boxer!rafe can't stop thinking about you pregnant, and some would say he got more protective when you did get pregnant.
you weren't showing yet, but he was always keeping a watchful eye on you, protective hand wandering to your midsection.
after the scare you gave him at the games, he watched you all the time, willfully bringing home more food than was needed, feeling willing to come back home when he heard your whines through the phone, and buying you the most beautiful sundresses ever.
sometimes the two of you would spend more time together, looking out the balcony as he smoked a cigarette, and you looked outside with a dazed expression, hand stroking your stomach. he watched the way your nose wrinkled when a trendil of smoke reached your nose.
you made a screwed face, and then looked back at rafe with a pointed look, "i don't like that."
the next day all the cigarettes in your house were gone, and he went back to boxing. it was sweet the way your small proclamation could command him to do anything. sometimes you couldn't help but test it. test how much he loved you, and how willing he was go to. you knew it was bad the way you were acting, but you ached for the attention.
so it was all to plan when you woke up craving a burger.
not just any burger. it needed to be homemade, or even one of the burgers that rafe had made you during your first date. you remember it so clearly, the way his hand scimmed past your back as he helped you chop the cucumbers, a soft hand twirling a tendril of your hair.
it was all in your head, and suddenly you needed the burger with your life. you were pawing at his chest, soft whines leaving your mouth. he woke suddenly, taking a deep inhale of air.
"what's wrong?" he muttered, words slurred with sleep. you couldn't feel but feel bad as you pouted at him. you were wearing a pretty nightgown with a bow at the top. you watched him scan your swollen body.
you were pulling all the routes as you lowered your voice, "i need a burger."
he looked at you incredulously, eyebrows raised putting his rough hand on your shoulder, "right now?"
you frowned, before rubbing your stomach, "yes."
he groaned, falling back to head head first. you bit your tongue to stop giggles from spilling out of your mouth. he was so soft with you now, and you knew that months ago he would never act like this. but you couldn't help but tug at his arm as a grunt fell from his mouth.
"do you really need it, mama?"
now you couldn't stop your smile. you loved it when he called you 'mama,' and you loved the gentle tilt of his mouth when he called you that. and you rested your head back, nodding. finally, he gave an annoyed sigh before getting out of bed.
"goddamn it," he groaned, pulling a cleaner shirt up his head. you rested at his feet watching him put on his clothes. there was something so domestic about the whole scenario. tanyhilll was full of pictures of the two of you, small pieces of the two of you.
finally, as if he realised you were watching him, he scowled looking at you. still in your nightgown with a frenzied look on your face, he seemed to sigh again.
"ah, don't you think you should change?" he murmured, hands skimming over your top. you melted at his touch, practically hopping into his lap with eagerness. he let out a laugh before gently pushing you away, "listen. you gotta change out of that. can't have you looking like that."
you gave him a cheeky smile as if it was the middle of the day instead of three in the morning. somehow you found increasing amounts of energy and rafe was always confused about how you did it all.
"look like what?"
he shook his head, eyes flashing with slight annoyance, "nah. 'm not doing that today. get up bun, 'n go change."
although he sounded demanding you couldn't help but feel your heart drum harder at his words, biting your lip as you pulled on one of his old sweatshirts.
that night you got your burger, and he got you.
please let me know if you'd like to added to the boxer!rafe taglist!!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39
Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n
Word count: 6.4 k
Synopsis: Laughter sits in your chest because you have fallen no less than a hundred times, not including the time you jumped off a balcony. Or rolled out of a helicarrier, had a building fall on top of you, had bombs blow up near you.
Standing in the store looking at pregnancy tests, your hands shake as you look over the box. This wasn’t happening? James had been gone a week, you had an implant that shouldn’t expire for another year, yet you had been throwing up for almost three days. Food was not staying down, you were barely getting soup and water in. There was no fever, cold sweats, coughing, sore throat, or other flu-like symptoms. You were a damn doctor, you would know if you had a flu. Right?
Looking at the test, you want to throw up all over again. Instead, you grab the mints from your pocket and down three. They now just took off the edge. You’d also been drinking a lot of ginger tea. Again, it was barely helping.
You close your eyes, willing yourself to just buy the damn test. If it was positive, you could talk to Shuri or Kona and get a blood test done. Get a prescription for anti-nausea medication. That made you pause. You had already decided you were pregnant; you knew your body. James had smelt it the day he left. The mood swings, not wanting to eat, the constant feeling of impending doom. Yeah, it didn’t take a specialist to figure this out.
Taking that test, you grab two packets of gum and go to the front, paying before running out like a mad person. The city feels extraordinarily loud, bright, and busy right now. You move through the crowds and can’t help the tears that prick at your eyes. No. Not here; you need somewhere quiet. Turning down an alley and then down another small road, you find a tiny bakery. Buying a coffee and a pastry, you leave the food to run into the bathroom.
Is taking an emergency pregnancy test in a cafe smart? No, not at all, but if you don’t, you fear you may lose your marbles. At least the last few you still held.
The box has two tests, two small cups that was new, and a bunch of papers in three dozen different languages. You were a doctor, you huff. It wasn’t like you hadn’t taken one before; there had been scares. That's why you had an implant, for fucksakes.
Peeing, you fill the cups and place them on the counter while scrubbing your hands thoroughly. Then lean your head against the cool tiles of the bathroom and start counting backwards from sixty.
This wasn’t happening.
You weren’t pregnant.
Nope, you were definitely pregnant.
Why was your mind such a scrambled mess?
Hormones.
You had lost track of how long it had been. Glancing over at the tests, you think for a moment about tossing them in the bin and walking out. Breathing, you start to count backwards again, trying to visualize the numbers one at a time. It barely helped curb your anxiety. You wanted James so badly. That was selfish; again, he was doing something so important right now. But he’d want to be here; he’d want to know. Your mind was traitorously going back to the morning when the two of you had briefly talked about wanting to have a semi-normal life. How surprised he’d been, excited at the prospect.
Now you were standing in a random cafe wondering if that choice was taken from you both. It wasn’t actually taken, you knew there were solutions, there were always solutions. Not without James. That was logical? He was the father, you were in a relationship, and had talked about kids.
Grabbing the test, you pick it up, positive.
You barely make it to the toilet before you are dry heaving into it. Very grateful that you hadn’t actually eaten anything besides mints.
It subsides enough for you to grab the other one.
Positive.
Holding up both tests, it's impossible not to see the two crosses.
“Holy shit,” You gasp, unable to stop staring at them. “I am pregnant.”
Dropping them into the trash. Your hand goes over your lower stomach, the room spins, and you have to grab the sink so you don’t fall over.
Kona sits across from you, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t have a general practitioner, not really anyone to actually go to about this. Shuri was amazing, yet you couldn’t go to her for some reason. So, you did the next best thing and went to Kona. You were going to blame this one entirely on hormones. You should have gone to Shuri.
“I think we should take this to Shuri,” Kona says after you’d explained that you wanted blood work done for a pregnancy test. “I can run the test, but it’s going to show up in your file, which she will see. Not to be blunt, ahh, she reads them regularly.”
Groaning, you rub a hand against your face. “You’re right. I am-” You sigh. “I am a mess, and I didn’t know what to do.”
Kona nods, lacing his fingers together. “Your situation is complicated, becoming a parent is a life-changing event. Which is why we should have Shuri in on this. She knows more about your relationship and how this could affect you and your pregnancy.”
“Okay,” You wipe at your eyes. How the hell did you become like this, all because an egg got fertilized? Bodies are stupid. Nope, you correct yourself, not stupid, complicated.
It takes less than ten minutes to find Shuri, the three of you move to a small room so that you can explain what is going on. Shuri looks torn between being excited and terrified. You sit on the exam table and try not to feel the nausea swirling in your stomach. Kona takes blood, his hand sure and quick, knowing your preferred arm. The other woman disappears and comes back with a portable scanner and a laptop.
“Just lay back on the table, and I will get preliminary scans. There shouldn’t be much to see, but we can get an idea of how far along you are.” Shuri explains at breakneck speeds.
Laying back, you watch as Shuri runs the scanner over your abdomen three times, the images popping up onto the screen. They don’t look any different than a normal uterus, except for a very small growth against the wall.
“You’re in the very early stages, probably around the five or six weeks along,” Shuri explains, zooming in on the image and highlighting the small growth.
Tears flood your eyes, because of course they do, you close them tightly, willing them back. A hand rests on your arm, and you look up to see Shuri looking at you, worry lining her face. She was so much younger than you and yet you explicitly trusted her.
“Would you like me to get an obstetrician?” Her voice has gone down a notch, the never-ending energy dampened.
“No,” You say simply, “I am too early along, I could lose it tomorrow.”
Shuri nods, looking back at the laptop at what is essentially a small bundle of cells. “From my observations, this wasn’t a planned pregnancy?”
Your hand automatically goes to your arm, moving down to the small implant that still sits below the surface. “It wasn’t. I have an implant, it’s supposed to be good for at least another year.”
Her hand grabs the scanner, turning your wrist so she can scan the area you just touched. Her fingers carefully type at the screen, pulling up the image, sure enough, there is the tiny device. Shuri scans again and zooms in on it, your eyes go wide as you see it’s cracked in two places.
“It’s cracked,” You point out the obvious. “How the hell?”
“How many times have you fallen in the last twelve months, Doctor?” Shuri raises an eyebrow.
Laughter sits in your chest because you have fallen no less than a hundred times, not including the time you jumped off a balcony. Or rolled out of a helicarrier, had a building fall on top of you, had bombs blow up near you. Not once did you think about whether it would have impacted your implant. You’d been careful when you’d taken antibiotics, pain meds, and steroids, but not this.
“Well, I’ve fallen a lot. As I am sure you know.” You let out a small laugh. “I felt it regularly, but without having it scanned-”
“There was no way of knowing.” Shuri finished for you.
A moment later, Kona comes into the room, holding a tablet tight in his hands. He looks between you and Shuri before letting out a breath. “I see the birth control implant is broken. That would explain how you are six weeks pregnant.”
Emotions bubble in your chest as you look at the two medical staff. “Of course, at least I know for sure now.”
The room was silent for a moment, pregnancies were usually happy, right? Ones that weren’t between two essentially fugitives who worked for the Avengers. It was supposed to be planned, their own place, the world not on the edge of some other horrific war. Something normal. Then again, nothing in your life had been normal for years now. So why would this be any different?
“I will get tools to remove the implant from your arm.” Shuri looks at Kona for a moment. “The files you gave to us, was that everything from hydra?”
“Yes, that’s everything we had access to. Some came from decommissioned bases, others from intelligence.” You feel like a pit has opened up in your stomach, you wanted James. You wanted him here holding your hand and telling you it was going to be okay.
You had read over those files at least a dozen times, probably more, but you had been looking for clues on how to unlock his mind. Before that, you had been looking at his medical records, but not for reproductive reasons. Something nagged at the back of your mind, there hadn’t been much on James’ ability to reproduce, in fact, it seemed to be starkly missing from his files.
Shuri nods, as Kona helps prep the small tray with a few tools to extract the implant. “I have done a little of my own research. They mentioned several times that James was part of the ‘Winter Soldier Program’. Digging through the files, I couldn’t find any other mentions of the program.”
There is a pinch as lidocaine is injected into your arm. “We never really looked into it.” You bite your lip as you feel the pressure of the scalpel. “Did you find something?”
Brows furrowed, Shuri easily pulls out the implant pieces. “Not in the files you gave me. Doing my own digging into our own archive, I did find a small amount of about hydra wanting to breed the perfect soldier. Seems they had been following the nazi’s line of thinking. A soldier that would submit to them without the brainwashing.”
“Oh god,” Your heart lurched as your hand fell to your stomach. “Was there anything else?”
“All of their trials failed,” Shuri speaks softly, as Kona applies pressure on the small wound before putting a small band-aid on it. “At least the ones they documented.”
Your jaw clenched, the idea that Hydra was trying to breed soldiers was diabolical, disgusting, and exactly what they would do. “Our chance of this being a viable pregancy are low then.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Shuri’s face goes dark, Kona takes the moment to slip out of the room. She moves over to take your hand in hers, it is surprisingly comforting. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be. Their notes were vague, and nothing mentioned James directly. If you decided to go forward with it, we will set you up with the best people.”
The sinking feeling comes back, pulling the nausea back in full force, Kona shows up just in time to hand you a trash can. You lose the little food you had, wanting to curl up in a ball and disappear. Which was exactly the opposite of what you needed to do.
Letting a breath out, you realign your focus, hands clenched against the metal of the table. “For now I just need something to help me keep food down. And I need to keep this discussion about my current state to stay between us. I trust both of you, but right now James is my priority. He is going through untold turmoil, and I cannot let having a bundle of cells in my uterus derail that.”
Shur nods, giving a small sad smile. “Understood.”
The forest’s eyes were still on him, they remained out of sight, but he could hear them occasionally. Bucky kept waiting to see one of them come out, to know that the end was coming. Time didn’t move the same way here, there was no night or day, just the same never-ending light. It should have been alarming, but after spending so long in his own mind, it felt almost normal. He ate when he came across fruit, went down to the creek when he needed water, rinse and repeat. The need for sleep never crossed his mind, his feet hurt, calluses had thickened, and his hair needed a wash.
After seeing Becca, Tim Dugan was the one to pull him out of his spiral, Dum Dum of all people. The man had berated him like a toddler, but it had made him get up. His voice and command were enough to remind him that he had been through worse and could get through this. Since then, he had been visited by all the members of the Howling Commandos, a reunion of sorts. One he had only hoped to have in a past life. Maybe in a different life he had been able to go home, have drinks, retell stories, grow old together. Share war stories around tables, and watch their kids play together.
It had left a hollow feeling in his chest. They were just memories, things his mind had created to comfort him after having reality shoved into his face. All of them were dead. They thought he had died, had no idea he was out there. No one did. It should have been a comfort that they had died without having to know exactly what their friend had turned into.
Now he was alone. So painfully alone. Even the Soldier had gone weirdly quiet. He focuses on you, pulling a picture of you into his mind and holding onto it like a lifeline. Remembering your smell, your voice, how your hand fit in his. Your endless energy for your work, for him. The way you go out of your way to care for him without making him feel like a burden.
It was hard to understand how he could deserve this; not only was a whole community rallying behind him to help him free his mind, but he had you. Bucky physically made his shoulders relaxed, you would have a detailed speech with references about how he deserved this and more. Steve would cross his arms, and Sam would raise an eyebrow. That was part of it, holding it, being okay with it being there. Yet, it kept coming back, and probably would. Healing wasn’t linear; it would come and go, and he would learn how to deal with it.
Looking up the trail, Bucky was amazed to see that the trail was coming to a crest, the sun was starting to set, an actual sunset. Something in his chest urges him to get to the top as fast as possible, for fear that if he didn’t, it would disappear.
At the top, gasping for air, Bucky took in the sight. Stretched ahead of him was the expanse of trees, scrub brush, and further the endless plains of the savannah. It was all bathed in the slowly dying light of the sun, pinks, reds, and purples bouncing around them. Birds flew by, bugs chittered, and things moved through the underbrush.
Something loosened his chest, a knowledge that he had made it through. All he had to do was make it to the bottom.
Bucky let that thought sink him into the ground, he hadn’t realized how tired he was. His bones ached in a strangely familiar way. He felt human. A small laugh escapes him. Human. How long had he seen himself as something twisted beyond humanity? Only briefly feeling grounded when he was with you.
“Not anymore,” Bucky says out loud to the birds. “I am going to be free.”
He sits there and watches the sun go down, listening to the forest start to slowly come alive. It was beautiful. For some, it might be terrifying to listen to all the different creatures start to announce their presents; for him, it was a comfort he didn’t know he needed.
No voices, no hallucinations, just the wildlife. Even his own mind had gone quiet.
At some point he moved over to a tree and leaned against it. Exhaustion was actually starting to seep into his bones, and he eventually fell asleep.
The cold of morning was what woke him; dew covered him in a thin layer of droplets. A smile cracked onto his face, he’d slept through the night, no nightmares, no fear, just sleep. Maybe he needed to do these nature walks more often. He tucked that away for later. Standing up, he felt his bones creak, he needed water and maybe something to eat.
Stopping, he looked out at the world, watching the sun start to spread its rays over the area, the world was beautiful. The trail before him was gentle, winding back and forth, a bird rustled the grass just down from him. Behind him, he could just feel the eyes of his followers. Maybe he’d actually meet them this time, maybe he’d get to go home. The image of you popping into his mind made his heart flips, he needed you more than water, more than air. That sweet smell entered his mind, that minor change that had made him stop in his tracks.
Something deep in his mind knew that you had changed, something was different. Bucky just couldn’t figure out what it was. That sweet smell, like ripe mangos? Or oranges? Something fruity and sweet.
Bucky wanted to tell you about his sister Rebecca, his Mom, the Howling Commandos. Happy memories. Stories that made him smile, made his heart hurt, made him miss his family and friends. At the same time, he wanted to see you, hold onto you, and know that he couldn’t be used to hurt you again. He wanted to see Steve and Sam, thank them for standing beside him. There was so much he wanted to do.
Sliding down the hill to the creek, Bucky takes several good mouthfuls of fresh water. Now it was time to head down, time to go home. He could just make out the sound of footsteps in the brush, their movements weren’t as hidden as they had been before. His body felt light and his mind clear. Had he really broken free? Was this what it felt like?
As he made his way down, the gentle pressure of the Soldier emerged. It felt comforting not being completely alone, knowing that the other part of him was feeling this as well. The pressure wasn't as weighted or as frantic as it had been. Bucky mentally nudged the other presence.
“Are we actually free?” The Soldier’s voice cracked around free. Disbelief surrounding him, the nagging ‘I don’t deserve this’ tainting it all.
Bucky swallows, trying to gather up his confidence. “I think we will be. Only way to know is to have someone speak the words.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What if it does?”
The sun had gone down again, Bucky hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the cycling of the day. It felt right, grounding, normal. He was becoming a sap. A small smile tugged at his lips, yep, a big sappy sap. Ahead of him, he could just make out the flicking lights of a fire. Several women stood ahead of him lining the pathway, they wore their traditional clothing, decorated in gold jewellery, making an imposing sight. Bucky respected them, knowing that they were incredibly formidable fighters, and would put him down if needed.
Despite that knowledge, he felt a swell of pride in his chest. He’d made it. Gone through the trials, and taken the time to heal a small part of himself. Heal a younger part of himself. He was greasy, tired, sunburnt, and probably dehydrated, but he made it.
The trail continued on around the corner, but Bucky was gently directed towards the fire where Ayo sat. There was another small stump for him to sit at as well. Taking a seat, he watched as the other Dora Milaje slowly faded into the darkness, they moved closer to ghosts than people. Maybe one day he would train with them, would he even be allowed?
The thought left him as Ayo drew his attention with a click of her tongue. “James Barnes, the once Winter Soldier, member of the Howling Commandos, best friend of Steve Rogers. You made it.”
Her voice made his heart stop, there was so much pride and warmth in it. Tears push at his eyes, and he has to focus on not letting them fall. “I did.” He licks his lips and gathers his voice. “I think I had helped along the way.”
She smiles, “We were only there to observe, nothing else.”
Looking down, his hand clenches in the fabric still draped around him. “Still.” Yep, turned into a sap. “It was a comfort knowing I wasn’t completely alone.”
“You’re one of the first to know we are nearby,” Ayo replies, relaxing her posture a bit. “Did you hear us?”
Bucky shook his head, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. “Not at first, just knew, been a soldier too long.”
Ayo nods. “You’re a warrior; only those worthy come out on both legs.”
He pauses, unsure how to feel. ‘Only those worthy’. Bucky had never saw himself as worthy; he was drafted, he was brainwashed, then he was fighting beside his best friend. He had been pushed into everything he had ever done. Yet, Ayo, one of the most powerful women, no, people, he had ever met, was saying he wouldn’t have made it out if he wasn’t.
“I will take your word on that,” Bucky tries. He doesn’t want to be dismissive, but he also doesn’t know how to accept that.
“We have brought you food and water,” Ayo explains, as two women appear and place both beside him.
Bucky takes a swig of the water and grabs some kind of meat from the plate. It has to be the most delicious thing he has eaten. Lifting the plate, he carefully eats a few more pieces. All the while feeling the gaze of everyone.
“Can I ask how long I’ve been gone for?” Bucky takes another sip of water. “There was no way of really telling time in there.”
“Sixteen days, a long time, understandable for how long you’ve live,” Ayo replies as if that doesn’t knock Bucky back.
“Sixteen?” He blinks a few times, trying to grasp how he could have lasted sixteen days without realizing it. “Oh. I didn’t- I need to get home.”
“You will. Finish eating. Then we will make sure you’re free from hydra’s control.” Ayo stares at him.
Sitting at a table, you watch the sun start to crest over the hill near your home. This was your routine, you woke up before the sun had fully come up, tended to the animals, and watered the garden if it needed it. Then you’d make some tea, take your nausea meds, and watch the sun rise. Once the sun was up, you would make breakfast, then you’d either head to the city or do chores around the house.
Today marked day seventeen since Bucky had left. Seventeen days. It felt like seventeen weeks. Which was incredibly dramatic, you realized; at least you could blame it on hormones, or something. Your hand went to your stomach without your permission. Shuri had been doing scans any time she could get you alone. It was ridiculous, really. You were just shy of eight weeks, not much had changed. It was still a bundle of cells that were just a little bigger than they were before. If you didn’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t even see it.
You kept waiting for the inevitable, seeing that it was gone. Waiting for your period to start. Shuri had been reluctant to send her archived information on the Winter Soldier breeding program. You had won, stating that if you were going to go through with this pregnancy, you wanted to know all the risks. The archival data had been awful. Words like: sampling, fertilizing, transplanting, restraints. Made you want to vomit. The only bit of peace you found was that all the ‘sampling’ was done while the soldiers were in cryo. Shuri had wondered if that had affected the viability of the eggs or sperm, as the body was in a state of stasis. There was no way of actually knowing, the information Shuri had was less than ideal. A lot of it was in code, which left out a lot of crucial information.
For now, it was just wait and see. Besides the nausea, which you had now crubed thanks to Zofran, you felt mostly normal. Okay, you were crying a lot more, and you had been sleeping curled around James’ shirts every night. Being near him calmed you down. Yeah, the anxiety was also bad. Maybe being pregnant had been affecting you. You had been trying to force them down, to create routine and not let it determine your life.
Two things kept simmering in the back of your mind:
One was that James was going through deprogramming, freeing himself from the words. From multiple lifetimes of brain-washing torture, and unimagable horrors. He needed to continue down that path, to solidify his life, and freedom. A life that would continue long past the battles that were going to be coming.
The second was that you kept waiting to lose the pregancy. It sounded morbid and in many ways it was. It was also practical. You were a doctor, a researcher, and a veteran. It was logical to be prepared to lose this pregancy, you had read the papers yourself. The conditions for their experiments had been flawed, okay, they had been dismissal at best. One part of you wanted to be free of it, the other part of you wanted to hold onto hope. Hope.
You wiped at your eyes, you would go into the city, sit in on a lecture about prosthetics that you had been invited too. Something that would take your mind off your current state. That would help bolster the hope. The hope that your entire relationship had been built on, hope for a better tomorrow, for freedom, for a life that wasn’t filled with horrors. That you both could have, together.
The weight of your body made it hard to move, the thoughts swirling around your mind had added chains around your limbs. You did anyway, setting out to make breakfast and more tea. As that cooked, you went to the bedroom, cleaning up the clothes and setting the bed. You grabbed something fresh and loose to wear into the city. That had also been a habit, nothing tight, nothing that would bring attention to your stomach. Even if there was nothing to see there.
Closing the door, you went back into the kitchen to eat. You kept it bland, eggs, dry toast, and a cup of tea. Technically you could have some coffee, but had decided not to risk it.
“Not risk it,” You sigh, sitting to eat the food. At least your stomach didn’t revolt anymore; that had been beyond awful.
Next, you slipped into sandals, grabbed your bag with your tablet inside, and made your way down the main road, there you caught a car into the city. It was always interesting to watch the land go from the sprawling farmland into the city, there was a clear divide between the two places. T’Challa had talked about how vital the farm land was, instead of the city sprawling out and over the land, it grew upwards. Their towers spiralled up, levels of cities built on top of one another. Yet, even with all the layers, the lower ones never felt any different then the upper ones. Light still filtered down, vegetation still grew.
You wondered, not for the first time, what other places could learn from this one. Wakanda looked at the land as gift, something sacred and meant to be protected. It looked at its citizens as equal to everyone else. Schooling, medical care, housing, food, it was all granted to them in equal measures. Something that many would say would collapse society, nevertheless, they thrived. They built, learned, grew, and cared for their country more than most.
The car came to a stop in front of the university. You thanked the driver and paid them. Looking up at the large swirling building, you felt your body finally relax. This was something you knew, something you enjoyed. Learning. This in particular, prosthetics.
Moving through the place, you are greeted by familiar faces, a few students stop to chat with you, asking if you were coming to the lecture on the new prosthetic research. You had assured them that you were, which meant you now had several people following you through the halls. Being a public spectacle was odd. Not something you had expected to be on the receiving end of. Then again, you were part of a very public team of superheroes. No one was ever rude or pushy, you never felt in danger, but you did get a lot of questions.
What was Tony Stark like?
Did you help fix Sam Wilson's suit?
What was it like being held captive by terrorists?
Did Ultron actually die?
Have you made more EMPs
What was it like dating a super-soldier?
The last one had you setting a firm boundary. You didn’t mind talking about James, or discussing super-soldiers, however, his abilities and medical enhancements or issues were not to enter that discussion. If they wanted to know more about that, they’d have to talk to him about it. You were grateful that they understood that.
Moving up to the back of the class, you took a spot out of the proverbial spotlight. Trying to avoid disrupting the class and keeping a low profile. You were just like anyone else here, wanting to learn more about the latest technologies. Not to mention being one of the first US Doctors to learn any of this. A small bit of pride welled in your chest. You were more than lucky to be here.
Pulling out your tablet, you flip open to your notes app, writing the date and information about the classroom. At the same time, you grab your headphones to translate for you. Most people here spoke some english, enough that you could usually get by, but for lessons you liked to listen to the translation at the same time. It made sure you got all the correct info from the lecture.
The professor starts by saying hello to the class. Going over some information from a previous lecture, you write a few notes. They then pull out several mock-ups of prosthetics they had made. One was for three fingers, another one was for a below-the-knee, and the last was an entire right leg. All of them were made out of lightweight carbon fiber, fitted with neurolinks. Each piece was cross-sectioned; it showed the inner workings of each prosthetic. Wires, pumps, joints, carefully printed silicone that expanded and contracted like muscle and ligaments.
They first opened up the finger and hand prosthetic, pointing a camera towards it so that the inner pieces were projected onto the large white wall behind them. It was a work of art. A replication of what a human hand would look like, done with metal, plastic, and silicone.
You typed as fast as you could as the Prof explained how each sensor worked to connect to live nerves in the person's hand. Sensors were surgically placed into the residual limb that would then communicate with the ones in the prosthetic limb. Most of these sensors were as small as the tip of a pen. These small sensors sent electrical impulses to the brain that would act as if the hand had not lost its parts. This drastically reduced the amount of phantom pain that the amputee had. So much so that many amputees would wear them to sleep.
This was amazing news, phantom limb pain and nerve pain was horrible and something that was incredibly hard to deal with. Most pain medication barely did anything for it, there was some physical therapy and mental tricks that could be done, but it was very much hit or miss. A prosthetic that could convince the brain that the nerves were working properly and stop the pain would be a miracle.
Next was the below-the-knee piece, the Professor carefully opened it up, showing the silicone muscle-like structure that acted as the calf muscle. The gastrocnemius muscle was divided up the same way it would be naturally, then long artificial tendons were stretched down, wrapping around the carbon fiber ankle.
They pulled up a video of the patient walking with the prosthetic on. A big issue with any prosthetic was gait and movement, causing further damage to other joints in the body. Like James and his shoulder joint, the bone had eroded over time and use, causing further and further amputations. If the arm was weighted right, built like a natural limb, with the right sensors acting as nerves, you could limit the amount of wear and tear that happened to the other joints. Arms were tricky, but hips and knees were even trickier. Seeing the patient walk with little to no gait issues was, once again, mind-blowing.
A door opened behind you, causing you to turn around and see Shuri standing there. It takes you a moment for it to settle in.
James.
You hit save on your tablet and close it quickly, everything you had laid out on the small desk shoved unceremoniously into your bag. Shuri nodded and held the door open for you as you made sure to scurry out the door as quietly as possible. Your mind bouncing around, he had to be back, that was the only possibility.
“Is he back?” You ask, barely able to keep your voice quiet. Hands shaking as you remove your earbuds and toss them into the bag.
Shuri smiles, “Yes, he is back and ready to see you. I knew you’d want to be there to pick him up”
Every bone in Bucky’s body ached in ways that he hadn’t felt in a lifetime. The Soldier decided to point out that it felt like he had fallen off a train, he was an asshole sometimes. The only thing that kept him going was knowing that at the end of this path was you. You had promised to be there, and Ayo had ensured that you would be.
Ayo’s last piece of deprogramming was somehow the worst. She asked him about his time on the paths, not vague details, specifics. How did it feel? What made him realize the person wasn’t actually there? What memories did it bring up? How did he react to those memories? Were trigger words used in any of them? Did memories of hydra come up? How was the Soldier reacting to all of this? Did the Soldier still feel like a secondary entity, despite being him?
It was a lot. They had talked through the evening and well into the next morning. Bucky tried to be detailed, to explain things as he saw and experienced them. It was the most he had ever talked at one time since the forties. It was taxing in a way he didn’t know how to explain, like his soul was being laid bare in front of Ayo in an intimate way.
As they did this, Ayo would purposefully slip in trigger words, she never gave warning for them, but would lace them into the conversation. The first few times it happened, Bucky nearly asked for her to stop. Every time the word came out, the hair on his arm would stand up. The Soldier would curse and start to pace back and forth. It was part of it, part of the testing. It wasn’t just the journey through the woods, it was also making sure that words would no longer have an effect on him. That the binds were broken. It didn’t make it any easier. By the time she had said all the words, he had almost relaxed.
“Are you prepared?” Ayo asks. The fire had just been refilled, it was so dark all around him.
Bucky stared into the fire, feeling his body brace to flee. The need to run makes his heart start to pound, a deep breath, trying to get air into his lungs, trying to decide what to do.
“I will not let you hurt anyone, James Bauchan Barnes,” Ayo states, she seems so sure that the words won’t affect him.
Everything slowed down. The flames flickered golden yellow, deep reds, purples that pooled along each of the branches. Wind came down over the hills, the smell of rain wrapping around him. Rain. The sweetness of it, promise of growth, flowers, freshness, something cool and refreshing. Grass moves, feet shuffle on well-worn leather. The gold decorating Ayo glints with the power she holds. Just like the words.
He closed his eyes, bringing up the image of you. The small smile that you gave him, the way your hand fit in his, how you’d hold onto him through nightmares, the way your voice would change when you knew he needed comfort. Your endless hope, how you would stand up for him, even when he had lost all of it. Even when he wanted to give up, you’d be there. This was his to go through, but you had gotten him here. You had fought, sometimes even against him, to get here. Now he had to do the last part, had to trust that he had gone through his own healing. Had found a way back to you.
“Let's get this over with,” Bucky sighs, his hand twisting in the fabric of his clothes.
Note: Honestly struggled hard to write this chapter. I know exactly where I am going, but I still struggled so hard to write it.
Note2: Should also mention I am AFAB but have never been pregnant, that said I've been around and helped a lot of pregnant women. I am not an expert so if there is something I horribly mess up please let me know kindly.
"Dear Dad," Rhonda says to the enchanted relic, "I'll be giving birth pretty soon... Your granddaughter's getting big! It feels like I'm carrying a bowling ball whenever I move. I just want this pregnancy thing to be over, but I know I'll miss the peace and quiet..."
"We have a name picked out, now. I feel proud of it, because I think it will represent her heritage perfectly. Whenever I say her name, I'm just filled with so much joy! That's how I know this is her name..."
Rhonda is due any day now, so we're busy getting ready to take our baby home! We've prepared a nursery in the spare room and set up a bassinet in our bedroom so we can be close by at night.
Even though Rhonda's been dealing with back pain and can't move as well, this tough woman doesn't wanna quit with the ranch chores. And I know she'll wanna spend as much time with Titus as she can before the baby will grab her attention...
I've been getting more comfortable with horseback riding, now that I've been doing it for a little while. I'm getting used to the motions and the wind blowing in my face... It was pretty scary at first, but now I feel a rush every time we're going fast... I wonder if this is how Rhonda feels when she rides?
thank you for the ask<333
Answering these out of order just in incase u wanna avoid the angsty answer
S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?
-Oohhh I love a one bed trope—either platonically or romantically (but I ike both those set ups to be a bit different tho)
-hurt/comfort <333 bc I live for angst
-I love an enemies to friends to lovers. Just adore watching two people’s relationships grow and change thorough years, slowly coming to see eye to eye, forming an unbreakable bond and falling in love. But theres always that teasing nagging way they pick on each other present —So also love a slow burn !
-Also have recently been very into historical aus! Its so much fun to research and the possibilities and different periods are endless!
K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?
Oh god there are so many to pick from, published and unpublished. I loveeee angst, and making myself cry ahah
Most recently I’ve been working on something w my oc—not sure if it’ll make it in the long fic or not but its about how she deals with the concept of motherhood and failures and the lingering loss of war/shinobi life.
Putting it under the cut just in case tw pregnancy, miscarriage/still birth?, Death, grief
Akami sustained a pretty severe injury in the field as a teen (Danzo’s failed assassination attempt) she managed to drag herself home, but was forced to very poorly patch the wound herself with fire and ice. As a result was told she couldn’t have kids—she was young at the time and so focused on Anbu it never bothered her.
Sasuke changes things, and after 4 years of domestic bliss miraculously she finds herself pregnant—she has lots of conflicting feelings about it, considering both sasuke/kakashi’s thoughts and making them worse in her mind. Akami's relationship with her own mother had always been strained--feeling unloved and unwanted by Umiko.
They eventually decide to go for it—though she makes it rather far along, it doesn’t last due to her old injury. It nearly kills her.
So does the loss, not only because of the death but because of her self-perceived failures and inability to create life. She feels more like a monster than ever, because all she’ll ever be good for is death and decay. She feels rotten from the inside out.
It strains her relationship with both Kakashi and Sasuke, not because of the loss but because of her anger, shutting down and shutting them out.
If you made it this far sorry ik it's a lot haha😅I have a lot written for it, idk how it happened sort of just spiraled from me one day—I feel like it might be too much, so not sure if it’ll ever make it to the long fic, but I find myself thinking about it often, and adding more to it often—probably b/c of my own confusing thoughts on motherhood.
When Zuko and Katara finally did make love, they found such enjoyment in each other that it became a regular occurrence, and eventually Lu Ten’s teasing came to fruition. Katara became pregnant with their first child about a year after they were married. Yue had given birth to their daughter, who because she was a girl had been given the Water Tribe name Lasuh, and learned she was pregnant again around the same time Katara realized she was pregnant.
Katara was glad to go through her pregnancy in tandem with Yue. They’d grown close over the past year, to the point that Yue had asked her to assist in Lasuh’s birth despite the Fire Nation healer’s protests. It was just as well that she had; Lasuh had been born with fluid in her lungs that Katara had carefully been able to draw out with waterbending, saving the child from early breathing trouble. Lu Ten had tried to gift Katara handsomely, but she’d refused. Instead he made Katara the child’s godmother, legally making her regent if something happened to the Fire Lord, his wife, and Lu Ten and Yue.
“Do you really think the Fire Nation would accept a female non-bender as Fire Lord?” Katara asked Zuko once the servant she’d given the signed paperwork to departed to have it filed.
“Anything’s possible,” Zuko said, shrugging. “They accepted a Water Tribe woman as Crown Princess and adore her. Who’s to say they wouldn’t accept her daughter?”
To complete Katara and Yue's tandem pregnancy, they went into labor on the same day, unfortunately keeping Katara from helping with delivering Yue’s second child. Because she’d already had a child, Yue’s baby was born first: a healthy boy they named Shuzok.
Katara’s labor took over a day, and was not without struggle. The baby had somehow flipped the wrong way, necessitating professional intervention, and when the child finally was born it had the same problem Lasuh had had, but was more severe. It took a combination of Katara’s exhausted bending and the healer’s efforts to remove the fluid and allow the child to breathe and give a strong, healthy cry. As soon as their baby cried Katara collapsed, completely exhausted, and fell asleep.
Zuko took the baby from the healers once it was washed and wrapped, and was told it was a boy before the healers returned to Katara. He went to the window of the room, showing his son the light and contemplating names for him.
It took Katara about ten hours to wake up. As soon as she did she was alert, asking for the baby. Zuko, who hadn’t left her side but had fallen asleep, jerked to awareness and turned to the bassinet he’d placed the baby in. He gently scooped up their child and put it into Katara’s arms. She unwrapped the infant’s upper half and laid him against her chest, whispering something about skin-to-skin contact into his lightly spattered hair.
“What do you want to name him?” Zuko asked, moving his chair to be closer to his family.
“We have to give him a Fire Nation name?”
He nodded.
“Do you have any ideas?”
“I thought of Chauzu and Ozuno,” he offered.
Katara repeated the names as though she were tasting them, and looked down at their child.
“Ozuno,” she said firmly.
“Ozuno,” Zuko agreed.
Katara gave birth to two more children in the next decade. Four years after Ozuno was born, she and Zuko had a baby girl that they named after Katara’s mother: Kya. Three years after that they had another son, to whom they gave the second name Zuko had chosen: Chauzu.
Zuko wasn’t surprised to find that Katara refused most of the royal family’s customs for raising children. They weren’t closely in line for the throne, so she was allowed to do as she pleased. This meant the children sleeping in their room with them until they became a certain age, as well as her breastfeeding them herself instead of giving them to a nurse. She also took charge of their early education, asking Zuko to help her teach them traditional Fire Nation and the country’s history. Every summer they visited the Southern Water Tribe for two months, and their children grew up knowing they weren’t just Fire Nation royalty, they were also Water Tribesmen.
“You get along so well with Sokka and the other men, you’d make a good member of the tribe,” Katara teased him after he and Ozuno returned from his first hunt with the men.
“Maybe in another life,” Zuko said, smiling and sending Ozuno to bed. “But for now I like this one just fine.”
That wasn’t what Gem expected to be the first words out of Sam’s mouth when he sat down across from him at Abracadabra during prison hours.
Gem silently held out his phone, laying it flat on the table between them. (He knew the rules; no touching.) He put it on the album that he had of Vivi and let it start playing.
Sam was absorbed in the photos, which gave Gem a chance to look him over. Was he skinnier than when Gem had seen him last? Was he eating? Was he getting bullied? Or did he not need Gem at all?
There was a part of him that wanted to apologize for not having written. Or come to see him, though, at least that, he probably figured Sam understood. Just being back here, even as a visitor, made Gem sweaty, his heart beating unsteadily. He felt nauseous and a little panicked. Even if, rationally, he knew that both Belle and Snow were waiting for him on the mainland.
(Snow had very much wanted to come. Gem had very much told her under no circumstances was that going to happen. And not just because…he never wanted her to come to this place, but it made Magicks sick. And considering what happened to her normally when magic went wonky, and the fact she was pregnant—he wasn’t taking any chances.)
If he didn’t turn back up by the time visitor hours were over, the two of them would come looking for him.
He knew that. But still, in these solid, cement walls, oppressively hot in the sweltering summer heat wave, it was like the outside world didn’t exist. The doors had been locked behind him and they would only open up when visitor hours were over. When he was ready to leave.
Maybe.
Unless they hauled him off on some ridiculous charge. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or he could get jumped by some MAFIA faction that paid off the guards.
“She looks good,” Sam said and Gem snapped back to the present.
