#agtwalker

[aston1sh1ng]

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[svoyadovaarchived]

𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆. 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐.

( x ) based on a conversation w/ @agtwalker.  Yelena goes to have coffee with Olivia.

"You never said anything about John..." Olivia states firm and curious.

Yelena's heart lurches. Her eyes are probably widened.

Not because she doesn’t know, but because saying it feels like breaking the skin. Like the feeling you get when you pull out a splinter and bleed a little, just before the healing starts.

Olivia’s question lingers like smoke, only to make her consider: Are you sure you love him? Or is Robby the one holding you here?

Yelena looks down at her hands.

One of her nails is chipped from picking at the label on Robby’s juice box earlier. That stupid cardboard triangle that never peels right. She remembers laughing when she couldn’t get it open and John took it from her, muttering, "God, how are you trained to kill people but can't take out a juice carton?"

She should say something. But her mouth won’t move yet.

So instead, her mind drifts...

To the smell of John’s shirts when they come back from the dry cleaners: starch, cedar, that clean cotton scent she pretends not to bury her face in when she puts them away. To the way he runs too hot at night and still pulls her in close like a furnace, like she’s his anchor and his shield all at once. To the way he wakes up gasping sometimes -- those nightmares that still claw their way into the dark-- and how he always turns toward her, even if he won’t say what he saw. ...To the dumb little arguments -- like how she always leaves the cap off the toothpaste, or how he leaves his boots in the hallway...sometimes worse -- who should've taken point and why didn't you listen to me when I told you I had it?!? --and how they don’t slam doors. They just drift. Separate rooms. Cool off. And then they find each other again. Like gravity.

He’s never said I love you.Neither has she. They don’t need to ...not yet. He knows. She's sure he knows. It’s there in the way he holds her, like she’s breakable and unbreakable all at once. It’s there in how she never looks over her shoulder anymore, because she knows he’ll be behind her. Always.

And still… she’s terrified.

Terrified that if she says it aloud -- if she names it -- it’ll slip through her fingers.

But Olivia asked. And Yelena respects her too much to lie.

So she speaks, quiet but certain.

"I didn't say anything about John." She affirms. She lifts her eyes and takes a steady breath, "Because I think I've been scared to admit it, even to myself. I've never had this kind of love before..." her eyes squint as she looks a bit off to the side, "Ordinary...in a way. And--there...Just...there."

Olivia interjects with a slight laugh. "You and I have two very different lives. I can only imagine..." She's very aware of Yelena's history. A child stolen from her own family, an assassin, brainwashed, so on and so forth. She's no stranger to the court of public opinion or the slam pieces done on any of the Avengers. New, and past.

Yelena continues, "I know...it's weird...Someone like me....Clean laundry and falling asleep on the couch with a toddler between us..." Yelena's eyes land upon Robby again, and she smiles.

"I will admit, when he first told me --I wasn't very kind." Olivia explains. "I had this image of you because, well, I've seen you on TV. - same as everyone else. We've barely spoken. Last I saw you, dropping Robby off, you didn't say a single word to me." She scoffs slightly, tilting her head, examining Yelena's reaction -- is there shame present, or just awareness?

"I want to make it very clear, I love John." Olivia states, the one thing Yelena always knew. That love doesn't just go away, John. -- she'd told him. There's a shift, a pause, a deep sigh on Olivia's part. "I love whatever we used to be, young and in love...He will always be Robby's father. But-- " she drifts -- it's her turn to consider the memories...

She left because she was tired of being the only one trying to keep them whole. At first, she thought they could survive anything: the deployment, the long silences, the versions of John that came back from war a little more frayed each time. He was always a little more distant. A little more guarded. The man she married was steady and golden and good-hearted ...and he still was, in so many ways, somewhere beneath the armor --but that man became harder to reach.

And when he came back after everything -- after the shield, the scandal, the blood -- she could barely recognize him.

She stood by him through the trial. The media storm. The forced smiles. The therapy. She defended him when the world turned its back. She held the line. But he wouldn’t let her in.

He couldn’t name what he was feeling. Couldn’t explain the darkness, the distance, the guilt. And he didn’t want to drag her into it ... so instead, he kept her just far enough away to protect her, not realizing that the silence was doing the real damage.

Eventually, she stopped knocking on doors that never opened.

"I didn’t leave him because he broke," she told a friend once. "I left because he wouldn’t let me help him put the pieces back together--I'm not that person."

There were good days. Laughter. Love. Even hope. But too often, she felt like a single parent and a single partner. And when Robby started sobbing for Daddy like he was always gone, even when he was in the same room, Olivia knew she had to make a different choice.

Not for revenge. Not for punishment. For peace. For all of them.

They split with more heartbreak than anger. They still co-parent with grace. They still care. Olivia let go because staying had started to hollow the both of them out.

--Olivia takes a sip of her coffee, then sets it down. Her fingers trace the edge of the cup.

She swallows.

"--But sometimes love isn’t enough. Not when it’s one-sided. Not when you're raising a child and carrying a man who ...won’t let you help carry him." Olivia shrugs then, her expression somewhere between a soft resignation and merely reality. It is what it is. There's no bitterness. Only recognition to a future that doesn't include what they once had.

Her voice doesn’t crack. It’s not fresh grief anymore. It’s a healed scar.

Her eyes meet Yelena’s again. Steady. Kind. "I don’t think John meant to shut me out. I think he thought he was protecting me from the worst of it. But that wall? It started to feel like a choice." Here, she eyes Yelena, a little teary, a little certain. "I never went to war, I don't know what that feels like. But, you do. -- I'm not comparing. But I do know, with your shared experiences, maybe it's easier to take it down...and that's okay. It is -- it is." Olivia nods, even as a tear slithers down her cheek she smiles through it. It's as if she knows that Yelena needs to hear it.

She doesn't want to be bitter, or hold onto anger. Mostly because that's not what Robby needs.

Yelena cannot help but extend her hand. As if pure instinct, she places it atop Olivia's.

"If you really knew what I've done - the kind of person that I am..." Yelena starts, and Olivia is having none of it. She shakes her head. "None of that matters compared to now, does it? Do you believe you're a good person? Deep down, would you say, that you have a heart, Yelena?" Olivia challenges.

It causes Yelena to sit back, as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

"You save people, don't you get that?" Olivia's voice feels more like an echo now, things Yelena has tried time and time again to tell herself, but never believed. Not really, not fully, not even now. "Little girls, little boys...children," She nods to the one in her lap right now, "Look up to you. That has got to mean something."

Somehow, Yelena feels attacked. Not by Olivia. By her own mindset. The same patterned thinking that had been used to control her once upon a time. It's a learned knee-jerk reaction, she has to push away the dark in order for the light to encapsulate.

Her eyes fill to the brim with tears, and she swallows.

Olivia squeezes Yelena's hand. Yelena takes a moment, she allows it to sink in.

She hadn't expected this meeting to turn into some form of therapy. Then again, neither hand Olivia.

Here they are, with the possibility of being friends.

There's a long beat. Olivia allows whatever has come crashing down to dissipate. Yelena wipes her face, stealing a few napkins to finish the job.

"Love is never simple. And loving yourself? Takes time too. That I do know somethin' about." Olivia begins again, "John is learning to be soft again, I can see it. And most days, he'll forget how to be, you'll have to remind him ...so no use being as hardheaded as you are. Although - that could work to your advantage."

Yelena laughs. And Olivia smiles. Robby hiccups, then giggles.

Lena reaches out for Robby's hand, his fingertips extend, and her beam blossoms until it showcases in her eyes.

"If you are really real about this, don't wait to tell him. Knowing what you two do... you both act like you are guaranteed tomorrow." Olivia raises her shoulders faintly and sighs, punctuating the sentiment there.

Don't risk it.

Yelena nods. Understood.

"Can I hold him again?" she quietly asks.

[aston1sh1ng]

@agtwalker : 🎲🎲 kiss roulette meme

39. A tentative kiss.

So, he's blond. That's not why Scott's staring at his lips. His lips aren't blond. ( That makes no biological sense! ) They're simply his. And they're moving ever-so-tactically as he speaks, like they want to make themselves known. Like they're begging Scott to give up trying to maintain any semblance of eye contact and indulge himself in something quite contrary - a whole other realm of contact.

But it's John Walker. How does one kiss John Walker? ( Well, on the lips, of course, but it's more of a spiritual how. A how that thunders and forces hesitation down your chest. ) Scott's never been good at holding back. It doesn't work for him - never did. But all that really does is return him to the how. What does one say? Doing-wise, he's not being so subtle. His eyes are darting up and down like he's about to have a seizure, and the admiration sparkling within them could not have made things any more blatant.

"I, uh." You, uh, what? He finds his feet dragging him a step ahead, and that dreaded thumb with a mind of its own finding the tip of John's jawline, brushing back against it with a firm yet ... hesitant caress. "I usually listen to you. I like to. But, man, I ... can't seem to focus this time around. I heard absolutely nothing you said." The admission is said with a lilt of apology in that voice of his, coy little smile on his face that soon fades as he further zones out of the room and well into the other man's eyes.

"Because I just keep thinking ... what if I ..." With a drag back, first, and a twitch of that thumb, he closes the distance in a gradual lean - something to offer John a chance to slap him across the face, there, if he's not so inclined to go along. If it doesn't happen, lips meet. He presses them into John's and can't seem to find a balance between the tentativeness at the start and his desire to roughen it up. It's something more emotional than it is firm, the contact, a sincere kiss blurring the line between the time spent on it and all that came before. He's holding onto the side of his face, now, rest of the palm against his head as though holding onto him for dear life. The other hand finds his waist. Then they part - Scott breaks contact, and it immediately sets in what he'd done. For once, he doesn't know what to say.

[107thsoldat-freezerburnt]

« @agtwalker  :   it  all  just  seems  so  much  easier  for  everybody  else.  am  i  wrong? »

The  question  stalls  him  for  a  moment.   Because  he  wasn't  sure  he  had  as  simple  of  an  answer  as  he  was  sure  Walker  was  hoping  it  to  be.   Walker  had  never  asked  for  anything  that  happened  to  him  ,  ┈┈  and  Bucky  had  never  asked  for  what  had  happened  to  him.   Both  of  them  ,  blamed  for  the  things  they  did.   Sure  there  were  differences  ,         (  but  if  you  thought  about  it  the  right  way  they  had  more  in  common  than  Bucky  wanted  to  admit.  )   Because  it  called  out  the  things  in  himself  that  he  needed  to  work  on  ,  ┈┈  as  well  as  the  insecurities  Bucky  felt  as  well.   Only  he  had  given  up  on  trying  to  find  the  answer  to  that  question.

Because  it  wasn't  that  simple.   It  wasn't  a  matter  of  who  had  it  easier  ,  ┈┈  what  mattered  was  being  there  when  someone  found  their  hard  times.   It  had  taken  Bucky  some  time  to  realize  that  part.

“  It's  not  that  simple  I  don't  think.  ”   His  voice  came  out  quiet  ,  but  honest.   A  raw  side  of  him  ,  ┈┈  that  he  made  a  habit  of  hiding  away  from  most  of  the  world.   He  certainly  hadn't  really  ever  shown  that  side  to  Walker.         (  much  to  his  shame  he  only  really  ever  judged  the  guy  until  recently.  )   Pot  calling  the  kettle  black  in  some  ways.   Judging  a  man  for  being  someone  that  nobody  could  ever  be.   He'd  been  waiting  for  John  to  prove  he  could  be  Steve  Rogers  ,  ┈┈  that  he  failed  to  see  what  John  Walker  brought  to  the  table.

“  It's  never  easy  for  any  of  us.   Not  even  me.  ”   He  finally  admitted.   Especially  not  him.   He  let  people  think  he  had  a  handle  on  everything  ,  ┈┈  but  even  he  had  days  where  he  was  barely  holding  it  together.   “  I  know  I  let  on  that  I  got  all  my  shit  together  but…That's  honestly  the  farthest  thing  from  the  truth  sometimes.  ” 

[107thsoldat-freezerburnt]

j.  walker: please,  i  dare  you  to  try  and  stop  me.   ,   @agtwalker.

THERE'S  AN  INCREDULOUS  LOOK  IN  THOSE  ICY  BLUE  EYES.   Looking  back  at  Walker  as  if  he  had  just  said  the  dumbest  thing  he  could  think  of.         (  not  to  dare  to  stop  him  like  he  was  going  to  entertain  that.  )   Head  tilted  to  the  side.   If  Walker  thought  he  was  just  gonna  sit  there  and  do  nothing  ,  ┈┈  he  was  about  to  be  sorely  mistaken.   That  wasn't  how  Bucky  did  things  ,  not  anymore.   The  day  they  all  decided  to  stick  together  on  this  was  the  day  they  became  a  team.   And  like  Walker  Bucky  held  that  with  more  meaning  than  most.

“  Wow.   You're  even  dumber  than  I  thought  if  you  think  I'm  just  gonna  let  ya  walk  int'that  alone.  ”   He  could  see  it  ,  ┈┈  the  determination  and  sheer  drive  that  Walker  got  when  he  set  his  mind  to  something.   He  pushed  off  the  cargo  box  he  was  leaning  against  ,         (  moving  to  match  pace  with  the  blonde  as  he  continued  on  his  course.  )   “  You  know  this  isn't  a  good  idea.   Not  without  backup.   So  why  don't  we  just  hold  up  a  sec  ,  and  think  this  one  through.  ”

He  paused  ,  but  went  as  far  as  to  reach  with  the  metal  arm  to  grab  hold  of  his  bicep.   If  only  just  to  get  the  man  to  stop  ,  ┈┈  one  last  effort  before  he  just  went  alone  with  him.         (  and  he  hated  how  likely  he  looked  like  that  was  going  to  be  the  option  he  was  going  to  have  to  take.  )   “  Look  ,  you're  not  goin  without  backup.   Least  you  could  do  is  walk  me  through  this  plan.  ”

[107thsoldat-freezerburnt]

j.  walker: buildings  aren't  haunted.  people  are.   ,   @agtwlker

He  doesn't  like  admitting  how  often  Walker's  words  stop  him  in  his  tracks  ,  ┈┈  how  much  he  reminds  him  of  himself  in  certain  moments.   At  one  point  ,  it  drove  him  nuts.         (  made  it  easier  to  want  to  hate  the  guy  really.  )   But  this  whole  ,  New  Avengers  ,  or  whatever  the  hell  bullshit  Val  was  pulling  ,  it  forced  Bucky  to  stop  seeing  this  fight  as  something  he  was  doing  on  his  own.

None  of  them  were.

Bucky  could  at  least  admit  he  was  wrong  about  him  ,  ┈┈  and  more  and  more  each  day  he  was  proving  his  initial  opinion  wrong  about  the  guy.   Maybe  he  hadn't  been  a  natural  Captain  America  ,  but  he  didn't  really  need  to  be.

“  They  sure  are  ,  ”   He  let  out  ,  allbeit  a  bit  uneasy  as  his  gaze  looked  out  at  the  water.   “  If  you  and  I  aren't  proof  of  that  ,  I  dunno  what  is.  ”   It  was  easy  for  Bucky  to  see  himself  as  haunted  ,  ┈┈  seeing  it  in  others  always  felt  worse  no  matter  how  many  times  it  happened.   “I  guess  th'nice  thought  is  …  Ghosts  aren't  permanent  …  Just  waiting.  ”   Bucky  then  looked  back  to  John  ,         (  looking  at  him  not  with  judgment  but  with  understanding.  )   “  Waiting  just  ..  makes  em  angry.   So  what  are  you  waiting  on?  ”   Again  ,  his  tone  wasn't  pressing  ┈┈  not  demanding  of  an  answer.   But  trying  the  best  he  knew  how  ,  to  walk  with  the  blonde  through  the  very  real  ghosts  haunting  him.

[svoyadovaarchived]

@agtwalker.

The Tower is quiet when John steps off the elevator, the halls are dim, the kind of hush that only comes at nightfall in a place full of people trained to stay alert even in sleep.

Yelena isn’t in the common area. Not in the gym. He finds her in the guest quarters she never really made hers, curled up on top of the covers, one of his sweatshirts swallowed around her like armor, the sleeves cover her petite hands.

She hadn’t answered his texts. Not after the appointment. The appointment he had no idea about... There's a slightly crumpled up piece of paper on the nightstand, beside where her head rests, bold lettering that peeks: NEGATIVE.

Yelena can smell his familiar cologne, and she stirs. "Hey..." her voice cracks, eyes a little tender. Red-rimmed, but dry now. Braver, even in heartbreak. She sniffs and adjusts, a soft smile presenting, she's happy he's home. Happy to see him, even if there's a war happening behind her eyes--grief and pride and something else she’s never let herself say.

Lena reaches, and cups his face tenderly. "Did you have a good day?"

[svoyadovaarchived]

@agtwalker.

The early morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, casting a warm glow across the small bedroom. Yelena stirs first--years of habit, of vigilance that never quite left her. But today, it isn't danger that greets her... it's him.

She blinks slowly, taking in the sight beside her: John Walker, peaceful for once, the faint rise and fall of his chest steady, untroubled. He looks younger in his sleep. Softer. The lines of war and weight and expectation eases from his face, just for a little while.

Yelena doesn't move at first. She just watches him.

"glupyy mal'chik," she whispers with the smallest smile, her voice is fond and quiet enough to avoid waking him. Carefully, she reaches over and brushes a stray lock of blonde hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering just a little too long.

Her heart aches in the way it does when things feel too good. She’d seen too much to believe peace like this lasted—but it was here now, and she wasn’t about to waste it.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she murmurs again, then settles back into the sheets beside him, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw like she needs to memorize it.

Softly then, she makes the effort to get up, feather-light so not to disturb him. Rest. He needs rest. Besides, she actually likes cooking, and eggs and bacon sounds like Heaven.