop her. âThanks.â you said, giving her the first smile that had graced your face all week. She didnât say anything more back, just gave you an equally fond smile of acknowledgment. After all, Pepper Potts knew she had already said everything she needed to, to finally get you back out of the shed.
Nearly two hours later, you finally made your way up to the cabin for dinner. The sound of laughter and the sizzling sounds and smell of the burgers was almost overwhelming after spending a week alone out in the shed, but you quickly shook it off. Both Sam and Joaquin turned their heads at the sound of the door, but quickly became distracted again by your sister. She was stood in the middle of the living room giving a rather animated account to them of an incident that had happened to her at school. You couldnât help but smile at the way she captivated them as you snuck through the house to the kitchen.
âCan I help with anything?â you quietly asked.
Pepper turned and gave you a smile. You watched as her eyes scanned you. You had changed since she had left you and even taken the time to run a brush through your hair. You could tell there was something hidden in her gaze, knew she was eager to tease you over it, but she quickly dropped it, not wanting to scare you off after finally being able to coax you back in.
âIâm almost done,â she said, âthe burgers will just be another minute or two. Why donât you lay up the table, ready for everyone.â
You didnât give her a verbal response, instead headed straight to the draw to retrieve the cutlery and placemats. âLet me help you with that.â Joaquinâs voice came from behind you. You turned your head with a start. You hadnât even heard him follow you in.
âUh, thanks,â you said quietly as he took the handful of cutlery from you and followed you to the dining table.
You were both silent as you began to put down the placemats, Joaquin following close behind you and laying down the cutlery. When you had finished that, he followed you back to the kitchen to help carry in the salad and condiments, which you laid out in the middle of the table so people could help themselves.
âIâm sorry- uh I mean, earlier, this afternoon. Thank you for uh,â Your voice froze. Gosh this was awful. You desperately wanted to bridge the gap you had placed between the two of you, but you didnât know how. âIâm sorry I was a dick!â you finally blurted out.
He let out a little snicker at your outburst, but quickly schooled his features, knowing you were trying to have a serious conversation. âItâs okay, donât worry about it.â
âI know, it just⌠I know I can be a bitâŚâ
âHostile?â He said, filling in the word you were struggling with.
âYeah. Hostile.â you repeated.
âItâs okay. I know you donât mean it. Itâs not easy losing a parent. Itâs not easy losing anyone.â he corrected himself. âGrief makes us do odd things sometimes. Just know that youâre not alone. Okay?â
âOkay.â your repeated.
âIâm here for you. Come rain or shine. Night or day. You donât have to do this on your own.â
âI know,â you sighed, your head hanging, almost in shame. âIâve just⌠never really been that good at asking forâŚâ
âHelp?â
âYeah,â you sighed.
âLook,â he said, and you watched at he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a bit of paper with his number on it. You hated to think how long heâd had it sat in there just waiting for the right moment to give it to you. âThis is my number. Call me whenever.â
You took it from him and couldnât help the small smile that danced on your lips as your fingers played with the piece of paper you had been handed. âEven in the middle of the night when I canât sleep?â you asked him, both earnestly, but with a hint of suggestiveness you hoped heâd pick up on.
He was silent a moment as he analysed you. Wanting to check and make sure you had meant to imply what you had. When he realised you had, he hung his head in an attempt to hide the blush in his cheeks and the shit eating grin that adorned his face. âYeah,â he sighed, finally looking back up across the table at you, an entirely new kind of tension between you now, âespecially then,â he said and you knew that was one offer of help you were never going to turn down.
When the hell did I did get 100 followers?! I looked last night and it was 100 followers!! Yâall!! Thank you so much!! (But seriously, when did it happen? Was it when I was in my cave?)
