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#before my shift tomorrow where i walk around and climb six flights of stairs every half hour for twelve hours rip
caffeineforbucky · 3 years
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As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)
Post-blip (five or six months later)
A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!
Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)
Word count: 2,760
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader
Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...
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The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.
You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.
Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.
"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.
"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.
But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.
You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.
As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"
"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.
You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.
"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.
You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.
"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."
You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.
"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"
You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.
The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."
"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."
You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"
With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.
You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.
"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.
You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.
"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.
You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.
"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"
"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"
"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.
"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.
He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.
"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.
Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.
You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.
"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."
"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.
You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Bug?"
Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.
"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."
"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."
You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.
"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."
You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.
"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.
You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"
"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."
"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."
"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."
"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."
"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.
"I need your help, Y/N."
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thesameasbe4 · 3 years
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Harry in London
*Loosely inspired by the British Miniseries The Bodyguard. Cameo appearance by Richard Madden’s streak of gray hair. Explicit language and some sexual references. 
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We had passed each other many many times. I think I even spoke a few brief words to him here and there, polite greetings and the like. In this way it was strange then to feel like I had seen him for the first time. “Sarge,” I had heard some of the other security call him. I wasn’t particularly familiar with British Policing but he did seem to be the one that others reported to on our security detail even though he worked along side them.
I was uncomfortable with the idea of personal security at first, unsure why an international consort of social welfare experts needed such a thing, until we encountered our first protest. It turned out that almost every political platform could find a reason to disagree with this initiative. There were complaints about taking British social practicum into the international sphere, disagreements about our inclusion of family planning and safeguards sensitive to immigrant welfare. The list never stopped. A few weeks into our stay we learned that there were also death threats targeted at several of us individually. That was when I first officially met Sergeant Collins. They started the day off by pairing each of us with a personal protection officer who, from that time forward, would be with us from the moment we stepped out of our residences till we returned there in the evenings. The Sergeant had stepped toward me, introducing himself and I did the same in return, putting on a display of politeness but distracted by the work we had yet to do that day.
At lunch, I dragged myself down to the lower floor courtyard, a paper cup of coffee steaming in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. I lowered myself to the ground against the wall, sloshing coffee over my fingers. “Fuck,” I muttered, remembering suddenly that I had a horrid headache. I set the cup down on my right side and tossed the pack of cigarettes down next to them. I wiped my stinging hand on the fabric of my black pants and drew my knees up so that I could rest my head on them for a few moments.
“Are you all right Ma’am?” An emotionless voice said. I looked up, startled that I was not alone as I had thought. The sturdy figure of Sergeant Collins stood in the doorway of the courtyard. I took another deep breath, this one a little more exaggerated than the last and rolled my eyes up at him.
“Yes Sergeant, I’m fine thanks. It’s just been a long day, and it’s not nearly over, ” I said on an exhale. I brought the cup of coffee to my lips and took a heavenly sip of the dark brown liquid. I had the forethought to pack my old dorm coffee pot from so many years ago, anticipating a lack of American style coffee in work spaces, and I had been right. Tea and instant coffee would not get me through these high stress days, and so I brought my own solution, something I was well known for and one of the reasons I had the honor of serving on this initiative. Though I did receive my fair share of ribbing based on my very Southern American preference for black drip coffee.
“Are you allowed to sit while on duty Sergeant?” I asked, inviting him to join me with a nod of my head.
“Sometimes, Ma’am, if it’s appropriate.”
“What would make this an appropriate time for you to sit next to me?” I asked taking another sip of coffee.
“Well Ma’am, firstly if I’m not interfering with your work duties or personal wishes, and secondly if it is advantageous or inconsequential to your physical safety.” I had never heard him string that many words together, and I was startled by the brusk Scottish tone of his voice.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well we are still within a secure government building and I am inviting you to join me because it’s weird for you to stand over me. Is that sufficient reason for you to join me?”
Interestingly, he cracked a smile at me and then took a few measured steps toward me and lowered himself to the ground. I noticed the special care he took in making sure his fire arm was still safely holstered in the belt at his waist. He kept a professional distance between us, but it was the closest we had ever been to one another besides the few times he held car doors open for me.
I studied his form. From far away all of the PPOs looked put together and slick, but up close he looked uncomfortable and lumpy. He wore a well tailored suit, but there was an intercom wire attached to his collar and threaded down the back of his shirt and clipped onto his trousers. He also had an ear piece in the left ear, which was closest to me. His chest was unusually stiff and wide, which led me to assume he had a bullet proof vest under his crisp white collared shirt.
“Want a smoke? I asked, offering him the pack.” He shook his head.
“No thank you, Ma’am.” So I dropped the pack again. Instead I held out my hand to him.
“Lucy, I’d rather you call me Lucy, at least when we are alone,” I said to him. Hesitating only for a moment, he took the hand I offered and shook it twice firmly.
“Harry,” he replied. Our movements stirred the air just a bit and the faintly masculine scent of old spice teased my nostrils. I turned to face forward again so that I wouldn’t stare too hard at him. I had assumed that he was middle aged because he was the Sergeant, but up close he appeared to be in his early thirties. “Don’t let me interrupt you Ma’am, go and have your smoke.”
“I don’t smoke,” I replied and we both fell silent.
Finishing my cup of coffee, I rose and dusted myself off as I waited for Sergeant Collins to check the door and open it for me.
The day faded to late afternoon and then into early evening. Much of the day had been set aside for meetings and I was throughly spent. Our final decisions were made for the day around six and I was already thinking about what I would make for dinner and coaxing myself into believing that I had enough energy for a short workout as well.
As we filed out of the conference room I sought the dark shape of Sergeant Collins amidst the line up of PPOs. He nodded to me and stayed where he was, patiently waiting for the halls to clear before moving toward me.
“You mind if we take the stairs instead of the lift?” I asked. He spoke a few words into his collar and then waited while I assumed someone was responding through the receiver in his ear. I was about to interject that if it was any trouble we could just take the lift, but he nodded in assent and we headed the opposite way down the hall from the cluster waiting for their turn down to the ground floor.
I was itching to get some of the wiggles out after being seated for so long and I relished the faint strains on my quads as we made our way down the five flights of stairs. It is hard to explain what happened next, my brain recalls only fragments of it at a time. I remember bursting out of the stairwell and into the building lobby slightly out of breath and then being tackled by a huge mass behind me. I hit the ground hard, slamming my jaw on the tile floor and I felt my knee pop. All around me there was a deafening noise and an abrupt wave of heat followed by screams and the hectic whining of the fire alarms.
“Lucy… Lucy!” I heard in my ear, “can you hear me?” I nodded, realizing that the heavy weight on top of me was Sergeant Collins. “Stay here, don’t move at all, I am going to assess the situation and then come back for you. I won’t be long.” I felt the weight shift and then lighten as he rolled off of me and staggered to his feet.
I stayed there, inhaling thick smoke, systematically wiggling each of my body parts. As far as I could tell I was in one piece.
A few moments later a strong hand reached down and grabbed my arm. Startled, I tried to wriggle out of the grip. “It’s me Ma’am,” Harrys voice cut through the smoke and alarm bells. “Come, there is a car waiting out the back entrance. Can you stand?” I scrambled to my feet, wincing at a sharp pain in my knee but gritted my teeth and allowed the Sergeant to guide me back into the stairwell and through a series of emergency exit doors. Hesitating just inside the final door, Sgt. Collins spoke into his collar, waiting for some kind of signal before he stepped out into the fresh air. From my vantage point behind the Sergeant I was still able to see a black SUV pull up and brake hard a few meters away from our exit. As it halted abruptly, the back door swung open and another PPO got out and made a signal in our direction. Sgt. Collins gripped my arm and ushered me out into the cool air. We walked quickly to the vehicle and I climbed in, Sargent Collins following me into the back seat.
“Ma’am,” a sturdy female voice caught my attention from the driver seat, “have you any need for emergency medical assistance?” I blinked a few times, unsure of what to say.
“Um, I don’t think so. I’m a little battered but I don’t think I’ve got anything major thats wrong.”
“In that case, we will drop you off at your safe house. A detail has been sent to screen your belongings for hazards and then they will be brought to you at your new location.” I nodded, unsure of how one was supposed to react in a situation like this. “Sometimes you don't notice you are hurt until the shock wears off,” she continued, “Sergeant Collins has the appropriate training to treat any minor injuries you may discover you have and a trip to the doctor can be arranged for tonight or tomorrow if that becomes necessary.”
The rest of the ride was quiet. I had no idea where we were, although I was still unfamiliar with London in general. Finally the vehicle glided to a stop and Sgt. Collins stepped out and held the door for me. It was now too dark to see anything and there were no lights on the outside of house, just the headlights from the SUV. Collins stopped me at the front door and he proceeded to check each room, shouting “clear,” as he finished his inspection of each one. Finally he returned to the front door. “Ma’am, it is safe for you to go in now. I will be waiting here with you at least for the time being. Would you prefer it if we arranged for a female officer to stay with you over night?”
“Um, no, I trust you, it is fine, I just want to be as little trouble as I can,” I replied hearing an unfamiliar tremor in my voice. Sergeant moved aside, allowing me access to the interior of the house. I wandered through the little rooms without much purpose while the two PPOs spoke quietly to each other on the front stoop.
I managed to find a few light switches and flipped them on. There was a kitchen and dining room all in one with a sitting area just beyond and a short hallway that  I gathered led to a bedroom. I went to the dining table and pulled out a wooden chair and sat down. In the light I noticed that I had little scratches all over my arms and my  clothes had small holes in them. There wasn’t a lot of blood but there was enough that I felt my hands tremble as I felt around, trying to locate the source of it.
I didn’t notice that Harry had come into the house till he pulled out a second dining chair and sat across from me. His clothes were torn similarly to mine, and I could see that he had a nice sized cut on his eyebrow. “You’ve got a few cuts on your face,” he said to me. “May I bandage them?”
“What happened?” I asked, ignoring his question.
He sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Someone detonated a bomb.” Pausing, he looked at me, waiting for my response. I had assumed as much, I mean, I had heard it, felt the blast, if just the very outer bit. So I returned his gaze, though I suspected my eyes were a bit harder than his. “I don’t have many details, I expect you will be debriefed in the morning.” He sat back, sighing.
“What do you think though?” I asked. He shifted, pulling at his shirt like he was just noticing the warmth of the room.
“I can’t confir-“
“I know,” I cut him off, “but what do you think?”
He was silent for a moment, meeting my cold stare again before he finally replied. “I think if they wanted all of you dead you would be.” He stood and turned his back on me, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of brown liquid. From the drying rack he took two glasses and poured a little liquid into each of them. “This was hate mail, not attempted assassination.” He placed a glass on the table in front of me. I picked it up gingerly, half expecting it to blow up in my face as well.
“So what happens next?” I asked quietly. The Sergeant let out a sigh and met my gaze as he downed the contents of his glass. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I did the same.
We remained silent as he then proceeded to inspect my injuries. Though I insisted I was uninjured, as my shock faded, it was replaced by a dull ache in my jaw and a sharp pain in my knee any time I tried to put weight on it. He stuck a few bandaids on my face and gave me some paracetamol which I washed down with another shot of whiskey. He showed me the bathroom and the spare clothes already laid out in the bedroom.
“What about you?” I asked stopping him in the doorway of the small bathroom.
“Ma’am?”
“Lucy, please,” I said without thinking. He looked straight ahead, just over my hairline, as if that mask of professionalism would erase the intimacy of our now entangled reality. “You are bleeding, may I clean your cuts?” I stared at his face, willing him to look at me. Finally he looked down and met my gaze, his eyes softened.
“Thank you, Lucy.” So we returned to the kitchen where the first aid kit still lay open on the table. He sat down as he had before and I fumbled with an alcohol swab determined to stop my hands from shaking. I could feel him watching me and my frustration grew as hot wet tears squeezed out of my eyes unbidden and unnecessary.
And then his warm hands were covering mine, stilling them. His touch calmed me and I drew in a slow breath. I remembered how far from home I was, how alone, only working and working.
My gaze settled again on the Sergeant, who, I noticed, was still wearing his suit jacket which was badly shredded, since he had weathered most of the impact from the explosion.
“You don’t know me,” I said, my brow creasing as I dabbed at a cut on his forehead.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“Why would you put your life in danger for someone you don’t know?”
“It’s my job.”
“But what about your family?”
“I don’t have any.” I paused my barrage of questions.
“But what if I’m a bad person, you don’t know me. Why would you risk your life for someone you don’t know?”
“It’s my job.”
The tears were flowing freely down my cheeks now. “And if someone was shooting at me, what would you do?”
“I would move you out of the line of fire, using my own body if I had to.”
I let out a sob and I sank to my knees on the ground, he followed. Blinded by the moisture in my eyes I grappled with his jacket, trying to tear it off. “I want to see it,” I spat through my soggy tears. “Let me see your vest.” He had been trying to still my hands, but at this demand he released my wrists and helped me pull off his jacket and held still while I fought with the buttons on his well tailored but now ragged shirt. Finally they were all undone and I couldn’t really recall what it was that I had intended to do, so I placed my hands on the hard surface of his ballistic vest.  It was white and started high up on his chest. I started there, running my fingers over the top seam of the thick material, then I followed it out, to where it ended on his taught shoulder muscles, and then tapered down just below the bottom of his rib cage. I circled my arms around him so that I could feel the back side of it as well. Realizing that I was looking for punctures in the material. I found what I had been dreading close to his left shoulder blade, a shard of glass dug in deep. I pulled and pulled but it wouldn’t come out. Finally I felt his body resisting me and I sat back on my knees.
Not breaking eye contact with me he undid the velcro under each arm and lifted the vest over his head.
I jumped at the knock on the door. “Stay here Ma’am.” Harry said, resuming his professional tone, despite being dressed in only an undershirt and his slacks.
It was the other PPO from earlier arrived with a medic who checked the work that Harry had done on me, providing a knee brace that I should wear when I needed to move around. After that I excused myself and took a long hot shower.
I awoke slowly the next morning, my mind fuzzy and my body sore. Shifting uncomfortably in an unfamiliar bed, I slowly recalled the events of the night before. Eventually I thought to check the time but could not locate my phone anywhere. Easing out of bed I searched the unfamiliar room but to no avail. I thought it might be in the kitchen where we had first sat upon arriving, I made for the door but realized just in time that I was dressed only in a large t shirt, no pants and no bra. Turning to face the room again, I saw only my clothes from the night previously strewn about the floor, which were in tatters and covered in blood.
I saw a towel draped over a chair so I grabbed it and wrapped it around me. Tiptoeing down the hall, I made my way to the living room area. Harry was sitting in a lounge chair, looking not at all relaxed as he stared at a tv screen showing footage of a building up in flames. Fascinated by the violence of the black smoke and the red fire, I moved closer. “God, is the building even still standing?” I muttered, and was surprised at how quickly he stood and turned around. I must have been quite a sight, because he relaxed when he saw me standing there pitifully wrapped in a towel still damp from the night before.
“Good Morning,” he said. “Your things were delivered earlier this morning. They are in the kitchen.” I swiveled to see three half full black garbage bags sitting on the kitchen floor. I moved towards them. “You may want to put on something comfortable,” he said to my back, “you can’t go in to work today.” I gave him no sign I had heard what he said, but I rummaged through my now rumpled clothes and came out with a pair of dark wash jeans and a light knit sweater.
I returned to the bedroom to make myself presentable. I peered into the floor length mirror and frowned. The left side of my face looked like I had been sprayed with brown paint from the micro cuts that had sliced into my skin. I also had a growing dark splotch under my right eye which I expected would bloom into a full on shiner by the end of the day. My shoulder length black hair was frizzy and knotted, but I didn’t know where my brush was so I ran my fingers through it a few times before giving up, not wanting to look at my damaged face anymore.
Harry had said I couldn’t go to work today, so I suspected the next best thing to do was to make coffee. I nosed around in the kitchen, unsurprised to find that there was no coffee maker, just a kettle and a half of a tin of brittle brown pebbles. Happy to grumble about something normal, I set the kettle to boil and located the cupboard of mugs. As I waited I recalled that I had originally come out to look for my phone.
“Sergeant, have you seen my phone lying anywhere? I’m not sure what happened to it last night.” There was a sound of old creaking wood as he rose from his position in front of the news and joined me in the small kitchen area. We each retraced our movements the night before but to no avail. During our search I couldn’t help but notice again his various scrapes and bruises. There was a long gash that went up into his hairline as well as some of the smattering of tiny cuts that I had on my face, but his were thicker and though his new crisp white collared shirt obscured his torso, I guessed that they continued down his arms and neck.
“Its likely it didn’t make it out of the building,” he said. We discussed this possibility and I realized that if my phone didn’t make it out, neither did my wallet or passport. After a number of expletives on my part, he excused himself to make a call.
The kettle boiled while he was out and so I poured out two steaming cup fulls of hot water. In one I spooned a few sad lumps of brown instant coffee and in the other I plopped a tea bag, a drop of milk and one sugar.
“Okay,” he said, reentering the house and bolting the door behind him. “Here’s the plan, someone will be brought over from the American embassy to take some information from you and they will hopefully be able to get you a new passport by the end of the week. My colleague from last night, will also be returning to take our statements about the events yesterday.” I nodded and handed him the mug of tea. He took it from me with a lift of his eyebrow and brought it close, as if inspecting it. Then he sipped it, his face changing to amusement. “How did you know how to fix my tea?” He asked.
I just shrugged, “What? You think you are the only one who notices details? I’ve got nothing better to pay attention to during all those long winded meetings than what happens at the tea station.” I sipped the dark sludge in my cup.
He nodded as he took another sip.
The embassy clerk came first, looking a bit wide eyed at the two of us, reminding me again how close we had come to death. I gave him all the information I had and we coordinated for the rest of it to be sent to the embassy from the United States. The fidgety man assured me that it would all be processed as quickly as possible and that I should expect new papers by Friday. I stood to shake his hand and then Sgt. Collins showed him out and watched the armored vehicle leave.
The other PPOs arrived not long after, bringing gifts. The woman PPO who had driven us here the night before, Davis, I think was her name, arrived with large cups of real coffee and a bag of groceries, on the very top of which was a box of croissants. She set it all down on the table and slid a coffee over to me as well as a croissant. I ate and she and Sergeant chatted for a while till I was done. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, she turned to me and laid out the situation as they understood it to this point.
I was the only international on the task force that had not been hospitalized, likely because they had targeted a spot close to the elevator, not the stairwell. One of my colleagues was in critical condition but stable and all the others were suffering from topical injuries such as burns and shrapnel and all were expected to recover. I was to continue to remain in this safe house for several more days as an investigation took place. Sergeant Collins would remain as my PPO as long as I was comfortable with that. A new cell phone and any other equipment I would require would be provided to me.
I gave her my statement and Sgt. Collins retreated outside with her for quite a while. While they were away I dug into the bag she had brought. There were a few groceries as well as a chocolate bar, a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes. I studied the box of smokes, curious about why she had thought to include them.
It had been a while since I had done absolutely nothing. Idleness never looked good on me. I had picked over the sparse book shelf several times already that morning, finding only two novels that looked palatable, only to discover they were too smutty to stomach in my current state of emotional and physical frailty. I had unpacked my things in the small bedroom at the back of the house and then reorganized them.
Mid-afternoon, a gentle rain settled over the house and I finally sunk into a chair in the kitchen. My knee was throbbing so I hobbled to the freezer and found a pack of frozen mixed vegetables that I laid on my knee. The PPO agent had offered to get me set up to work from this location immediately but warned that no one else was up to it, so I told her to get me connected whenever the rest were healthy enough to begin working again. Sergeant had left for a few hours earlier and Davis remained in his place. He had returned with a neat little overnight bag hanging from his shoulder. The rest of the time he either lingered next to the door, muttering into his earpiece or he would pace in a loop around the kitchen and living room. He didn’t speak to me really, but now in this small space together, it was hard to ignore him. And it felt silly.
“Are you allowed to sleep while you are on this assignment Sergeant?” I inquired when I finally couldn’t take the pacing any longer.
“Of course Ma’am,” he replied, turning to give me his full attention.
I nodded, “Then is there a second room for you somewhere that I missed?”
Resuming his mantle of professionalism, he raised his gaze to just above my hairline, “no Ma’am, we did not have a house available at this time that is more suitable to the situation.” He didn’t answer the question.
“So where do you sleep?”
Still gazing beyond my head, “On the couch Ma’am.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “I know you will refuse, but I just want you to know that I would gladly give up the room for you.”
“Thank you Ma’am, thats very kind.”
“I mean, you did all the hard work, you did your job for sure, kept me safe, had to react under severe stress…” My words faded away, I wasn’t communicating what I was trying to. Sergeant remained standing at attention as I floundered to gather my thoughts. “Why did officer Davis bring a pack of cigarettes if neither of us smokes?” I blurted finally.
Sergeant Collins raised that one eyebrow again and if I wasn’t mistaken, a faint look of amusement settled on his face. “Ma’am, she brought them because you have led everyone to believe that you are a smoker.” I continued to look at him quizzically, so he continued, “When I was first assigned to you I was briefed that you took up to four smoke breaks a day.”
“Oh right,” I had discovered within the first week of working in London that only the smokers ever actually got fresh air during the day, everyone else took their lunches and breaks in sad corners of the break rooms or at their desks. So I had walked down to a corner store and purchased a pack of cigarettes, and like magic, any time I wished to be left alone, I would grab it and make my way to the courtyard. The Sergeant was the only person who knew I never actually smoked any of the cigarettes. I lifted the pack off of the table, “Any chance I can scoot out the back while I smoke one of these?” I swear, I could hear him itching to roll his eyes, but he gamely refrained.
“Of corse, Ma’am.” So he did a quick sweep of the fenced in garden at the back door and then stood aside to let me out. It was still gently sprinkling but I was happy for it. The back stoop was covered so I sat there, rubbing my hands up and down my arms, having forgotten that it was late November. This back garden had a lovely peaceful, very English feeling that I hadn’t ever gotten in the flat I was provided in the  center of London. There were some over grown roses climbing up a disheveled trellis in one corner, a few garden chairs and a little table on the other side. Acting on a whim I stood and stretched, reaching my hand out to test the rain. The sky was darkening and the drops grew more frequent. I stepped out from under the back stoop, hobbled to the center of the small yard, feeling the  drops plop onto the back of my neck, I stood there unmoving, waiting for the steady fall of rain to penetrate my clothes and shock my system with their cool wetness.
It felt good on my face, cooling the skin that was scabbing over. As the water ran over me I remembered the weight of my arms, my head, my back and legs. I breathed slowly, aware of the small stream of water running off the tip of my nose. I didn’t hear him move closer, but his warm hand on my shoulder did not make me jump. I noticed he had a days worth of stubble on his cheeks and neck, already obscuring some of the scabbing on his face. And the rain caught and was lost in his dark curly hair, a streak of it already greying on the left side of his head. I had a sudden urge to touch that streak of hair. I wondered what he would do if I did.
“Come inside, Ma’am, you’re getting wet.”
“I prefer it to the heat,” I replied.
“Ma’am, really I insist.”
“I can’t,” I said, exasperated and wanting to be left alone.
“I’m also getting wet Ma’am, please can we go inside.” I tilted my head, gazing at him through the sides of my eyes, enthralled both by his dark silky voice and by what he said. What did he think he knew about me that would make me more inclined to save him discomfort than myself? So I asked him.
“Am I really that persuadable?”
“Sorry, Ma’am?”
“You think I will value your discomfort over what I need?”
“Is that so, Ma’am?” He asked, evading my query with his own. I watched the rain falling heavily on him now. His hair was flattening and streams of water poured off the hems of his jacket. I imagined his shoes were filling with water also.
I sighed, “Fuck, I guess so.” Turning away from him I moved toward the door.
As I reached the cover of the stoop I pulled the now drenched sweater over my head, realizing too late that I was not wearing a shirt underneath. My eyes widened and I glanced at the Sergeant who was behind me. At my look he turned around quickly, allowing me a moment of privacy to right myself. I rung my sweater out and bounded inside the little house, closing and locking the door to the bedroom, which I was now ashamed to have since I knew the Sergeant was confined to the couch.
I took my time slipping into some stretchy leggings and a loose fitting shirt. I noticed in the long mirror that my hurt knee was much larger than the other one and I winced as I pressed on it. I hobbled back down the hallway, intent on the bottle of paracetamol in the kitchen. Rounding the corner my eyes were arrested by the half naked figure standing in the living room. I stepped back into the hallway quickly, not wanting another awkward encounter with Harry, but it was too late, he had already heard me and turned to look at me.
“Apologies, Ma��am, I thought you would be in there a while.”
“Oh, no,” I said hurriedly, my voice too high, “This is your space, after all. I should have given you more warning.”
“Not at all Ma’am,” he replied stiffly as he pulled a tight shirt over his head, obscuring his torso. But he wasn’t fast enough to keep me from noticing the marks and scars all over his back. I hadn’t looked very hard, but while some appeared to be from our recent bombing, others looked like long healed scars from some other event in his life. My gaze slipped to the kitchen as the kettle whistled.
“Ah, I was making tea,” he said, walking over to the stove and cutting the fire. “Fancy a cuppa?” He asked, already filling two mugs with steaming water. I joined him in the kitchen, sitting with my aching knee propped up on a second chair. “How do you take it?”
“Just milk.” I said, gritting my teeth as I massaged my knee gingerly. He placed the cup in front of me and remained leaning against the counter top.
“May I check it?” He asked, nodding at my swollen knee. I nodded in unperturbed assent. He swiftly but carefully lifted my leg high enough that he could slip into the chair I had propped it on. He sat so that my calf way strewn across his lap. I quieted my breathing as he poked and prodded at my poor knee.
“What are you looking for?” I asked in a gasp, realizing I hadn’t been breathing.
“I’m just checking again to make sure there are no obvious fractures or a dislocation.”
“Do you think I need to see a doctor?”
“I am going to schedule an appointment for tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your suit,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Not at all, Ma’am, it’s my job.”
“Please call me Lucy,” I said. He opened his mouth to respond so I cut him off quickly, “I mean you saved me from a fucking bomb, you’ve at least earned that. It’s so weird you have to call the people you guard Sir and Ma’am, I’m not your boss, just the pathetic person who can’t look after herself.”
He was outright smiling now. “Well Lucy, I have no doubt you can look after yourself, I’m here so that you can focus on other things the rest of us aren’t bright enough to deal with.” I was transfixed by the hollow of his collar bone, the way the skin over it stretched when he breathed and spoke. And his hands were still on my leg, one of them on the rounded part of my calf, the other just barely above my knee. “And while I officially have no opinion on the matter,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I appreciate your American sense of earning respect rather than inheriting it, something the Scots and the Yanks have in common.”
His hands moved over my leg, a non invasive gesture meant to be reassuring but the touch made my stomach flip. We sat amicably like this for a while, sipping tea and listening to light rain hitting the low roof of the house.
“Now,” Harry continued, “shall we take another smoke break?” The sun had sunk low in the sky and the light appeared orange in the still cloud filled sky.
“Sure, but only if you promise not to follow me into the rain this time,” I made a funny noise as I hoisted myself into a standing position.
“I can’t do that Lucy.”
“Then I guess we are both lucky it has stopped raining.”
This time we sat closer together, squeezed beside one another on a single step of the back stoop, taking in the bright cool air the rain had pushed in. Harry had given me more paracetamol by orders of the doctor I was to see the next morning and it was making me a bit drowsy. I yawned and felt my body lean into Harry’s sturdy form.
“Shall we go back inside?” He whispered, I grunted in the negative. Now only half conscious, I thought I felt a rumbling laughter in his chest and then an arm slip behind me as my muscles loosened and relaxed.
And then I was floating, my feet weren’t moving but I was gliding down the hallway to the bedroom. I opened my eyes and looked up to see Harrys stubbly jaw looming over me. Was he carrying me? I didn’t want to throw his balance so I remained still as he negotiated the door gracefully and laid me out on the edge of the bed. As he leaned over me, I reached up and grabbed a handful of his stretchy shirt material. He hovered above me, waiting patiently.
“Stay,” I whispered. To which he shook his head and began to pull away. So I pulled again and he let me, remaining suspended above me.
“You know I can’t,” he said.
“I just don’t think I can stand to be alone right now. Please stay.” The words were difficult for me and I avoided his gaze. He sighed heavily. I sat up slowly, still groggy, “you said you would follow me into the rain.” My hand bunched tighter into his shirt, dreading the moment he would move away from me.
He sighed one last time then knelt down, removing his shoes with a resigned expression. Straightening again he sent me a defeated look. Then gracefully, he climbed over me and gingerly laid in the center of the bed, leaving a wide gap between us. We laid on our sides facing each other, his head at the height of my shoulders. Again I had the urge to stroke that streak of grey in his hair, and so I did. Tenderly, Harry ran his hand along the silhouette of my body, starting at my ear and moving down to my shoulder and side and finally stopping on my hip.
We were magnetic as we moved closer to each other. I pulled his head into the safety of my chest, his stubble a raspy comfort against my skin and our legs entangled. In silence we lay there, feeling each other breathe. We may have fallen asleep though the line between consciousness and unconsciousness was not immediately apparent. After a long while he stirred and rolled off the far side of the bed, making his way to the toilet.
When he returned he paused and removed his shirt, letting it fall to the ground before again joining me. As he lay back down I shifted, laying my head on his torso. He was very warm and I put my ear to his chest, listening for all the sounds a body makes as it works to keep living. “Am I hurting you?” I asked quietly.
“No,” he whispered, running his hands down my body again till they found my bottom. I propped myself up above him on my elbows, caressing the recent bruises and wounds, tenderly tracing the old scars.
“Tell me about Scotland,” I said.
“Hmm, what do you want to know about Scotland?” He returned.
“Only the good bits,” I said. He smiled gently as he coaxed my good leg up, bending it around his hip in a sort of half straddle and I lowered myself again to his chest. I listened to his stories about a lush green land of great promise and adventure as the words carelessly rumbled out of him.
I hadn’t expected to be so jumpy when I got in the security vehicle. I got in and slid to the very center seat, a hand planted firmly on each side of me. I stared straight ahead the whole time, ignoring the dizziness from the sharp turns.
The consult from the doctor confirmed there was nothing broken, but the hard fall had slightly dislocated my knee which was promptly reset and I was warned that it would take several weeks to heal. I was sent home with a heavier brace and instructions to take over the counter pain meds for swelling.
We returned to the house and were met with a second security detail that had come with equipment for me to work remotely. I dove into it with manic energy. Indeed there was little that could be done as the other internationals were still recovering from burn trauma. So I prepped all the materials I could think of that we would need in order to resume our work. Harry placed a cup of tea next to me which I drank, but I ignored the lunch delivery, feeling like my eyes and hands could not keep up with the speed at which my brain was moving.
“Ma’am,” I heard someone say from far away. “Lucy,” who was that? “Lucy!” I flinched when Harry’s hand touched my shoulder. “Perhaps you might take a break now, you haven’t eaten at all today.”
“No, no I have to get this done,” I replied, turning back to the computer.
“It is common to feel strong bursts of energy and fatigue after an event like the bombing,” he continued.
“Really?” I continued to stab at the keyboard. “Then I guess I’m fine, if this is a common reaction.”
“It’s common, it’s not fine.”
I slammed the laptop shut, pushing the heels of my hands into my temples, God my head hurt. My chest heaved with sobs. I felt him move closer but I needed air, space, I lashed out, feeling my hand connect with his ballistic vest.
I took off down the hall toward the bathroom, seeking a place he couldn’t follow me. But he caught up with me, securing his arms around my shoulders, immobilizing my arms. I continued to sob for several minutes. He continued to hold me like this till I quieted and stopped fighting and sagged weakly against him.
“What do you say we get some food and water in you now?” I nodded and we returned to the kitchen. I ate ravenously, with Harry looking on like a cafeteria lady from grade school, making sure I ate all my greens.
“Why do I still feel out of control?” I asked, “Why can’t I just move on?”
“Well it hasn’t been that long, barely two days. If anything I’d say your actions today are very much fitting with the magnitude of the event. In fact you probably deserve a few more temper tantrums.” He looked at me and valiantly fought off a smile. I stabbed a tomato with my fork and pouted, not quit ready for joking yet.
I narrowed my eyes at him thoughtfully. “Clearly you have been in situations like this before.”
“Clearly,” he repeated back.
“So when should I expect you to throw a tantrum?”
“Probably not this time, but I have before.”
“Why is this not hard for you?”
He sighed, “in my perspective, we did it, we survived. That’s not always the case. I did my job well and I am continuing to keep you safe.” He leaned over and touched my hand. “It’s a win.” He leaned back in his chair.
I stood abruptly, taking the few steps to where he sat. He didn’t move, just looked at me, challenging me. I moved even closer, my legs now straddling his lap. I thought he would again assume that distant look and excuse himself, but instead his hands reached up, urging me down closer to him. I sat, wrapping my arms around his neck and he brought his head close to mine, our foreheads touching.
“I don’t think this is keeping you safe,” he murmured to me.
“It’s hard to tell what is safe,” I mumbled.
“So for now all we can do is react.” I made a noise of agreement as our lips connected. We pulled each other in closer, unable to touch enough, to feel enough. His lips were searching and needy. Never had I needed to be touched so badly. I wanted to be shielded by him and yet I wanted to draw him in tighter, protecting him from the dangers he saw every day.
His lips moved lower, caressing my neck and collar bone as I wrestled his jacket and shirt off his body. I kept removing layers till there were no more to remove. He responded in kind, lifting my shirt over my head then drawing me close to him in a warm embrace, like he wanted to cover me completely. “Harry,” I whispered after several long seconds. Then again, “Harry,” and he responded.
“Lucy.”
Pulling out of his arms, I stood and stepped away. “I want this, I want you, and I don’t want either of us to have regrets.”
He rose out of his chair gracefully, stepping close to me. “I cannot regret any time with you.”
“And tomorrow? In a week? When I have finished this job?” I gulped, bile rising in my stomach just thinking about leaving.
“I don’t think I can let you go.”
“Will you take me to Scotland?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around his waist. He leaned his forehead against mine, “Only if you let me stand in the rain with you.”
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crewhonk · 5 years
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Only Happy Accidents (six)
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Summary: YN and Steve deal with YN’s second trimester hormones, YN goes wedding dress shopping, YN buys something for Steve, and Steve thanks her
Warnings: NSFW themes, emotional Girl Squad, Bucky is Tan France
Songs: “Fifteen”— Taylor Swift / “Flight 22” Kali Uchis / “Love Story”— Taylor Swift
Masterlist
____________________
March 11 / 18th Week
There were few things that were both the middle of something and also favourites. The middle of a dance routine, the middle of a season of construction, the middle of winter, middle school, being the middle child (YN wouldn’t know, she was an only child growing up) and so on so forth. 
However, some middle things were great— the middle of a really good sandwich, the middle of a drunk snuggle pile, the middle of the bed. 
The second trimester rocked YN’s world. The exhaustion, sore boobs, nausea were all ugly memories that both YN and Steve were over the moon to get rid of considering how gross and strong they all were. YN was now enjoying her pregnancy, having gained a few inches around her middle and enjoying the way Steve’s eyes lingered on her swollen (not tender!) boobs whenever she walked past him wearing a blouse for work. Every edge and corner on YN’s body had rounded out and it seemed as if this fat was why Steve was very keen on having both hands on her at all times. His kisses were longer and deeper and YN’s whole body ached whenever she crawled into his lap and kissed him breathless. 
The part YN would need to learn to deal with? The lack of sex in her relationship while she was in fact, very horny. All the time. 
YN decided one afternoon while she was showering for the second time that day (the basement was flooding, thanks increased blood flow) to initiate a plan to get Steve Rogers in bed with her. They hadn’t slept together since Halloween, and even if she weren’t pregnant, YN would very much love to ride that man into the sunset a month and a half into a real not-pregnant-induced relationship. So, she put to work, touching him absently on the couch during movie marathons, nipping his neck while hugging him and humming when she would suck in a breath. She would wear clothes the showed off her stomach and boobs and butt around the house— often skipping the pyjama pants for short maternity shorts under one of his shirts from the dryer. She could hear his appreciative sounds whenever he would wake up to find her in his clothes and making breakfast. 
Steve loved how needy YN had become, as well— almost too much if he were being honest. He felt like a teenage boy again whenever he saw YN trapesing around the house in one of his sweaters— blood rushing from one head to another. He found that YN could get him harder than he had ever been in his life when she got bored of the movie and crawled into his lap, a sexy little smirk on her face as her hands cupped the sides of his neck and she kissed him for hours. His hands had to stop her more than once from wiggling on him because it almost hurt to have her so close but unable to get closer. 
His greatest fear was hurting the baby— or even worse, the baby knowing what his mom and dad were doing. When he voiced this fear to Natasha one day when they were sparring, she lost all composure and roared with laughter as he tripped her. She had rolled onto her side and covered her face with her hands to hide the tears streaming down her face. 
“What’s so funny?” Steve had grumbled and through giggles she replied. 
“Weren’t you like, one of the smartest people in the army in 1940?” She breathed heavily. 
“Yeah, I guess but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Steve, my favourite life partner. Even you, in all your physical enhancements has no chance of hurting the baby. YN’s body has all of the defences that the baby needs, especially your kid. I’m not talking about fucking her through the mattress, but you can have sex with your girlfriend.” She smiled, getting up and patting his shoulder. 
She grabbed a towel and wiped her face, slicking the flyaway hairs from her ponytail back with sweat. “How far along is she?”
“Eighteen or nineteen weeks? I think she’s almost at nineteen.” He replied, taking a swig from his water bottle and her eyes widened. 
“You do know her sex drive is probably through the roof right now, right?” She stated and he choked on his water. 
“What?”
“Yeah, she’s in her second trimester, right? Then yeah— she’s horny as hell.” She shrugged and Steve shifted his weight, swallowing and thinking about his mother so his dick wouldn’t explode spontaneously. 
“I should— I should go, probably.” He mumbled, and Natasha rolled her eyes. 
“Yeah, you probably should. Can you remind YN that we have a dress-fitting tomorrow?” Natasha called after and Steve tripped over his feet when he remembered that he was, in fact, marrying the woman waiting for him at home. 
________________________
He burst through the door, roses in hand (he had barely remembered that today was Valentines Day) and called out for YN.
“Ma?” He asked and the ache between his legs was almost enough tomato his knees shake. There were no lights on, yet, so he wandered through the house and down to her room where he nudged the door open to find her sprawled on the bed. 
Unconscious. 
He chuckled and set the flowers on her bedside table. He looked down at her and cooed, running the backs of his knuckles down her cheek and leaned over to kiss her soundly on the forehead. 
“Stevie?” She mumbled sleepily and turned to him, eyes still closed. He only hummed and kissed her nose again. 
“Get some sleep, Sweetheart.” He murmured and she moaned, rolling over and letting out a small grunt before she fell asleep once more. 
Good thing she was so cute. 
_________________________
March 12th, 19 weeks
There was something wrong. Something very horribly wrong, and YN woke up feeling something in her stomach. Something was wrong, and she couldn’t breathe and she wanted to move but an impossible weight rested on her chest. She struggled to breathe, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the feeling went away but came back once again stronger. 
It was when it came back stronger than she was finally able to throw the blankets from her body and run from the room, hand over her stomach. She tore up the stairs to Steve’s room and didn’t bother to knock before bursting into the room and walking across it to the bed. 
She shook his shoulder and he grumbled, swatting her hand weakly. 
“Steve. Steve, wake up, please.” She half cried and his eyes opened and he rolled over to look up at her. The tears of fear in her eyes waking him up almost immediately. 
“Wassit? Baby? Baby okay? You hurting, Ma?” His voice was thick and husky with sleep and she ignored the way that her core clenched at the low baritone of his voice. This was not the time for that. 
“I don’t— there’s something wrong.” She whimpered and Steve sat up, running his arms over her shoulders and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. She was a little clammy and she was running warm, but that aunt anything new— she had been running hot since she had gotten pregnant. 
“Are you in pain?” He asked and she shook her head. 
“No, it’s like— like flutters? But I can feel something and it’s not right.” She whimpered and took Steve’s hand, pressing it right under her navel. Steve and YN waited for the feeling to happen again and when it did, YN let out a cry. 
“What— I don’t—“ She breathed heavily and Steve looked at her with wide eyes. Neither moved until the fluttering was over and Steve began crying tears of his own. 
“What— why are you?” YN whimpered and Steve surged forward, pushing her to her back on his bed and kissed her. He peppered kisses across her face, and nose and neck through his giggles. 
“You’re so cute.” He whispered, kissing her again and she shoved him off, glowering. 
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Rogers?” She snarled and jumped off the bed, only to be caught by Steve and pulled back on his lap. He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her chest bone, and nosed her collarbone. 
“Put your hand on your stomach. Right where my hand is.” He murmured and she could have slapped him. 
“I already feel it, Rogers. We need to go to Cho.” She moved to get off of him but he caught her again and grabbed her hand. 
“Baby doll, just listen to me and wait.” He whispered and she stared into his eyes and waited until the feeling came back. When it did, YN let out a cry of dear and Steve shushed her with a soothing kiss.
“He moved, YN. That’s our son kicking.” He murmured and she sucked a lungful of air in. 
“She’s moving? Already?” YN whispered and he nodded. 
“Ms. Tyler said that we could expect the baby to move in another few weeks, but I do apparently have super sperm so—“ He shrugged and YN laughed, throwing her head back and then kissing him. Her tongue swiped his lip teasingly and he squeezed her hips happily. She pulled away before he could roll them over and wiped her face. 
“God. Okay. I’m— I’m sorry for waking you up, I was just really scared.” She said, looking rather guilty. 
“I’m your boyfriend. Fiancee, technically, but I’m your person. You come to me when you’re scared and I’ll protect you from the world, okay?” He whispered and she smiled softly, swiping her thumb over his bottom lip and chin softly before moving to climb off of him. 
“I’ll go back to bed then. I’ll text Cho and tell her we’ll drop by when you drop me off for the fitting tomorrow, though.” She said, rubbing her stomach and smiling to herself softly. She stood and turned to walk before Steve gathered his courage and grabbed her hand, pulling her back slightly. She turned with a smile and a raised eyebrow. 
“You okay, Hot Shot?” YN asked and he clenched his jaw nervously. 
“I— you don’t have to go, you know. You can stay the night… here, with me.” He muttered and she felt her face heat up. 
“Really?”
“Really.” He replied, and almost did a small victory dance when she nervously shifted her feet before crawling over him and pulling the blankets back, settling into his mattress and sighing. 
“Your bed is much comfier than mine, you know.” She whispered and he laughed, pulling her so that her back was to him. He curled into her back and nosed at her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and almost melting into the sheets. His strong arm wrapped around her middle and he rested his hand on her stomach, smiling to himself whenever he felt his son jump against his fingers. His slid his thigh between hers and she sighed, wiggling back into him and pulling his other arm to act as a pillow under her head. 
“You don’t have to sleep in the other room, you know. We are dating-engaged-almost-parents.” He murmured and she giggled. 
“How did we even get int his whole situation, huh?” She chuckled and he squeezed her lightly. 
“We like each other and just so happened to forget to use protection.”
“Ah, yes. Halloween— the ultimate aphrodisiac.”
“It was the thigh highs, honestly.”
“Goodnight, Steven.”
“Night, Ma.”
_________________________
March 13th, Week 19
YN was warm. So, pleasantly warm and she never wanted to leave the cocoon she had found herself in. The pillows were soft, and the mattress was the perfect balance between hard and soft and the huge, muscly man pressed to her back made her feel like she could hide from the world for the rest of her life. 
His hot breath washed over the back of her neck and she wiggled in closer to him, willing herself to stay in this moment for a few more hours. 
Until she felt it. 
Steve was fully pressed into her, his morning wood sandwiched snugly between his lower stomach and the small of YN’s back. When YN tried to wiggle her way out, Steve only let out a husky moan and pulled her closer. 
“Stevie.” She tried, tapping his arm. He grunted and nuzzled into her hair, falling still once more. She stared out the window in front of her and sighed, trying to ignore the raging hormones that made her only think about the dick pressed against her and tried to roll away, only to be snatched right back by the still-sleeping Steve. He let out a moan and flexed his hips, rubbing himself against her and she squeaked, the heat between her legs making everything harder. 
Especially the fact that his thigh was pressed right against her vagina. 
His hips rut up again and his thigh pressed harder against her and she let out a small moan, shifting back against him and whimpering when he thrust again. 
Fuck. 
“Steve, baby, wake up.” She whispered, voice strained. She felt his lips press to the back of her neck before he pressed himself harder.
“I’ve been awake for a few minutes, now, Ma.” He husked and she moaned, hand circling back and cupping the back of his neck. He leaned up and nipped her neck, humping his hips again and growling when she bit her lip. 
“Stevie—“ she whimpered and his hand drifted down, scratching her bare thigh and making her shiver. 
“Shh, baby.” He hushed and she flexed her hips against this thigh, making him hum appreciatively. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned, scratching his scalp again. 
“As much as I fucking love what you’re doing right now, we have to go and see Cho.” She whispered and he groaned, squeezing her tighter and biting her shoulder. 
“We have an hour, and it was just the baby moving, he’s fine.” He grumbled and pulled her closer to him, making him groan when his dick rubbed against her. 
“It takes ten minutes for us to get ready and forty minutes to get to the compound, not including traffic. Plus,” She started, turning around in the bed to face him. She had to swallow her resolve when she looked at him however, because his hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown out. “The things I wanna do to you is gonna take much more than an hour to do.” She murmured and his mouth popped open in shock. 
“Yeah?” His voice cracked and she smirked, letting her hand drift down his side and trace the band of his briefs. He shuddered under her touch and she hummed. 
“Mhmm. Plus, the boutique Nat’s taking us to is just down the road from a pretty expensive maternity store who has an upstairs specifically for lingerie.” She murmured, kissing him lightly and nipping his bottom lip. He moaned into her mouth and clutched her sides. 
“Now I definitely need you.” He choked and she giggled, rolling on top of him and straddling his hips, subtly grinding on his length as she leaned down. 
“Plus, you’d have to face Natasha’s wrath if I was late today.” She nipped the tip of his nose and got off of him, rolling off the bed and prancing to his door.
“What am I supposed to do with this, then!” He called after her and he could hear her laugh loudly. Steve ached as he watched her look back and wink at him as if she had done nothing wrong at all.
“I’m sure you could figure something out!”
______________________
The appointment was smooth— all was well. Baby was healthy and when Dr. Cho asked if they wanted to find out the sex of the baby both Steve and YN adamantly denied. Instead Cho, a smirk on her face, adjusted the ultrasound machine so they wouldn’t be able to make out any shapes or lack thereof and handed the pictures to a glowing YN and Steve.
“He looks like a little alien,” Steve mumbled, looking at the squished face fo the 3D picture. YN looked over at it as they walked down the hall to the common room and snorted. The baby looked rather piggish at the moment, but it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen. 
“She has your nose,” YN mumbled and Steve sucked in a nervous breath and let it out shakily. 
“He has your chin.” He whispered back and took the pictures YN was holding, slipping them in the inside pocket of his spring jacket and placing the same hand low not he small of her back. His constant, hovering presence was just a tasty promise of what YN knew would be taking place later that night. 
“You’re late,” Natasha said from her perch in the corner of the couch and Steve snorted. 
“Hardly— and it’s not our fault. Kid didn’t want to hide his junk from Cho.” Steve joked, laughing when YN socked him in the arm hard enough for him to flinch. Another thing from being knocked up by a super soldier— she got some of his powers as well. 
“She was taking a little long to get comfortable is all.” YN glared, a smirk on her face as Steve pouted and rubbed his shoulder. 
“All the same,” Natasha waved them off and looked up from the notebook in her hands. There was a find smile on her face as she listened to the interaction and it only grew when she saw just how both YN and Steve were looking at each other. “The rest of the girls are headed over to the bridal shop, we’re just waiting for James and then we’ll go.”
YN’s heart dropped to her stomach at the thought of Bucky being at her dress fittings. Sure, they had become less cold towards each other following their first interaction, but the constant desire to impress him and seek his approval set YN’s nerves on edge. 
“Bucky’s coming?” YN asked, picking the dirt from her nails and looking nervously from Natasha to Steve. Natasha only smiled patiently and Steve kissed her temple. 
“He has the second-best style out of the team, actually. Sam would be coming today too, but I think he’s in Thailand at the moment.” Natasha replied, walking over. She placed her hand on YN’s arm and squeezed comfortingly. 
“He does like you, YN. We’ve talked about it— it’s just a matter of him opening up.” She whispered and YN let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” She smirked, looking over YN’s shoulder. 
Bucky had entered and yeah, okay. The guy had style. His form-fitting black jeans hugged all the right spots and the grey t-shirt he was wearing was tucked in in the front and covered by the warmth of a black bomber jacket. It was simple, but he oozed confidence which made YN feel slightly more comforted. His hair was tied into a neat bun at the nape of his neck and two carefully controlled pieces framed his face. 
Natasha wasted no time in peeling Steve away from YN’s side and pulling the pregnant woman over to her boyfriend. 
It seemed some of Natasha’s words were true. Bucky was looking at her with a little more warmth than he previously had, and his body language was more open to her than it was even on New Years Eve. 
“Hi. Thank you for coming today.” YN smiled politely and he returned the shy smile and nodded. 
“Anything to help the party— I’m happy to do what I can for family.” He said, voice impossibly soft and YN coughed around the sudden lump in her throat. Steve walked towards his best friend, moving slow enough for Bucky to say no, but quick enough to show Bucky how much his warmth meant and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Steve pat his hand against Bucky’s back in the way that men do, and even YN could hear the emotional whisper of ‘thank you’ uttered. 
“Shall we find you a dress, Mrs. Rogers?” Natasha smirked and watched in delight as both YN and Steve whipped their heads to each other and flushed equal shades of deep red. Before either could jump the other, Natasha wrapped her arm through YN’s and pulled her from the room. 
“We’ll return her later tonight, Steve!” Natasha beamed and Bucky rolled his eyes fondly at his girl. 
“I’ll make sure she's in one piece, Steve.” He reassured and Steve pulled Bucky into a quick embrace once more. 
“Thank you, Buck. You don’t know how much this means to us.” He murmured and Bucky shrugged. 
“She’s growing on me.” He stated. “At least someone can get you to stop your impulse decisions— takes a hell of a person to do that. Maybe I should ask for pointers.” Steve scoffed, shooing Bucky towards the doors. 
“Make sure my girl doesn’t drown in taffeta, please,” Steve asked and just as Bucky was about to turn around once more, Steve grabbed his arm with a coy smile on his face. “I’ll make sure Nat doesn’t burn down every boutique I drag her out in a few months in return.”
“Shut up, Punk.”
“Not a chance, Jerk.”
_________________________
The wedding boutique was something that reminded YN of heaven. Soft, white fabrics hung from racks that lined the walls and warm brown woods framed the tall ceiling. There was a sign welcoming the ‘Mrs. Rogers’ wedding party on a table which was full of champagne and orange juice and gourmet desserts. The worker was gorgeous and young and she welcomed all of YN and her party with a smile and a firm handshake. 
Bucky and Natasha watched carefully as YN squealed and rushed to Michaela who was waiting already with YN’s mother who looked like she had already been crying. 
“Mich!” YN squealed, rushing over and wrapping her arms tightly around her friend. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around— everything has been so freaking busy and—“ She was shushed by her friends stern look. 
“Hey, we still text like we usually do and we still call once a week. It’s okay. You’re life is crazy and I’m still not going anywhere.” Michaela smiled and YN wrapped her arms around her, mumbling a quick thank you and turning to her mom. 
YN’s mom was a short woman, stout but with an effortlessly kind and warm smile. She smiled and cupped YN’s face, eyes trailing over her face and down her body, eyes fixating on the bump. She smiled softly, and kissed YN’s cheek. 
“I’m so happy for you, my girl.” She smiled and YN ducked her head, frowning. 
“I have to apologize. I know I haven’t been around much since dad, and I should have been there for you more. I hope you can forgive me.” YN whispered and YN’s mom cooed at her daughter, a sad smile on her face. 
“I was never mad at you, Baby. You’ll know soon enough that you forgive your kid the second they do something wrong.” YN’s mom gave her a soft smile and YN let out a choked sob as she fell to her moms shoulder, arms holding her close. 
“I love you, mama.” She cried and YN’s mom shushed her, petting her hair and closing her eyes. 
“I love you, Baby.” 
Natasha, Bucky and Michaela had busied themselves with the snack table as YN and her mother reunited, and Bucky’s chest burned with the curiosity of the things he had just learned. Why had YN pulled away from her mom? What happened to her father?
YN sniffed and stood to her full height, wiping her face and turning around to her friends. 
“Okay, let’s get a move on and start crying for good reasons. I made a promise to my fiancee which I very much intend to keep.” YN smiled and Micheala snorted, catching Natasha’s eyes who understood quickly what the promise may have held. “Can you guys pick some dresses for me?”
The team dispersed, finding themselves in corners of the room and sifting through dresses which melded into the other. YN rubbed her tummy as she wandered around, looking at fabrics and touching the ones that caught her eye. She pulled the ones with the most welcoming texture and handed them off to the clerk who was following her, with an eager smile. 
After a particularly sharp kick from baby, YN grunted and looked down at her swollen tummy. 
“Hey, Kid. Chill out, yeah? Mom has to pick out a pretty dress for your daddy and their wedding day. Then, we can go home and hang out, okay? I think I’ll be able to send a text to Dad and ask if he can get some of that really spicy chilli you like so much. Maybe the one with the seafood? You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” YN rambled, rubbing her tummy and humming with relief when baby started to calm down at the sound of moms voice. Bucky was on the other side of the rack, listening in and smiling softly to himself as she continued to ramble. She was talking about the weather now, and went on a tangent about showing baby off by wearing sundresses and overalls and rompers. 
“You’re smiling like a crazy person, you know.” Natasha sidled up to him, a dress over her arm and nudging him. 
“She’s growing on me. I think she’s been talking about the weather for five minutes.” He chuckled, running his fingers over a dress with a deep v-cut with stars patterned on it. He pulled it out and looked at the princess skirt and nodded to himself, pulling it and throwing it over his arm. He turned to look down at his tiny girlfriend and kissed her forehead. The rush of the idea of Natasha in white just for him almost made him dizzy and he grabbed her chin, kissing her soundly. 
“What was that for?” Natasha smiled, breathless. He loved how he could get her like this— he was the only one besides Steve who got to see her for her vulnerable self and he was completely head over heels with that notion. 
“Just because.” He shrugged, the flat box in his inside jacket pocket feeling hot and heavier than ever. He carried it everywhere with him, just waiting for the proper moment. She let herself blush and smirk, looking down as she turned away and walking to the change room with a slight barely-there skip in her step. 
On the other side of the railing, YN finally turned back to the change room, letting the clerk in with her and undressing. She pulled don the first dress— a simple maternity mermaid dress. The stomach was stretchy, but formfitting and was more comfortable than YN could have imagined. It was rather plain, however, and YN found herself disenchanted with it. 
The reactions o it was a solid 6/10— the hype of the first wedding dress main up five of those points. YN was sent back quickly under the guise fo ‘we can do better’. 
The next few dresses were magical, and Michaela preened when it was her dress which garnered the first veil try on. 
The dress was a simple, soft fabric floaty thing— it made YN look as if there was a constant, flattering breeze and it accented all the best parts of her. The sleeves were comfortable and the low back was gorgeous. The only problem that YN could find was the fact that she would have to wear a maternity bra to prevent her from leaking all over the dress. 
“It was close though, babe.” YN smiled and winked. 
Natasha’s dress was a short one— an a-line skirt that brushed to YN’s mid-calf and YN was almost fully enchanted with it. It was reminiscent of the classic 1940’s style and YN thought Steve would drop dead if he saw her in something like this. 
“Maybe for the reception?” Her mother asked, wiping the corners fo her eyes. 
“I don’t think I want to have to have a dress which isn’t good for both, you know?” YN asked, and everyone nodded. YN was slowly getting more tired, but also incredibly restless, thinking about Steve waiting for her at home. It had been a few hours since she had last seen her guy and YN wanted no more of it. Thankfully, there was one dress left— Bucky’s. 
The dress was gorgeous. It was a layered, soft skirt— the dress looked like something out of a fairy tale or a Taylor Swift music video. The dress had a high waistline which could be adjusted to accommodate YN’s future eight-month bump she would have for their wedding in June. The top was beautiful— there were already maternity cups sewn into the fabric which allowed her to not have to worry about the bra situation or the deep v-line which only accentuated the curves of her boobs and the scooping back which showed off the perfect amount of skin (which Steve would love). The sleeves were transparent but long, and everything was easy to dance in and move around in. The selling point, however, was the subtle white pattern of stars under the top layer of fabric. It was a barely-there detail, but when YN looked in the mirror and saw all the details that worked so well together, she burst into tears. 
She collected herself enough to be able to see, and walked out, the clerk holding the slight trail as she walked out into the main room. 
The reaction was immediate— both Michaela and YN’s mom started crying immediately, and Natasha covered her mouth, a smile stretching over her face as she looked at her best friends fiancee stare at herself in the mirror. Bucky, however, remained without reaction. This was his dress, and this was his best friends soulmate and this was everything he had wanted for Steve since kindergarten. His body was numb and his hands were on fire and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. 
“I think this is a good veil one, I think.” The clerk smiled, grabbing one and bringing it over to YN. Before the worker could pin it to YN’s hair, Bucky shot up. 
“May I?” He murmured, and the clerk nodded and handed it to him, backing off immediately— he couldn’t even care if it was for fear because this was such a huge moment. He took the clip and slid it into YN’s hair, fluffing it out and peeking over her shoulder to look at her in the mirror. 
Perfect. He walked around the podium she stood on, coming to face her and looked up at her. She looked down at him with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. She wrung her hands nervously until Bucky took them in his own. 
“YN YLN.” He started, voice low. “I am happy that you’re marrying my best friend. I’m sorry I’ve been less than kind to you, but seeing you together, and seeing how much you love this baby and how much you fit in with everyone is really, really making you grow on me. I’m so happy I’m going to be able to call you my sister-in-law soon.” He smiled and YN, without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug. 
“Thank you,” She sobbed softly, and she could vaguely hear everyone behind them reacting the same— even Natasha had let out a loud gasp. “You don’t understand how much this means to me, James.” 
Bucky returned her hug slowly and kissed her temple briefly. 
“Welcome to the family, kid.” He smiled, and she wiped her eyes, turning around tot he wedding party, still holding onto Bucky’s hand and smiling. 
“I think I’ve found my dress.” She smiled, squeezing Bucky’s hand and laughing as everyone shot from their seats and crowded around her, showering her with hugs and kisses and happy. 
_______________________________
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allmight-amiright · 5 years
Text
All I Want.  Midoriya Izuku
Word Count. 1.7k
Warnings. Swearing. Angsty? Kinda?
You were everything that he had ever wanted.  You were kind, tough, and independent.  For as long as he could remember, Izuku had had a crush on you.  The two of you grew up in the same apartment complex, so you frequently spent time with him.  You were in his elementary class and his middle school class, and now, here you were, in his high school class.  Before he even walked through the door of his classroom, he could hear your beautiful laugh, making him smile so wide that his cheeks hurt. 
His eyes met yours as he walked through the door.  You were seated in a desk at the back of the classroom, but you weren’t alone.  You never were.  Bakugou was leaned against the edge of your desk, carrying on a conversation until he saw that you had redirected your attention.  As you raised your hand to wave at your childhood friend, Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “Deku!” you called.
Izuku felt his face go red as he nervously made his way to you.  “Uh, h-hey, Y/N, Kaachan.  It’s, um, good t-to see you guys here,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“What the hell are you doing here, Deku? Didn’t I tell you to not to show your face?” Bakugou growled, starting to advance on Izuku, but he stopped when you grabbed onto the tail of his shirt.
“What Kaachan meant to say was that we’re glad to have you here too, Deku.  It’s going to be so much fun! It’ll be the same as it’s always been!” You smiled wide, hugging Bakugou’s arm out of excitement.
Izuku’s smile faltered.  That’s right... You and Kaachan... It had probably been six months since Kaachan had asked you on that date that started it all.  It had probably been eight months since you had confided in Deku about your developing crush on the explosive blonde, to which Deku supported you as best that he could.  He wasn’t one to let his feelings get in the way.  In the end, he just wanted you happy.  Izuku just couldn’t believe that your happy was with Kaachan...
“Y-yeah,” Izuku said, giving you a sad smile. 
“Get in your seats.  You’re all too loud,” a voice said.  Everyone in the class ceased their conversations and turned towards the yellow sleeping bag that stood at the front of the classroom.  “Stop staring and sit down.  You’ll learn to listen the first time before you leave this school.”
Students quickly shuffled to a desk near their new friends.  Izuku started to take a seat in the desk next to yours.  A hand slammed down on the desk.  “Don’t even think about it, Deku,” Bakugou hissed.
“O-oh, I-i’m s-sorry, K-kaachan. I-i didn’t know- I’m sorry. I-i didn’t mean to take your-” Izuku stammered, backing away from the desk, becoming more and flustered with each passing word as Bakugou continued to glare at him.  
“Then move!” He yelled, causing Izuku to flinch. 
Izuku quickly scanned the room for another desk, but everyone was staring at him.  He felt his cheeks go warm all over again and he looked down at the ground.  “Here, Deku.  I’ll let you sit by, Kaachan!  I can pay better attention at the front anyway,” you say, leading the now trembling boy to the seat that you had previously been occupying.  Both boys watched as you took your bag and sat at the front of the classroom.  
“That was five minutes of my day wasted and five minutes of your education wasted.  Anyway. I am Mr. Aizawa and I will be your homeroom teacher.  Welcome to class 1-A.  We’re going to be testing your quirks, so go change into your gym clothes.  You have ten minutes,” Mr. Aizawa said.
The students all filed out the door.  You slowed down enough to wait for Bakugou to reach the front of the room and you let him sling an arm around your shoulders.  “Isn’t it awesome that Deku gets to be in class with us?” You say, smiling widely.
“He’s quirkless.  UA must really be lowering their standards if they let a loser like him in.
The girl in front of you turned around.  “Huh? What do you mean?  He seemed to have a pretty powerful quirk when he took the entrance exam.  It’s kinda self-destructive, but he saved my life,” she said, looking confused.
You and Bakugou said nothing, just looking at eachother with the same look of confusion.  
“Deku!” You shouted, running out the doors of UA after the familiar head of green hair.
Izuku stopped and turned to face you, his finger wrapped in bandages.  When he saw your happy smile coming towards him, he couldn’t help but smile in return.  You were too cute.  “Hey, Y/N.”
You slowed down when you caught up to him.  “How’s your finger?”
“Good as new.  Recovery Girl fixed me up.  Where’s Kaachan? Doesn’t he usually walk you home?”
You giggled.  “He’s being hounded by that kid with the weird red hair and Great Value Pikachu.  It’s really nice to see a few people trying to be his friend.  Maybe it’ll help him become a nicer person. Besides, I thought we could walk home together.  You know, like the old days.”  You pause a moment, biting your lip.  You look down at your feet.  “Um, speaking of Katsuki... I’m sorry about earlier.  He was just shocked, that’s all.  I mean, so was I.  We always thought that you didn’t have a quirk, so when you did that, it kind of threw him off guard.”
“You don’t have to apologize for him.  It’s not your fault,” he said, readjusting his backpack as the two of you continued walking down the sidewalk.  
“I know it’s not, but he’s still my boyfriend, so I do feel a little responsible for letting him get out of hand like that.”  There was that word.  Boyfriend. Izuku hated to admit how much he couldn’t stand you saying that word about someone as brash as Katsuki.  You were so sweet and he was so- not.
“Hey, Midoriya! Y/N!” a new voice shouted.  You and Izuku turned and we greeted by the smiling face of your classmate Kirishima who was walking alongside Bokugou.  
“Hey, guys!” You smiled wide at your classmate, waving to him.  Bakugou held out his hand when he reached you, the silent signal that had become almost a tradition between the two of you.  You slipped off your backpack and watched as he shifted it onto his back.  
“Woah, I didn’t know you were such the gentleman, Bakugou,” Kirishima teased.
“Shut up and take some notes, weird hair,” Bakugou smirked, letting you hold onto his arm like usual. 
The four of you continued walking like that, chatting about your first day at school.  Izuku only spoke when spoken to and Bakugou glared at him every  time he even thought about opening his mouth.  If it weren’t for you and Kirishima, the conversation would have fizzled away long ago and turned awkward.  
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Kirishima yelled, waving a farewell as he parted ways to walk to the train station.  
“Bye, Kirishima!” You shouted, waving back to him.  “He’s cool.  I’m glad to see you made a friend on your first day of school,” you chimed, poking Bakugou in the side, and, of course, he had to shoot you a half-serious glare.
“He’s alright for an extra,” he admitted, stopping in the masses of people waiting for the light to change.
Izuku, however, was lost in his thoughts.  Why did he have to show up?  Izuku was doing just fine walking you home.  He just wanted to be able to talk to you without having Kaachan constantly scowl at him for doing nothing at all.  
But, when Izuku’s nose abruptly made contact with Bakugou’s shoulder, he knew he was in for it. “Deku! You fucking loser, watch where the hell you’re going or I’ll-” Bakugou started. At this point, Izuku already had his eyes shut tight, ready to be hit for being so careless, but when he childhood bully failed to finish his sentence, he dared to open one eye.  
He instantly regretted it.  You were on your toes, pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s.  When you pulled away from him, you whispered something that Izuku couldn’t hear, but from the exasperated gestures that you were receiving and your not-so-sneaky glance over Bakugou’s shoulder at him, he was pretty sure that he was the subject.
Izuku stared at his feet, lip quivering.  He felt like a hopeless child.  You were treating him like some fragile doll that would break if the wrong thing slipped from someone’s mouth.  He was old enough to fight his own battles, but, yet, you insisted on doing it for him.
Flight by flight, the three of you climbed the stairs until you reached the third floor.  Izuku watched as you unlocked your door and gave Bakugou another soft kiss as a goodbye.  “I’ll call you later, Katsu,” you said, taking your bag from him.  “Goodnight, Deku!  I’ll see you tomorrow!” You waved to him, smiling that smile of yours that always made him feel so warm and secure.  He raised his own hand in farewell and starting climbing the stairs the rest of the way to his own apartment.
“Deku.”
Oh no.
Izuku slowly turned to face Bakugou.  He took a deep, shaky breath.  The blonde was only a few feet away from him at this point.  Those crimson eyes boring holes into his soul.  
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing.  Everyone knows that you’ve had a weird obsession with Y/N ever since we were kids, but you were too much of a wimp to do anything about it.  You lost your chance, Deku.  Not like she’d ever want to date a loser like you, anyway.  So, tell me, what exactly do you want with my girlfriend?” 
Izuku felt his face go hot.  Was he really that obvious with his feelings for you?  He shouldered past Bakugou and started up the stairs, tears beginning to well in his eyes. 
“I just want her to be happy, Kaachan.”
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frickmeupkpop · 5 years
Text
Coffee Queen
A/N: Shout out to @jakjacq for reminding this old woman how to internet and link posts. Thank you so much I really appreciate it, you’ve saved me. Anyone with feedback, comments, wanna just talk, drop me a message. I’m nice.
THIS IS PART 4.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | 
Day6/YoungK
Reader/YoungK fic
Author: actual-chaotic-mess
Prompt: I work as a barista in a coffee shop you frequent and I tried to make a leaf design on your coffee but it ended being a dick instead
Summary: Working in a coffee shop, Kang Younghyun often visits at the end of your shift. You try to draw a cute leaf on the top of his coffee one day, but it ends up looking a little off, and not at all what you planned. He likes it anyway.
Part 4.
The drive home had been interesting to say the least. Younghyun was a good driver, but he weaved through the traffic more and faster than you would have liked, you’d gripped onto the handle on the door so tight your knuckles were white and your hand was stiff when he pulled up outside your apartment building.
You expected him to wait in the car, watch you get into the building, except that is not what happened. He came around to your door and opened it. He insisted on walking you directly to your door, so he could be sure you definitely made it home safely. It was his responsibility he’d said, something, that again, had made you laugh. You were your own problem. You weren’t a child. You let him take you anyway, warning him to be quiet because the staircase echoed, he nodded. The pair of you trotted your way quietly up the six flights of stairs, before arriving at your apartment. You thanked him and put your key to the door.
It swung open and you looked on in shock as your parents stood in the gaping doorway, glancing between Younghyun and yourself. Your father’s brow creased and your mother gasped, covering her mouth. You knew your father had plenty to say, his face had started turning red. You held up a hand in an attempt to stop him before he started, but it was too late.
“So, this is what has kept you out so late?” Your father spat his demand. “This is where you go every single day? To be with this... boy?” He continued. Your mouth worked, attempting to make words, though only the occasional sound or squeak escaped your lips. Your mother was still frozen in her horrified state. You looked to her for help, to no avail. You didn’t know how to continue from this. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t what he thought. Your father was a stubborn man, whatever he thought was happening is what it was, and no amount of arguing would tell him it wasn’t how it seemed.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” To your surprise, Kang Younghyun had folded himself in a ninety-degree angle. “I am in a band, we order coffee from your daughter at the end of her shift every time, she brings them to us. We asked her to stay for a while, time passed faster than we anticipated. I intended for her to be home a lot earlier than this.” His explanation was rational, but your fathers face turned purple. He was furious.
“What?” His tone had gone from demanding to sceptical and livid. “Listen, boy. My daughter works hard every day in that coffee shop. Every single day, what gives you the right to demand a delivery when the shop doesn’t even offer the service?” You sighed. Your mother had melted her stance and taken your father by the arm, trying to lead him inside. You pushed him backwards too, he continued to berate Younghyun, even though you had tried to explain that even though you’d stayed longer than planned, Younghyun had made sure you got home safely, even to the point of driving you home and walking you to your door.  
He wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t care. You were a respectable young woman and didn’t need the likes of this hooligan having you out at all hours of the night. You attempted to usher your father into the apartment so that he wasn’t yelling in the hallway and disturbing the neighbours further, but he refused, he wasn’t done. You turned to Younghyun, who was accepting his fate, receiving his lecture as though he deserved it. Your mother eventually managed to pull your father back into the apartment and you stood in the doorway, looking at a sullen Younghyun.
“Sorry.” You both said at the same time, which caused you both to look at each other in shock and confusion. “Why are you sorry?” You asked in unison. You waved your hand at him to continue.
“For asking you to come to the practices, to bring us coffee at the end of your shift. For not realising the time and getting you home earlier tonight. I really didn’t know the hour.” He told you and you laughed. A sound you didn’t expect to seep from yourself, obviously, nor did he, which only made a smile stretch across your face and a frown to etch itself into his brow deeply. “Why are you laughing?” He almost demanded of you.
“I’m laughing because that’s outrageous. My father yelled at you for getting me home safely, that’s not a nice thing to do, I apologise to you on his behalf. You needn’t be sorry for letting me have a life outside of work and family.” You told him. You felt your mother’s hand on your shoulder. She was softer than your father, certainly more accepting of all kinds of things. She wasn’t as set in her ways as your father. You smiled at her and she reached for Younghyun’s hand, taking it in her own.
“I’m terribly sorry for my husband’s behaviour. He gets a little upset when it comes to our daughter. She’s his pride and joy, I’m sure you’ll understand should you have a daughter of your own.” She said patting the back of his hand with her other hand. “Perhaps, he would not have gotten so agitated had we met at a more... reasonable hour.” She added looking mildly thoughtful. It took you a moment to realise your mother thought he was a boy you were interested in, but when it clicked, your mouth began to form a protest, once again, but you were too slow, Younghyun was already bowing his head and saying he was sorry, yet again, to which you tilted your head in confusion.
“Really, Ma’am, I didn’t mean to keep her at the practice room so long. We - the boys and I - really enjoy your daughter’s company, we were just talking, about the plan for the band, some songs that someone had written. She’s really smart and she has good input on how we perceive things, it’s really helpful, and she’s really fun.” He told your mother, still bowing his head. Your mother rubbed the back of his hand a little before patting it again. She told him to go home now, that she was sorry again for her husband’s tirade. That he should give it a few days before he comes around again, and to do so at a respectable hour.
“Mother, he’s not going to be coming around again, he wasn’t staying today. He was dropping me off because it’s late,” You insisted, though she only rested her hand calmly on your shoulder. She said she understood. She was young once too. She didn’t mind. You are an adult now. You stared at her, deflated. How could your parents have it so wrong? It’s not like you were going to date Younghyun. You were friends. You weren’t even attracted to him... Were you?  
Getting showered and ready for bed happened in a haze. You were too busy asking yourself questions. Did you like Younghyun? Of course, he was great. He was fun to be around, making you smile. He was sweet, kind and caring. He even brought you home in the car just because it was cold and late, took a lecture from your father for doing so. Of course, you liked him. That was very admirable behaviour. Perhaps the question was phrased wrong. Did you like Younghyun in a love interest kind of way? Excellent question. You didn’t think you did. Though, you realised you’d started to feel calmer and happier when you saw his face. The troubles of the day seemed irrelevant. He made you feel happy and comfortable and you really enjoyed his company. But did that mean you liked him? You weren’t sure.  
You stood at the side of your bed, staring at it. It had reached four o’clock in the morning and you weren’t sure if it was even worth going to bed at this point. Still, you climbed in under the covers, and hugged your pillow, your head still reeling. You had the day off tomorrow, yet you’d forgotten to tell the boys. You yawned, loudly, and stretched out your limbs before curling in on yourself. There was only one thing for it. You’d have to pay more attention to how you felt.
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How I Got This Body: Choosing Consistency Over Speed, Eating a Keto Diet, and Starting a Fitness Instagram
New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/how-i-got-this-body-choosing-consistency-over-speed-eating-a-keto-diet-and-starting-a-fitness-instagram/
How I Got This Body: Choosing Consistency Over Speed, Eating a Keto Diet, and Starting a Fitness Instagram
Photographs courtesy of Louis Kim.
Who: Louis Kim, a 40-year-old real estate broker Lives: Ballston Height: 5’10” Pounds lost: 60 pounds How long it took: Six months
View this post on Instagram
The video on the left is from 01/06/19 the video on the right is from 07/27/19. Both 106 lbs each after a workout. The workout I did on the right significantly harder than the one I did on the left. • • Could I be slimmer? • • I absolutely could have lost more weight during the months between January 6 and July 27. I could have been more disciplined, I could have eaten less, I could have done more cardio, I could have pushed myself more, and I could have also gained more weight too. All of that has passed. I can’t change the mistakes, and I can’t rest on the victories I’ve already stacked. Until I make prime health, and high performance an absolute standard in my life I can’t rest. The irony is when peak performance is the baseline there will only be forward movement and growth. • • Whatever happens in the future depends on what I do today. Whatever I did in the past is in the past. All I can control is this minute, this moment now. So what I can promise is a commitment to keep growing, and pushing myself. All else is a byproduct of my efforts. My expectation by December is to be in the 250 lbs range with a high degree of athleticism. This goal is necessary so that by July of next year I will be 185 lbs and primed for Mount Rainier. • • Whatever you are seeking, whatever you want, whatever you desire, whatever you want to change just take the steps to move forward. Stay Salty AF Friends. • • #75hard #75hardchallenge #saltyasian #saltyasians #salty8sians #salty8sian #saltyfam #staysaltyAF
A post shared by Lou K (@salty8sian) on Jul 28, 2019 at 11:18am PDT
Turning point: I was tired of feeling tired. I’d ballooned back up to 363 pounds and started to have problems sitting up because my stomach was so large. It would push me backwards, so I’d have to slouch whenever I sat.
Exercise: I started working out with a trainer who I’d met at Washington Sports Club a long time ago. He and I had a rhythm that picked right back up like you do with old friends. Because he knew my abilities [from] the past, he didn’t give me a chance to quit. I started once a week with him, and still see him once a week.
In January, I started working [out] with one of the trainers at One Life Fitness. At the time, I had all these goals for strength, like squatting 400 pounds, deadlifting 500 pounds, and benching 300 pounds. Today I’m more concerned about work capacity and doing high-volume workouts to burn more calories and build endurance. My goal is to climb Mount Rainier next summer and Aconcagua the following fall.
A major fitness threshold I broke at One Life Fitness was benching 225 pounds for the first time in my life. I think the day we did it, I got up to 265 pounds for a one-rep max.
Diet: I went strict Keto. The last three months, I slipped off; however, I’m back to strict again. I count macros more than calories, unless my weight plateaus. Today I focus very heavily on eating veggies and protein, along with eliminating anything with a sweet flavor profile.
How he stuck with it: That’s a loaded question. I don’t think anyone truly stays dogmatically committed or motivated to their routine. For me, I am focused on a constant forward momentum. So if I slip up, I don’t let it ruin my day. I focus on getting back on the saddle as quickly as possible, negating what just happened, and then building the momentum back. There’s so much inspiration porn on social media that motivation has to come from a deep desire to achieve something—it’s meaningless without action.
There is no such thing as a work, life, and fitness balance. You prioritize and then converge those areas where you can, like spending time with family outdoors on a hike or getting some cardio in on a bike while listening to a book you have to read. Those areas that don’t fit into your goals have to fall [lower] on your priority list and you get to them when you can.
Favorite splurge: My splurge these days is a Fresca or a Coke Zero. I’ve mostly eliminated sweets from my diet when I’m out with friends or family. [If] everyone else is drinking, I’ll drink artificial sweetener. I can tell you I regret it every time because I feel more sore the next day. The only other thing I will do is have a milkshake if I’ve done something endurance-related for multiple hours.
Changes to his “invisible” health: I’m a Type 2 diabetic because of my weight. [Now], my blood sugar is naturally lower. I also sleep better.
How he felt then vs. how he feels now: When I started, I wanted it next week—I wanted to be 100 pounds lighter [immediately]. Today I am going to be happier if it takes me two years to lose another 100 pounds if it means that I can keep it off forever. Consistency trumps speed. More importantly, sustainability until I die is the only way I win. Doing the things that instill lifetime habits and strategies are all that matters.
Newfound body love: If I could just show my legs everywhere, I’d be one sexy bitch.
View this post on Instagram
Here’s the thing about trying…it’s the fucking bare minimum. Showing up and just trying is literally the difference between doing something and just talking about doing something. I told myself over 2 years ago hey I’ve lost weight before I’ll start tomorrow and crush it hard. That became a daily routine where one day rolled into another 2 years. I wake up and I’m heavier, angrier, and in THE worst shape of my life. I wasn’t even trying. So at some point when you’re tired enough and angry enough about how you feel go for a 5 minute walk around your block, or 3 flights up and down the stairs of your office don’t think about just do it. • • Make the commitment and when starting from zero do the fucking bare minimum to get started. One step, then build on that, nothing good ever came easy or quick. • • After you start “trying” then you have to start growing. Keep pushing yourself through those areas that are uncomfortable. It’s super cheesy however get “comfortable being uncomfortable” it’s the truth. Eventually you will dig at it like a scab and find yourself pushing towards growth. • Two three months ago box jumps seemed impossible, until one day I just started it. Then this motherfucker @alitrainshumans pushes me to do 24” box jumps. I do a few and now I can’t cycle them but I’m doing them for reps in workouts. Leads us to today. • • Ali’s been pushing me to hit 30” and of course today was going to be another day of attempting. I wanted to post this because I didn’t make it happen today. Attempt, after attempt, after attempt, I ended up missing. If you see the video I am physically capable of getting on the box. I get on the box two or three times and lose my balance. Physical isn’t the problem. I mentally am uncertain of doing it. The doubt I’m carrying in my head is preventing me from reaching what I am physically capable of doing. • What started as a single step forward of doing cardio for 20 minutes has me doing 150 squats and biking 15 miles in the same day. Just trying isn’t good enough anymore. My mind has to shift towards focused effort as part of a larger plan so I can make the adjustments to continue to grow. #75hard #saltyasian #saltyasians
A post shared by Lou K (@salty8sian) on Jul 18, 2019 at 12:28pm PDT
On who keeps him accountable: [Fitness coach] Ali Register—he’s my spirit animal and helped me get off my ass. He truly pushes me to overcome my limitations. We are working on jumping up to a 30-inch box. [And trainer] Joe Heilen—he’s helped me push my body in a way I had never [done before].
To those who want to make a change: [My Instagram page] sums it up. 
This interview has been edited and condensed. Readers should consult their doctors before making health and wellness decisions. 
Associate Editor
Mimi Montgomery joined Washingtonian in 2018. She previously was the editorial assistant at Walter Magazine in Raleigh, North Carolina, and her work has appeared in Washington City Paper, DCist, and PoPVille. Originally from North Carolina, she now lives in Adams Morgan.
Source link Keto Diet Definition
0 notes
Text
How I Got This Body: Choosing Consistency Over Speed, Eating a Keto Diet, and Starting a Fitness Instagram
New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/how-i-got-this-body-choosing-consistency-over-speed-eating-a-keto-diet-and-starting-a-fitness-instagram/
How I Got This Body: Choosing Consistency Over Speed, Eating a Keto Diet, and Starting a Fitness Instagram
Photographs courtesy of Louis Kim.
Who: Louis Kim, a 40-year-old real estate broker Lives: Ballston Height: 5’10” Pounds lost: 60 pounds How long it took: Six months
View this post on Instagram
The video on the left is from 01/06/19 the video on the right is from 07/27/19. Both 106 lbs each after a workout. The workout I did on the right significantly harder than the one I did on the left. • • Could I be slimmer? • • I absolutely could have lost more weight during the months between January 6 and July 27. I could have been more disciplined, I could have eaten less, I could have done more cardio, I could have pushed myself more, and I could have also gained more weight too. All of that has passed. I can’t change the mistakes, and I can’t rest on the victories I’ve already stacked. Until I make prime health, and high performance an absolute standard in my life I can’t rest. The irony is when peak performance is the baseline there will only be forward movement and growth. • • Whatever happens in the future depends on what I do today. Whatever I did in the past is in the past. All I can control is this minute, this moment now. So what I can promise is a commitment to keep growing, and pushing myself. All else is a byproduct of my efforts. My expectation by December is to be in the 250 lbs range with a high degree of athleticism. This goal is necessary so that by July of next year I will be 185 lbs and primed for Mount Rainier. • • Whatever you are seeking, whatever you want, whatever you desire, whatever you want to change just take the steps to move forward. Stay Salty AF Friends. • • #75hard #75hardchallenge #saltyasian #saltyasians #salty8sians #salty8sian #saltyfam #staysaltyAF
A post shared by Lou K (@salty8sian) on Jul 28, 2019 at 11:18am PDT
Turning point: I was tired of feeling tired. I’d ballooned back up to 363 pounds and started to have problems sitting up because my stomach was so large. It would push me backwards, so I’d have to slouch whenever I sat.
Exercise: I started working out with a trainer who I’d met at Washington Sports Club a long time ago. He and I had a rhythm that picked right back up like you do with old friends. Because he knew my abilities [from] the past, he didn’t give me a chance to quit. I started once a week with him, and still see him once a week.
In January, I started working [out] with one of the trainers at One Life Fitness. At the time, I had all these goals for strength, like squatting 400 pounds, deadlifting 500 pounds, and benching 300 pounds. Today I’m more concerned about work capacity and doing high-volume workouts to burn more calories and build endurance. My goal is to climb Mount Rainier next summer and Aconcagua the following fall.
A major fitness threshold I broke at One Life Fitness was benching 225 pounds for the first time in my life. I think the day we did it, I got up to 265 pounds for a one-rep max.
Diet: I went strict Keto. The last three months, I slipped off; however, I’m back to strict again. I count macros more than calories, unless my weight plateaus. Today I focus very heavily on eating veggies and protein, along with eliminating anything with a sweet flavor profile.
How he stuck with it: That’s a loaded question. I don’t think anyone truly stays dogmatically committed or motivated to their routine. For me, I am focused on a constant forward momentum. So if I slip up, I don’t let it ruin my day. I focus on getting back on the saddle as quickly as possible, negating what just happened, and then building the momentum back. There’s so much inspiration porn on social media that motivation has to come from a deep desire to achieve something—it’s meaningless without action.
There is no such thing as a work, life, and fitness balance. You prioritize and then converge those areas where you can, like spending time with family outdoors on a hike or getting some cardio in on a bike while listening to a book you have to read. Those areas that don’t fit into your goals have to fall [lower] on your priority list and you get to them when you can.
Favorite splurge: My splurge these days is a Fresca or a Coke Zero. I’ve mostly eliminated sweets from my diet when I’m out with friends or family. [If] everyone else is drinking, I’ll drink artificial sweetener. I can tell you I regret it every time because I feel more sore the next day. The only other thing I will do is have a milkshake if I’ve done something endurance-related for multiple hours.
Changes to his “invisible” health: I’m a Type 2 diabetic because of my weight. [Now], my blood sugar is naturally lower. I also sleep better.
How he felt then vs. how he feels now: When I started, I wanted it next week—I wanted to be 100 pounds lighter [immediately]. Today I am going to be happier if it takes me two years to lose another 100 pounds if it means that I can keep it off forever. Consistency trumps speed. More importantly, sustainability until I die is the only way I win. Doing the things that instill lifetime habits and strategies are all that matters.
Newfound body love: If I could just show my legs everywhere, I’d be one sexy bitch.
View this post on Instagram
Here’s the thing about trying…it’s the fucking bare minimum. Showing up and just trying is literally the difference between doing something and just talking about doing something. I told myself over 2 years ago hey I’ve lost weight before I’ll start tomorrow and crush it hard. That became a daily routine where one day rolled into another 2 years. I wake up and I’m heavier, angrier, and in THE worst shape of my life. I wasn’t even trying. So at some point when you’re tired enough and angry enough about how you feel go for a 5 minute walk around your block, or 3 flights up and down the stairs of your office don’t think about just do it. • • Make the commitment and when starting from zero do the fucking bare minimum to get started. One step, then build on that, nothing good ever came easy or quick. • • After you start “trying” then you have to start growing. Keep pushing yourself through those areas that are uncomfortable. It’s super cheesy however get “comfortable being uncomfortable” it’s the truth. Eventually you will dig at it like a scab and find yourself pushing towards growth. • Two three months ago box jumps seemed impossible, until one day I just started it. Then this motherfucker @alitrainshumans pushes me to do 24” box jumps. I do a few and now I can’t cycle them but I’m doing them for reps in workouts. Leads us to today. • • Ali’s been pushing me to hit 30” and of course today was going to be another day of attempting. I wanted to post this because I didn’t make it happen today. Attempt, after attempt, after attempt, I ended up missing. If you see the video I am physically capable of getting on the box. I get on the box two or three times and lose my balance. Physical isn’t the problem. I mentally am uncertain of doing it. The doubt I’m carrying in my head is preventing me from reaching what I am physically capable of doing. • What started as a single step forward of doing cardio for 20 minutes has me doing 150 squats and biking 15 miles in the same day. Just trying isn’t good enough anymore. My mind has to shift towards focused effort as part of a larger plan so I can make the adjustments to continue to grow. #75hard #saltyasian #saltyasians
A post shared by Lou K (@salty8sian) on Jul 18, 2019 at 12:28pm PDT
On who keeps him accountable: [Fitness coach] Ali Register—he’s my spirit animal and helped me get off my ass. He truly pushes me to overcome my limitations. We are working on jumping up to a 30-inch box. [And trainer] Joe Heilen—he’s helped me push my body in a way I had never [done before].
To those who want to make a change: [My Instagram page] sums it up. 
This interview has been edited and condensed. Readers should consult their doctors before making health and wellness decisions. 
Associate Editor
Mimi Montgomery joined Washingtonian in 2018. She previously was the editorial assistant at Walter Magazine in Raleigh, North Carolina, and her work has appeared in Washington City Paper, DCist, and PoPVille. Originally from North Carolina, she now lives in Adams Morgan.
Source link Keto Diet Definition
0 notes