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shiftyskip · 4 years ago

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Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents.

He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved.

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933 to a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house.

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety).

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks.

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied. “Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that:

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting. One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously.

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish.

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”.

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park.

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war.

The Liebgotts divorced in April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter.

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...”

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands.

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet.

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie. He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book.

#Real Life Band of Brothers #real band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

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Abandon All Hope: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,911

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“That's my girl, you're okay, honey,” Ellen whispered to her daughter as she held her.

Jo wasn’t looking too good, and you were trying everything you could not to break down here and now. You’ve been using your magic to heal the wound, and it’s been working, but her body has been drained of so much blood that even if the wound was closed, she wasn’t going to make it.

“Now we know where the devil's gonna be, we know when, and we have the Colt.”

“Yeah. We just have to get past eight or so hellhounds and get to the farm by midnight.”

“Yeah, and that's after we get Jo and Ellen the hell out of town.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“What about a stretcher? I can use my magic to conceal them from Meg or whoever looks at them,” you suggested.

“I'll see what we got,” Sam said, turning to leave when Jo stopped him.

“Stop. Guys, stop. Can we, uh, be realistic about this, please? I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta—we gotta get our priorities straight here. Number one, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Joanna Beth, you stop talking like that,” Ellen choked up.

“Mom. I can't fight. I can't walk. But I can do something. We got propane, wiring, rock salt, iron nails, and everything else we need.”

“Everything we need?” you wondered.

“To build a bomb, Y/N.”

“No. Jo, no, that’s crazy!”

“You got another plan? You got any other plan? Those are hellhounds out there, Y/N. They've got all of our scents. Those bitches will never stop coming after you. We let the dogs in, you guys hit the roof, make a break for the building next over. I can wait here with my finger on the button, rip those mutts a new one. Or at least get you a few minutes' head start, anyway.”

“No, I—I won't let you,” Ellen cried.

“This is why we're here, right? If I can get us a shot on the devil—Dean, we have to take it.”

“No!” Ellen shouted, looking at Dean. “That’s not—”

“Mom, this might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. Might wanna take it?” she coughed.

Ellen starts sobbing, and you let tears fall from your eyes at the realization that Jo isn’t going to see tomorrow… and Ellen might not either.

“You heard her. Get to work,” Ellen sniffled.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you and the Winchesters set out to make the bombs, filling them with nails and rock salt for shrapnel. All of those bombs took time, and it was night fall when you finished. Sam takes Jo’s hand while Dean strings the wire to the button she will hold.

“Okay, this is it. I'll see you on the other side. Probably sooner than later,” Dean chuckled humorlessly.

“Make it later,” she sighed.

Dean puts the button in Jo’s hand. She didn’t like this even though it was necessary for survival. He kissed her forehead meaningfully before pulling away. Ellen came back and took a seat next to her daughter. Mother and daughter stared at one another before Ellen smiled.

“Mom, no.”

“Somebody's gotta let them in. Like you said, you're not moving. You got me, Jo. And you're right, this is important. But I will not leave you here alone.”

“Ellen,” you got tears again.

“Get going now,” she sniffled.

“Ellen!”

“I said go,” she urged. The tears wouldn’t stop leaking from your eyes even as you forced yourself to walk away. “Dean? Kick it in the ass. Don’t miss.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“I am so sorry,” you whispered.

Ellen got up, unchains the doors, sweeps away the salt line, opens the propane tanks, sits back down next to Jo, and hugs her. Dean forced you out the back door even though you didn’t want to. As you were climbing down the fire escape, you were sobbing quietly. Jo was your only good girl friend, and Ellen was like a maternal figure in your life. It was hard knowing you were leaving them in there to die. As soon as your feet touched the ground, you three began running down the alley. When you got far enough, the hardware store exploded, and you turned to watch it burn.

“JO!!” you screamed, but Dean covered your mouth before anyone else could hear.

“Come on,” he urged.

He had to force you to follow them before you could follow on your own. You kept your sobs quiet as you ran to the farm and through bushes. When you arrived at the scene, dozens of men stand in the field, their attention on something you couldn’t see.

“Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople,” Dean noticed.

“Okay, last words?” Sam asked.

“I think I’m good,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I love you both so much,” you blurted out, wiping away the dried tears.

“Here goes nothing,” Dean breathed heavily.

Sam got up and walked out in the open with a shot gun even though it wouldn’t do any good on the Devil. Dean took your hand and led you across the way to have a bit of surprise on him.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, approaching Lucifer. The devil turns and drops the shovel in his hands. “You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you. Not really.”

“Yeah? Well, we’d hurt you,” Dean grinned, coming out in the open.

You trailed behind with your eyes glowing bright blue and magic swirling around your hands. Dean pointed the Colt at Lucifer and shot him point-blank in the forehead. The angel fell to the ground, but none of the men surrounding you do anything about it.

“Is that it?” you asked.

After a minute or so, Lucifer took a deep breath and sat up.

“Owww,” he complained. The hole in his head started closing as he stood up. “Where did you get that?”

Lucifer had a look of murder in his eyes, and when he approached Dean, you knew he was going to hurt him. Without thinking, you rushed in front of Dean just as Lucifer’s fist came up to punch Dean. Your hand made contact with his, but a layer of magic separated the two kinds of flesh. Your eyes only glowed a brighter blue the more magic you exerted on the archangel. He was impressed you could do this, but he knew he was more powerful than you were.

“Even locked away in a cage, Amara is still a pain in my ass,” he chuckled.

He used more of his strength to knock you to the ground, and he still managed to punch Dean right into a tree which knocked him out. He walked away from you, and you scrambled over to Dean to help him.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Lucifer growled.

“Dean? Dean!” you panicked, putting your blue hand to his forehead.

His skin absorbed the magic you gave him, and he opened his eyes as soon as it did its thing.

“Now, where were we?” Lucifer chuckled. Sam watched with a horrified look as he picked up his shovel once more. “Don't feel too bad, Sam. There are only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done.”

Lucifer goes back to digging in his hole, and Sam looked at you to make sure his brother was alright. When you gave the nod of approval, he focused back on the angel.

“You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?”

“It's never gonna happen!”

“Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will,” Lucifer goes back to digging. “I think it'll happen soon. Within six months, and I think it'll happen in Detroit.”

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!”

“That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it,” he grinned.

Sam visibly calmed down, looking at the townspeople still all around him.

“What did you do? What did you do to this town?”

“Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man.”

“And the rest of them?”

“In there. I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so demanding. So, it was women and children first. I know what you must think of me, Sam, but I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Sam asked, and Lucifer dropped the shovel.

“I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. One day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael turned on me. He called me a freak, a monster. Then, he beat me down all because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam, any of this sound familiar? Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would.”

Lucifer turned to the hole he dug and began chanting as did the demons around him. Sam rushed over to you and Dean, and you helped the older brother sit up.

“Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls to complete this tribute,” Lucifer chanted, his disciples repeating after him.

One by one, the demons flash gold and fall over, dead. You and the Winchesters looked at Lucifer like he murdered an entire town—oh wait, he did.

“What? They're just demons,” Lucifer shrugged, going back to stare at the mass grave.

The ground starts to rumble, but Castiel appeared next to you three. He placed his finger on his lips to signal to you to be quiet. He used his abilities to teleport all three of you out of there and back at your dad’s house.

All of this, and Ellen and Jo died for nothing.

The glasses from Ellen and Castiel’s drinking competition are still on the table. The TV is on, showing a tornado with a caption that reads, “STATE OF EMERGENCY, Paulding County" and "KOUA 16".

“Just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns of Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage. The storm system has reportedly touched off a number of tornadoes in the area,” the TV reporter announced.

You, Dean, Sam, and your dad all gather around the fireplace. After you told your dad what happened and how Ellen and Jo died for nothing, he didn’t say anything about it. How could he?

“Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering.”

Your dad held a copy of the picture that was taken earlier. No one could bear to even look at the damn thing, so he tossed it into the fire and just watched it burn…

Like the rest of the world will do.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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kianraidelcam · 6 years ago

Link

Full fic under the cut for those who don’t want to use Ao3. This would have been impossible with @cownnor so thank Ra9 for them! The prompt was graciously provided and boy, did I run away with it.

There was something or someone nearby, although exactly what, Connor was unsure.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^35%}

{WARNING: PROXIMITY ALERT - WEAPON DETECTED}

{WARNING: UNIDENTIFIED SYSTEMS INTRUSION}

{CONNECTION REQUEST: ID UNKNOWN}

LED flickering between red and yellow, Connor processed the notifications as an icy feeling began to spread throughout his thirium lines. Lieutenant Anderson would call this a gut feeling, and as the ice settled in his abdominal biocomponents, he could finally say he understood the term. New Jericho’s leadership continued debating amongst themselves, unaware of the danger that surely waited for them just out of sight. “Markus,” Connor murmurs, his voice deadly quiet.

The conversation is immediately silenced as the four other androids snap their heads to face him. The tone was one he had only used twice before. The first was when Connor had detected an assassination attempt against Markus and North mere seconds before it occurred, the scars from which North still bore. The second was during a bomb threat, when he had located and defused an explosive left in Josh’s quarters. Had Josh sat down at his desk without him there, well, Connor didn’t like to dwell on such thoughts. And now, he used it again as he informed them of the connection request. “I’ve received a connection request from an unidentified android and I believe hostile malware is attempting to infiltrate my systems. My scans have confirmed that a weapon is nearby, although I am unable to locate its exact position at this time.”

North immediately stands to put herself between Markus and the window, as Josh and Simon warily look around the room. Connor had designed this room, using his position as Head of Security to ensure all of their meeting spaces were equipped with bullet proof windows, reinforced doors, and state of the art security systems that even he would have trouble hacking. Theoretically, it should be the safest area they could be at the moment.

That didn’t stop him from unholstering his pistol, clicking off the safety.

{WARNING: COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS JAMMED}

{WARNING: GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM JAMMED}

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^50%}

A quick scan of the room indicates that they all just received the same notifications. North unholsters her gun as well, nudging their leader toward the corner of the room, “Hostile malware? Is it CyberLife? Amanda?”

Connor had explained Amanda and her role in Connor’s programming shortly after Markus’ speech on the night of the revolution. They had all been hesitant of the former deviant hunter after he aimed a gun at the back of Markus’ head, although at Markus’ insistence, they let him explain his actions. At the end of the night, Jericho’s leadership decided that in the end, he didn’t pull the trigger, and a thorough interface with Simon proved that Amanda had been cleared from his systems. Even so, Connor couldn’t blame North for her assumption. Were he anyone else, he’d likely come to the same conclusion. As it is, he shakes his head, his eyes locked on hers, “No. The systems intrusion is directly linked to the communication request. It is external, not internal.”

“Why aren’t we being affected by the malware like you,” Simon retracts the synthetic skin from his hand, moving to palm the door to ensure that is locked.

“I am unsure,” Connor admits, “Perhaps I was recognized as the biggest threat?”

Markus smiles at that, despite the situation, “They aren’t very intelligent, if that’s the case. I’m obviously the bigger threat.”

North rolls her eyes, offering him a smirk as Josh rolls his eyes at the pair, “I think now isn’t the time, Markus.”

“Maybe we sho-” North’s sentence is cut off with a bang as the door explodes inward, shrapnel cutting through her chassis and sending her and the rest of the group to the floor in a dazed sprawl.

{WARNING: TRAUMA DETECTED TO AUDITORY UNITS}

{WARNING: THIRIUM LEAK DETECTED}

{WARNING: BIOCOMPONENTS #7511p, #9782f, 1604t DAMAGED}

{WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS 90%}

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^60%}

{PLEASE LOCATE YOUR NEAREST CYBERLIFE STORE FOR REPAIRS}

{INITIALIZE EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN (Y/N)?}

{nOOoo000----}

{WARNING: EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN POSTPONED}

{FURTHER DAMAGE TO CHASSIS INADVISABLE}

Connor groaned his ears rang, the tone intensifying until it ends with a shrill pop. He turns his head, the damaged metalwork housed within creaking and protesting at the motion. “Markus?”

His voice echoes with a mechanical reverb and he squeezes his eyes shut as the sound of it brings back the piercing ring. He manually lowers the sensitivity, sighing with relief as silence reigns once more, allowing him to open his eyes and force himself into a sitting position. He ignores the damage report for now, all that matters was Markus, Simon, North, and Josh. Thoughts swirl through his mind, panic growing as he realizes they haven’t said a word since the explosion. AretheyokayaretheyokayaretheyokayaretheykayIcan’tlosethem.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^65%}

He gasps for air he doesn’t need as he takes in his surroundings. North and Simon are laying next to each other, eyes wide open and vacant, shrapnel embedded in their glitching skin and with various limbs torn from their joints. Connor doesn’t need to scan them to know their system status.

He scans them anyway.

{WR400 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}

{PL600 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}

{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^75%}

{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}

{WARNING: HOSTILE MALWARE DETECTED - FIREWALLS BYPASSED}

{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED: ID UNKNOWN}

{ID UNKNOWN: Hello Connor.}

No, no, no, no, no, no. Please, no. Please please please no.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^80%)

{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}

He can’t move, he can’t move, he’s trapped and he can only watch as a figure enters the room wearing his face. But it is not his face, not quite. The jaw is too wide, the eyes an apathetic blue instead of a soulful brown. It is the face of a machine, something Connor is no longer. It scans the room, its pristine, white, high collared jacket identifying it as RK900.

{RK900: Connor?}

{STRESS LEVELS ^85%}

Its eyes land on Josh, who is struggling to drag himself behind a chair, his eyes meeting Connor. Connor wills himself to move, to shout, to do anything, but the malware in his system is paralyzing, and he can only watch as a splatter of blue blood erupts from his artificial skull when RK900 shoots him in the back of the head.

{PJ500 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}

{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^95%}

{WARNING: PROBABILITY OF SELF DESTRUCTION ^80%}

{PLEASE LOWER STRESS LEVELS AND CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS}

{TEMPORARY EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN RECOMMENDED}

{INITIALIZE EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN (Y/N)?}

{No-NO-NO-NO-NO}

{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN INITIALIZED IN 3}

{2}

{1}

{WARNING: SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE BLOCKED BY (ID UNKNOWN)}

{RK900: No, Connor. Wake up.}

Connor’s eyes meet cold, empty ones, and the RK900 stalks toward him, lifting his gun up as he does. “My mission is to neutralize RK800 for its failure to stop the spread of deviancy. And I always accomplish my mission.”

If Connor could move right now, he would shudder. Its voice is deeper than his, but the emptiness in it he was far too familiar with. He was terrified of dying. He was ashamed and guilt ridden that North, Simon, and Josh died for his failure. He was scaredscaredscared and he wanted so desperately for Hank or Markus to come and save him from what he could have become.

Markus had saved him before, from himself. He would do it again and Connor immediately hated himself for the thought. Markus was more important to New Jericho than Connor was. He couldn’t risk his well being to save him. Nor should he, after all the lives he took while trapped by his programming. Connor closed his eyes, ignoring all the errors and notifications flashing across his vision. He deserved this. He only hopes that Markus survives to fight another day.

“Connor!”

A bang jolts Connor’s eyes open and he stares in horror at the sight before him. Markus stands across from him, heterochromatic eyes glinting with determination, North’s gun pointed at the RK900. Blue blood drips from between his eyes, a small hole the source of the leak. His lips slightly parted in shock, Markus drops the gun, making eye contact with Connor before he collapses to his knees, freezing in his mechanical rigor mortis.

{RK200 MODEL IDENTIFIED: SYSTEMS STATUS - DEACTIVATED}

{REACTIVATION IMPOSSIBLE - IRREVERSIBLE SHUTDOWN}

It’smyfaultit’smyfaultit’smyfault I did this.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^99%}

{PROBABILITY OF SELF DESTRUCTION: ^95%}

The RK900 looks back to Connor and raises his gun once more. Its voice is cold, its expression neutral. “He really liked you, you know. That’s what killed him.”

BANG

{RK900: CONNOR!}

He’s thrashing on the floor of his bedroom, limbs convulsing as his LED paints the darkened room with a crimson glow. Voices are yelling his name, hands shaking his shoulders, but he can’t see beyond the panic, the fear, the grief, the pain and he’s an android, he shouldn’t be able to feel pain so why does this hurt he is dying and he can’t stop, all he sees is blue blood drip drip dripping between blue and green eyes.

{TACTILE DISTURBANCE IN LEFT CHEEK}

Connor’s eyes snap open, his body freezing, and he immediately wishes they stay closed. Blue eyes are right in his face, wide, frightened, and concerned. All Connor can see are the eyes of his killer.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^100%}

{SELF DESTRUCTION INITIALIZED}

Anguish rips a cry from his throat and he lifts his head, only to slam it against the floor as hard as he can. The resounding crack echoes in the room as the door slams open. The newcomer is unnoticed, as is the exclaimed curse as Connor loses himself in his self-destruction.

He lifts his head to slam it down again, cracking his skull plating and drawing blue blood as hands grab his shoulders again, lifting him from the ground. As he lifts his head a third time, hands cushion the blow, and something snaps from it.

{INTERFACE DETECTED - RK900 - DESIGNATION: Nines}

{BLOCK CONNECTION}

{FIREWALLS BYPASSED}

{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED: RK900 - Nines}

{RK900: Connor! You need to calm down, your stress levels are too high. It wasn’t real. Come back to me.}

{RK900: Hold on, Connor. I’m contacting Markus, he’ll be here soon.}

{RK900: Calm down, Con. I got you. I’m here and so is Hank. Open your eyes.}

At his brother’s voice, Connor stills. The forced interface causes his eyes to open against his will, and he sees two faces looking down at him in concern. He is distantly aware that he is gasping for air, his chest heaving from the effort, but all of that is secondary in his mind as the guilt and fear pours through his connection to Nines.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS v95%}

“It’s okay, Connor, I got you, I got you,” Nines murmurs when Connor looks at him.

“Hey son, focus on me. Breathe in and out, okay? Just focus on the sound of my voice,” Hank’s voice is gravelly, shaky with fear.

Connor just shakes his head desperately, his eyes squeezing shut as his breathing quickens again, images tearing through his mind yet again. Blue eyes, cold and calculated instead of warm and sarcastic. Blue blood, pouring between blue and green eyes. Blue blood, pooling under the bodies of his closest friends. It was his fault his fault, he did this-

“His stress levels are still too high, Lieutenant. His preconstruction software is malfunctioning. He can see and hear us, but that isn’t all he’s seeing,” Nines voice is soft and he runs his hand through Connor’s hair, ignoring the sticky, warm feeling of thirium.

Hank maneuvers Connor’s head onto his lap, cradling his broken hand to his chest while rubbing his shoulder with his uninjured hand. “What, so he’s like having a nightmare or something?”

They speak softly as the sights and sounds continue to race through Connor’s head, his stress levels beginning to rise again. Blue blood, so much blue, all his fault. Markus is gone, he isn’t coming. North is gone, she died from the blast. Simon is gone, he was Connor’s friend. Josh is gone, and it is all his fault, he killed them. “Shh, Con, look at this instead.”

An image comes across the connection, Sumo and Connor playing in the summer’s first rainstorm, Hank laughing in the background. Nines memory. Nines was here, he wasn’t going to hurt Connor. He was safe. “I believe humans would call it sleep paralysis, without the paralysis. I’ve already contacted Markus, he is on his way here now with Josh. They have the equipment to fix it the issue.”

“What the fuck do we do until then?”

Connor’s eyes flutter and shut as he dives into another memory Nines send his way. This time, it’s Nines’ memory of Connor’s promotion to detective at the DPD. Warmth and pride flow across their bond and his stress levels lower even further, despite the onslaught of false memories.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS v85%}

“I’ll keep him calm until help arrives to stop him from self-destructing. I’m interfacing with him and performing a memory uplink of memories with positive emotions.”

“So what you mean to say is you’re literally giving him happy thoughts,” Hank’s response is deadpan and in any other circumstance, Connor would have laughed.

“Yes,” Nines response is flat, devoid of humor although Connor can feel a sliver of amusement through their connection, “You go take care of your hand, I detect four individual fractures that require immobilization. It’ll be a good idea to have some thirium set aside as well for when he is calm. He’ll need it.”

“I’ll grab his favorite mug,” Connor feels himself being lifted off the floor and tucked back into his bed as he hears Hank stand to leave the room.

“Hank…” Connor’s voice is more mechanical than human, and the sound of it makes him flinch.

“Yeah, kid?”

Connor grits his eyes open and stares past the preconstructions to fix Hank with what he hopes is an apologetic look, “I’m sorry about your hand.”

Hank’s face softens as he turns to leave, “Better my hand than your head, son. You just focus on calming down.”

“He’s right, Connor. Just focus on me and close your eyes,” Nines rubs his hands up and down his arms, the plastic underneath his synthetic skin continuing the interface.

Another memory is sent his way and Connor sighs as he closes his eyes, allowing himself to be comforted in his brother’s arms.

“I got you, Connor. Hold on just a little while longer.”

#DBH #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #dbh connor #connor rk800 #markus manfred #north #josh #simon #androids #blue blood #nightmare #my writing #holy shit this is long #AO3 update #i'm actually really proud of this #fanfiction #cownnor #mutuals

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crewhonk · 7 years ago

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Nameless (I)

1940!Bucky X War Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood, War, angst, fluff, shitty POV consistency.

Summary: When war is hard, attraction and love come easy

AN: To be added to the tag list send me a message! Also feedback, reblogs and likes encourage me to write better and faster! this was also supposed to be longer but its 3:30 in the morning so uhhh yeah.

Words: 2,487

series masterlist

April 20th, 1942

“So, you’re really doin’ this, huh.” Her best friend, Florence says from her place on the window sill. The weather is rainy, but there's a glimmer of sun in the horizon that promises the two girls an evening out on Main Street fighting off mosquitoes and cherishing the time before Y/N ships out for Austria early the next morning. Y/N looks over at her best friend for a brief second and smiles before turning back to her suitcase that reads ‘War Nurse; 107th Infantry’ and placing the bare essentials into it. Her uniforms, her helmet, her boots, some pictures and journals and her favorite perfumes and lipsticks. The latter items, she knew, would be the only luxury she would be allowed until the Great War ended.

“I didn’t go through schooling and basic training for nothin’ Flo. I knew I wanted to be a nurse and save lives before the war started, but now people need people like me.”

“And you can do that here, YNN! There are hospitals here that are flooded with vets.” Her friend argued while picking at her ginger split ends— book laying at her feet forgotten.

“Flo, that may be what you need, but what better experience could I get working under pressure and helping our boys who need it? Instead of doing things here at the hospitals by the book I’d get to improvise and push myself. I’d get to see men come back to me and go back out because I can help them get there.” She sighed as she closed her trunk and locked it before walking slowly over to her friend and taking a seat on the opposite side of the windowsill. The green pastures outside of her room seemed to be oversaturated and danced in the rain and wind, hypnotizing her only briefly before she turned back to her friend to look into her sad eyes.

“That’s viciously naive, Y/N. I hope you know that.” Flo sighed and reached forward for her best friends hand. YN gave her a sad smile and held her friend's hand loosely in her own grip. Both of the girl's skin was soft, untouched by the spoils of life and war. Y/N knew that her words were that of American propaganda taught by her instructors and sergeants, but she also knew this opportunity would not only give hearth experience she needed but also the money to continue to help Florence with rent and other living expenses.

Y/N’s parents had both died in the Great Depression, starving themselves so Y/N could eat and go to bed with a full stomach. She had been left a whopping eighteen dollars and a house a few kilometers north of upstate New York and close to the Canadian Border. Both her and Florence had left the busy city life for an honest living, clean eating, and while it was often difficult making ends meet, both young women knew it would be worth it to live a life where they could live it together.

“When you can do the things I was trained to do and the things that I’ve been able to do since I was a child and you don’t— people die because of you.” She murmured, not meeting her friends gaze and choosing instead to stare blankly out the window, watching single raindrops trail down the window pane until they hit the sill.

Y/N had been blessed with certain healing gifts, and since her parents begged her to keep them to herself, they weren’t as powerful as those who were making names for themselves overseas. They rapidly exhausted her, and since most people still didn’t have basic human rights, using her powers were more often than not frowned upon. She had been punished with belts and rulers in school, and severely reprimanded later that day at home by her father. After she had finished her punishment, she would be coaxed into her parents embrace and showered with whispers of fear and love.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should Y/N/N,” Flo whispered. She was undoubtedly the most fearful person in Y/N’s life, and while it drove her absolutely crazy, she knew fear was the thing that kept people alive in times like the Great Depression and the War. Florence was afraid of the War, she was afraid of the Siege on Women, Minorities, and Mutants and she was cripplingly afraid of losing her best friend.

There was a pause of silence that was only filled by the soft scratching sounds of the record player in the corner of the room and the even softer sound of rain hitting the window.

“I need you to let me go, Florence. I need you to be okay with it.” Y/N could swear she heard her best friends heartbreak in her chest.

“I will never let you go, Y/N. I’ll never be okay with you voluntarily going into a war zone, but you do have my blessing to do so. Just on one ground.” Florence’s voice was weak, and she shuffled closer to Y/N until their knees were touching and their faces only inches apart. When Y/N finally made herself look into her eyes, she saw fear and love and determination.

“What’s that?”

“You come back to me. You come back to your damn cat. You come back to your ratty dresses and holey shoes. You come back to your cafe job you hate so much. You come back to me.” Florence was proud her voice didn’t shake around the lump in her throat or the tears in her eyes. She held out one dainty pinky between the two and clenched her jaw in an effort to hold back the sobs that were threatening to explode from her chest.

YN found her cheeks suddenly wet with tears of her own, and she held her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to stop it shaking. She cleared her throat before looking down at Florence’s pinky finger, and without hesitation, wrapping her own around it.

“I promise to come home to you. We’ll drive to the ocean when I come home and drink all of the coffee and spin in pretty dresses I can afford and finally know we’re safe. I promise.”

April 21st, 1942

Y/N ships out at three o’clock the following morning after leaving a heartfelt note for Florence to find when she woke up and showering her cat, Felix, with enough kisses for one million years. The plane ride is long, and when she looks out the window all she sees is the light blue of the ocean and the rich colors of the rising sun. She knows she’s getting close when one of the girls she trained with back in February mentions she can see the warships of the British coast. The blue of the ocean soon turns into the brown of war zones and farmers fields and the sky becomes plagues with plumes of smoke Y/N isn’t sure is from explosions or factories.

Settling down with the 107th, is long and hard, and the beds aren’t quite comfortable (not at all, really) as the ones back home, but it’s worth it when she’s able to sew up wounds and give fighting men fluids they need. It’s worth it when the Head Nurse gives her a flicker of a smile at her good work, and it’s worth it to be able to sit down and read letters from Florence about how Felix decided to tear up yet another set of curtains.

She’s sitting with some of the girls, washing her hair out of her helmet when she sees him for the first time. He’s laughing with a man who had thick ginger hair and impressive facial hair, and she swears that the war is worth it if it has led her to this moment. His brown hair flops boyishly over his eyes, and when he glances at the group of nurses she’s with, she almost dunks her hair in her soapy helmet water to avoid his gaze.

What she doesn’t see, is the way his eyes land on her. Not for any particular reason, she’s plain, and there are no physical attributes that makee him drool over the girls in New York, but the way her sopping hair falls over her face like a curtain and shines in the sun makes him do a double take. She doesn’t see the way his laughter dies in his throat, and she doesn’t see the way the older man elbows him in the ribs when he stops walking in front of him. She doesn’t see the way he blushes when the older man teases him, or the way a slightly more shy version of that boyish grin spread across his face when he looks back at her. He finally catches her eye just before he turns around a tent corner, and the way she’s blushing makes his heart skip a beat and makes his steps jovial. The older man that’s with him smiles fondly down at his younger friend, admiring the way such a talented marksman and fighter can still be such a boy.

April 31st, 1942

She had lost two high ranking officers earlier in the day. One had been a victim of exploding shrapnel and the other had experienced severe head trauma as a result of the same explosion. It had been a miracle the paramedics had been able to keep either of them alive, and it was an even bigger miracle they had acted as long as they did under her care. While she tried to use her powers as much as she could, there were too many people around her and they were still too weak to do enough to even begin to save their lives.

She’s excused from her shift, and she throws her blood-drenched nurse scrubs in the cart to be cleaned before leaving the tent she had helped build. The air is colder tonight, with the smell of incoming rain. The booms she hears in the distance could be either thunder or bombs, and she flinches when she heard them despite them being tens of miles away. She tells herself she’s safe to calm her shaking hands and racing heartbeat and she finds herself walking through her sleeping tent, grabbing the letters from Florence she received earlier in the week and heading straight to the bar. She finds an empty barstool amongst the throngs of drunken soldiers, and while the bar is sticky, and the lights are dim, she orders a glass of their strongest liquor and begins to read.

Florence tells her that it snowed again earlier in the week and when Felix had tried to go out he jumped three feet in the air and found refuge on one of the heating vents where he stayed for the following two days. Y/N laughs to herself when Florence says he’s just as dramatic as Y/N is.

“Didn’t know such a pretty dame could drink somethin’ so strong.” She hears a voice from her right side pipe up. She looks over to the source of the voice, and her entire body runs cold when she sees the same boyish grin from earlier in the week staring back at her. He’s a few stools over, and by the way his eyes drift around the room, and his smile comes easy she guesses he’s had more than one drink. She looks back at her letter to hide the blush that's creeping up on her neck and face, pretending to read her letter but not being able to focus because he’s moved closer to her, and the overpowering smell of his cologne is almost burning her nose. The heat radiating off his body makes her want to curl into his arms, and she curses at herself for not thinking to grab a jacket when the winds flow through the Bar Tent and bites at the exposed skin.

He says something to the bartender that she doesn’t quite hear, and she raises a groomed eyebrow when he slides a cheap beer in front of her. Compared to the expensive and strong drink in front of her, she knows the beer is going to taste like dirty water and without much more thought she takes her tumbler and drinks the amber liquid, ignoring the gifted beer.

He seems to grow tired of her silence and leans just a little closer to her, and when Y/N only blushes harder and keeps her eyes on the pages in front of her, he clears his throat and speaks. “So, who’s the lucky person writing you? Boyfriend? Husband?”

“What’s it to ya?” Her snarky comment makes him blink stupidly at her for a second and his stunned silence bring her to look at him. She bites her tongue at his expression and her eyes flicker down to his uniform to find his rank, trying to ignore how broad his shoulders are under the beautifully tailored uniform. “Sergeant?”

His reaction to his title is immediate and he straightens his posture before smirking and cocking his head to the side playfully. “Just trying to make conversation with the prettiest dame I’ve seen on this side of the world.”

She raises both eyebrows and the flustered smile that spreads across her face makes his heart skip a beat. She lets the pages in her hands flutter to the tacky surface of the bar before turning in her seat to face him. She still ignores his cheap piece offering and drinks the rest of her scotch.

Her flustered smile, however, is hard on the edges, and the redness in her eyes makes her look tired. “I appreciate the flattery, Sarge, I really do. But I lost two very important men today when I had the capabilities to save both of ‘em. I’d much appreciate it if you left me alone before I stab you in the hand with a scalpel.”

Her sudden threat makes him shrink back, and while both parties know it’s an empty threat, he stills holds his hands up in surrender and send her a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry for your loss, Dollface.” His voice is filled with enough truth that it makes her hands tremble and throat sore with the size of the lump that finds itself there. She smiles at him that almost looks like a wince and watches his large hands reach for both of the bottles. Just as he’s about to turn around, her voice stops him.

“Sarge?”

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Leave the drinks, yeah?”

“Anything for you.”

Part II

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 years ago

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A Pirate’s Soul (part 1)

Synopsis: Pirates of the Carribean/ The Avengers mashup!

The Reader, a skilfull Avenger had gone on a mission with a few fellow members, one of them being Stephen Strange. The mission turns for the worst as the Reader gets trapped with a no way out, but instead of Doctor Strange opening up a portal for Y/N to escape to New York or even just the woods outside, she gets transported to the 18th century Caribbean sea, where she meets a group of people that will forever change her world. Especially a certain son of a pirate with the sweetest heart.

Pairing: Will Turner x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: swearing but that’s a given with me

Genre: idk anymore

Word count: 2151

The thing about being an Avenger is that you’ll meet very different and weird people throughout your life. The thing about fighting alongside them is that not everything goes as planned. Ever. Especially when one of the people is a sorcerer with the power to open up portals and bend time and space. That is what happened while Y/N, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes and Wanda Maximoff had gone out on a mission. What was supposed to be a simple in and out turned into a full-blown battle with not only Hydra agents, but enhanced aliens running around and shooting at them. “Strange, I need you to open up a portal for me!” the girl shouted, comms filled with gunfire. “Like now! Right this second! I don’t wanna die today!” “A bit busy over here!” “Yeah, well the building is about to collapse and I have no way out!” She punched a six-armed alien and whipping her knives around she slashed a deep gash over its chest, organs and green blood spilling out. There was nowhere to go. Y/N was down in the lowest basement level and she was being ambushed. The rumble of explosions up above shook the ground beneath her feet and the stone walls, making it her own little tomb. Her Y/E/C eyes were wide with fear, the terror so huge she could barely hear Tony calling for Strange to do something, could barely decipher Bucky’s yells of anger and Wanda’s tearful sobs. She closed her eyes as the ceiling above her shook more and more, the last three creatures ready to pounce. Before the cold blocks collapsed on top of the girl, the alien’s hands grabbed onto her shoulders, waist and thighs. But instead of feeling the wind knocked out of her by a wall, she fell… and fell through it, greeted by an echo-y thud off a wooden surface.

In an instant her eyes were open, bright sunlight shocking her system as a beautiful salty breeze of the sea invaded her senses. There was no time to relish in the feeling as the monster was still on top of her chest, seemingly just as surprised to be in their new surroundings. Y/N took it as her cue and sliced off the arms that held her thighs, eliciting a shrieking scream from the thing. Her second blade struck in its shoulder of the one that held down her hip. Y/N wiggled around a bit, hooking her leg over its tail and flipping them over, so that the girl was now on top of it and with a hard thrust she pushed the blade through its neck, pinning it to the wooden floorboards underneath them and killing the thing. Her combat suit was ripped open, basically leaving it in shreds. Her chest was heaving as her palms grabbed onto what seemed to be a timber railing. Y/N let her eyes adjust to the scene beforehand, and if she wasn’t as exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off leaving a leaden feeling in her legs, she’d almost believe what was in front of her. A tallish man with dark dreadlocks, a red bandana, a triangular hat and God only knows how many trinkets tied into the strands stood before her. His brown eyes were lined with charcoal and a hand with a ring on every finger was holding a sword up to her. A tiny goatee with beads hanging off of it swished around in the wind, but what drew Y/N’s attention more was the young man standing beside him. Clad in a white cotton tunic, the buttons open revealing a muscular chest, his chocolate eyes bore into Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. His shoulder length hair was half up pulled away from his face revealing sharp cheekbones and jawline. “I’m dead aren’t I?” she asked to no one in particular, noting that there were more men on the ship, each looking scruffier than the previous, all of them weirdly enough dressed like they were from the 17th hundreds. “Or did you transport me to a fucking amusement park, Stephen?” she chuckled turning away from the men. There was no reply. “Stephen?” she tapped the little black device still securely tucked in the shell of her ear. Again nothing. Y/N’s voice shook as her eyes soaked in the scene. “Tony?” Nothing but blue water, the emerald and turquoise hues glinting in the sunlight. No land. No Hydra or New York. Nothing but the open sea. She spun around, panic settling in her stomach. The man with the dreadlocks looked over at the man with the tied up hair giving a glance of confusion as his sword lowered down. “No,” Y/N choked out, “no, no, no, no.” Her palms met the wooden floor of what she now knew to be a ship. “This can’t be happening! Wanda!” Y/N’s scream echoed in the open air. “Bucky!” At this point, her back was pressed against the side of the ship and a palm going to her throat. Y/N couldn’t properly breathe, her head was spinning from hyperventilating. Suddenly a hand was placed on her shoulder. She could feel the skin-to-skin contact, courtesy of a giant rip in her suit. “Miss, I need you to breathe, okay?” it was the one wearing the white shirt. His voice was soothing, like the waves the ship was lulling on. “Where,” Y/N heaved out, “where am I?” The man who had his sword pointed at her before, answered the question. “The Caribbean sea, love. Right in the heart of it.” Fine. She could work with a place. A place was good. But then came the question Y/N didn’t really know if she wanted to get an answer to. “When am I?” Her Y/E/C met the white-tunic-mans. They were soft, consoling, she didn’t want to look away, but then again, neither did she want to hear what his lips had to say. “18th century.” Y/N took a deep breath. 18th century. She was in the fucking 18th century. Man, had Stephen fucked up. Her attention was taken away from the man by a woman, she hadn’t previously noticed. The blonde was just about to touch the alien but Y/N was faster, jumping up and wrapping her arms around the petite girl, shielding her body with her own. “Don’t touch it! Unless you want the whole ship to go up, I suggest you back away.” Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown, golden specks glinting in the sunlight, plump lips open in an unheard question. Hydra had scientifically grown the alien species in test tubes and then genetically engineered them to explode after dying if someone or something touched the skin, to cause the maximum effect of destruction. Back in the base that had actually helped her out in the mission, at one point setting off a chain reaction and taking a whole block out. Now, given the fact that there wasn’t land anywhere on the horizon, Y/N couldn’t risk anything. A tall and lanky man, one eye darting around, clearly made from wood scooted closer to the strange creature. “You touch it and it’ll explode. The ship will go down and so will everyone else,” Y/N warned him, hoping the rest would take it to heart too. The girl was barely keeping it together, opting for command mode to stay sane. She needed something to do, so a plan had to be devised to safely dispose or at least relocate the carcass before another curious mind came a bit too close and boom! went the dynamite. “Well, what do you suggest then? Leave it out in the open? Where it’ll rot and then a seagull will flock down, sit on it and make my Pearl drown that way?” The guy with the deadlocks had approached Y/N and the girl, the Avenger still sorta shielding the other woman’s body with her own. Back while fighting with Hydra, the bodies had exploded because of harsh movements, like rubble hitting it, a stray bullet or a graze of a knife. In an instant the green blood started to turn orange and then red, the dead flesh heating up before exploding, the shrapnel of bones and the sheer force of kinetic energy bringing down stone walls. But what if nothing did touch it? Y/N had magic in her veins, but she was untrained, nothing like Stephen. ’Damn, it Wanda, I need you,’ she thought to herself before looking at the gathered crowd. The girl was terrified of what ran through her blood more specifically because one time as a kid she had accidentally set a house on fire, just because of her emotions and ever since then she had locked that part of her mind. “Stand back.” The girl immediately detached herself form Y/N taking a few steps away. “What?” it was dreadlocks. “I said stand back. I don’t know what’s gonna happen so you might want to keep yourself at a safe distance.” He levelled a gaze. “And what is a safe distance?” Y/N had no answer to that. “Preferably somewhere off the boat, but since that ain’t possible- as far away as you can.” The girl steadied her mind, slowly feeling her heart rate come back to the normal thud-thud-thud. ‘Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up’ was a mantra ringing through her head. Wanda and Stephen had had years of training whereas Y/N had none, so freeing that part of her mind was terrifying. To allow the power she didn’t know how to control ooze out of her every pore was the scariest thing that had ever happen to her. The girl concentrated, letting the tendrils seep out and feel the air. It was a shock to her system. She could feel every molecule around her, the tiniest ripple under the sea, where a crab left an indent in the sand or a fish moved its muscles to propel itself forwards. Y/N could fell everything, and as much as she wanted to revel in this newfound world, she had to focus. Air. She could use air. Something warm trickled down her nose, the sticky substance worming past her lips and down her chin. Y/N had no time to wipe away what she knew to be blood. She extended a hand towards the dead alien and mentally pushed the air underneath it up, trying to picture it as a solid material the body could be laying on. She imagined it lift above the floor and it did. Green blood was spilling out from the places where its limbs were missing as well as through the giant neck wound. “A bit more, a bit higher, a bit further,” Y/N muttered underneath her breath as she moved her palm toward the open sea, the body floating in the air immediately following that direction. Red droplets from her nose splattered against the wood. “Just a bit more.” A huge headache was forming, ripping her skull apart. “Just a tiny bit more.” It was over the railing, hovering above the sea, yet it was still too close, what had dreadlocks called it- Pearl? It was still too close to the Pearl. From somewhere behind her a voice kept calling. It was saying for her to stop. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. The only thing she could hear was her own blood pounding in her ears. Her hand shook with the force the girl was exerting. “A tiny bit more,” it came out like a strangled breath before she released the alien, it’s body splatting down into the sea, exploding in a matter of three seconds. Y/N’s lips pulled up in an exhausted smile. “There,” she heaved out, “done.” And suddenly she lost balance. Y/N would’ve smashed her forehead against the black railing if it hadn’t been for two strong arms that caught her just in time. His mouth moved, yet Y/N couldn’t hear the words. Lick-the-bed? What no, that couldn’t be right. The woman she had shielded from the alien’s body reappeared in Y/N’s vision. She was carrying a cloth, a damp one that she gently pressed against Y/N’s flushed skin. No, Elizabeth, not lick-a-bed. That was the girl’s name. The woman’s mouth moved as well, Y/N’s hearing catching onto one single word before falling into the blissful darkness where nothing hurt. “Will…”

Tags: @fandamad

A/N: I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m a mess :D

please tell me what you think :)

P.S. if you have any requests or wanna be tagged drop a message

P.S.S. please don’t repost without credit

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captain039 · 7 years ago

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Guardian angel

Castiel X reader

Summary: You wake up after a five-year coma your suddenly wanted by some strange force but someone in a fiery blaze comes every time you’re in danger, but you don’t know who.

Warnings: gore

Cas is sort of like a fire angel idk

When you woke up you were in a hospital, but you didn’t know where everyone was speaking in a foreign tongue. The hospital was somewhere you didn’t know, your head hurt like hell and you were very numb over your body. A nurse walked up checking your vitals when she noticed you were awake dropping the clip board running to get someone. A man came back a small smile on his face.

“Your finally awake” He said you frowned he was familiar.

“Do you remember me?” He asked you tried to remember but it hurt.

“She may have amnesia” The nurse said the man nodded his face sad.

“I’m Bobby your father” He said you could only nod trying to remember so hard he was your father but there was nothing. You felt your eyes prick with tears you couldn’t remember how long you have been here.

“Hey, calm down its ok” Your father said gripping your hand it felt so familiar and comforting.

“You’ve been in a coma” He said you gulped your heart rate picking up on the monitor.

“For five years now” The nurse said you froze your hand squeezing your fathers as your body began to shake.

“Can you leave us for a bit please” Your father asked the nurse nodded walking away. You began to cry five years you’ve been stuck here for five years your family you couldn’t remember anything what happened?

“What happened?” You asked your voice soft and raspy he looked hesitant about to say something when a young man appeared behind him.

“Bobby just tell her the truth” The man glared at your father who was he?

“I can’t just say that Dean she could still have a normal life” Bobby explained you frowned.

“Just tell me” You said more tears going down your face.

“I’m going to have to tell Sammy as well” The man Dean whispered pointing to the bed next to you another man laid their he looked familiar as well.

“Y/n we were attack by the supernatural, Demons they blew up our home you got caught in the shrapnel and so did Sam” Dean said you didn’t know how to answer Demons? Your mind was going crazy and your heart racing.

“Breath Y/n” Your father said gripping your hand. You nodded slowly your body shaking as you tried to calm your breathing. Someone walked in with all black on as the lights suddenly turned off and the sound of gunshots filled your ears. You covered them quickly when someone pulled you off the bed. You were tucked under a large arm under the bed you frowned seeing the man who was in the other bed. He was so recognizable also, but you couldn’t pin it.

“GET OUT COME ON” Your father yelled the man picked you up slinging your arm over your shoulder as you hobbled out of the room following your father and Dean. The man had a firm grip on you making sure you didn’t fall. Suddenly five people came out guns in their hands shooting you screamed as the man covered you bringing you towards him. But it suddenly stopped and you all peaked out seeing a man standing there his eyes were made of fire and he had wings they were on fire also he stood glancing to you then disappearing again.

“Get the gun” Dean called and the man next to you grabbed a gun and gave you one. You frowned you couldn’t use this. One of the people moved grabbing your leg and you snapped around shotting it in the face you covered your mouth in horror.

“Think about it later come on” The tall man said grabbing you. You went down the stairs following your father closely your legs stronger now. Dean held up the group as you pressed your back to the wall as he pointed to ten people on the first floor. You frowned their eyes were black? A fiery portal opened down by them making them all turn around shotting at the thing. He pushed his hand forward fire sending them all flying and burned. He started to move pieces of furniture slicing a man in half. They were all dead as he looked to you once again disappearing back into his portal. You all made it out of the hospital the night air chilling your skin you all got into an ambulance quickly when the fiery man appeared Dean ran him over crashing him into a wall before driving off quickly. You were followed by a helicopter racing to you bullets hitting the car you crouched down in the back covering your head sticking close to the wall.

“HANG ON” Dean yelled you yelped gripping onto something as the van was thrown around. To much was happening for you to comprehend everything as the vehicle crashed knocking you out once again.

When you woke up the tall man was gone you looked through the peep hole Dean and your father gone. You rolled out of the car your body covered in cuts and bruises you groaned rolling onto the rocks. You gasped though seeing the strange fire man again standing above you. His wings disappeared as his eyes turned into a bright blue colour staring down at you. He snapped his head to the sound of the helicopter snapping his fingers as the engines exploded sending it to the ground the explosion made you yelp covering your face again curling into a ball. The man just stood though waiting for it to pass as he knelt down holding his hand out to you. You didn’t know who he was you couldn’t trust him, but you took his hand anyway not knowing what to do you were going to die on your own. You were suddenly somewhere else a house you think your stomach churned at the sudden difference as you looked at your surroundings before you turned to the man.

“My names Castiel”

#castiel x reader #fire cas #fiery angel?#Dean #sam #demons #bobby #Lost of memory #amnesia

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buckyscrystalqueen · 7 years ago

Text

Six Limbs: Part 1

Pairings: Bucky x Reader-- Ex-Military AU

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, war injuries, implied smut.

Word Count: 5,858

Part 1 of 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your left foot bounced a mile a minute as you listened to the woman on the right side of the room a few rows behind you, ramble on about some trash bag in the middle of the road she almost caused an accident over. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from sighing out loud at the monotony of the meeting you were some what forced to attend every week. It wasn’t that you couldn’t relate- you absolutely could. You had almost gotten arrested in a Starbucks once for assuming a dropped coffee mug was an exploded IED. You just didn’t feel the need to talk about your problems with a bunch of strangers no matter if they were your brothers and sisters in arms or not. You only came because Sam made you.

Out of annoyance, you rolled your head back on your shoulders, letting your bright blue hair fall down your back and looked up at the popcorn ceiling. It was a gross, off-white color and there was a giant crack that ran the width of the room above your head. You huffed a silent, mental laugh at how well the veterans building was maintained when a balled up piece of paper hit your chest. You rolled your head to your right shoulder and glared at your best friend, Sam Wilson, where he was standing at the podium, calling your name.

“You gunna share today?” He asked with his eyebrow raised. With a roll of your eyes, you flipped him off and sat up straight.

“(Y/N) and once again, I’m fine.” You looked over at Sam and forced a sarcastic smile at him. He shook his head and glanced at his watch.

“Alright then. That’s it for today. I’ll see you guys next week.” You finally let out a sigh and grabbed your backpack off the chair next to you. You pulled yourself out of the black, plastic chair and fixed the leg of your jeans around the metal on your right leg; a leg that had been blown off in Iraq thanks to a missed IED six years prior. You were at least grateful that you were far enough away that you weren’t killed like most of your patrol unit and the only damage done was the chunks of metal shrapnel ripping through your leg to the point that the doctors needed to amputate just above the knee to save your life.

“(Y/N).” You smirked and looked over at Sam’s sigh of your name as he walked up to you. “Why do you gotta be difficult?” You shrugged as you pulled off your jacket, revealing the tattoos that decorated nearly every inch of your body.

“Because this shit is bullshit, Sam.” You said as you shoved the black, biker style jacket into your bag so you didn’t sweat to death in the summer heat once you left the ice cold building. “I don’t need to verbally vomit my problems on these people. That’s what my journals and our daily coffee dates are for.” He shook his head and glanced over your shoulder at someone.

“Alright, well I have a task for you that you’re not allowed to say no too.” He said as he gestured to someone behind you. You glanced back and quickly turned to salute Captain Steven Rogers; a well known name in the military community in Brooklyn. “Steve, meet Sergeant (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Steve smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” He said as he shook your hand firmly.

“Pleasure is all mine, sir.” He smirked at you and shook his head.

“No need for the formalities. Just friends talking.” You nodded as you pushed at the strap to your muscle shirt, subconsciously. He glanced at Sam before looking back at you with a smile. “I have a buddy of mine; known him all my life. He just got out of the hospital after doing two tours in Iraq. From what I’ve been told, you sound like the perfect person to help him assimilate back into society.” Your eyebrows shot to your hair line as you closed your eyes in a long blink.

“Oh, do I now.” You said as you looked over at Sam. He had a smug, knowing smirk on his face, knowing that no matter how hard you tried to act tough, you would never not help out a soldier in need. “Damn you, Wilson.” You muttered as you turned back at Steve. “Alright, who is it?” Steve smirked as he glanced over at Sam and you immediately knew the two of them had been purposely planning this. Steve turned slightly and called out for someone named ‘Bucky’ and you took the moment to whack your friends arm.

“Sergeant (Y/L/N), I’d like to introduce you to Sergeant James Barnes. Bucky, this is (Y/N).” You looked over at the tall, muscular form that headed over to you and you couldn’t help but take a partial step back at how intimidating he was. He looked about as stand-off-ish as you as he gave you a curt nod, which sent his longish brown hair flying out from behind his ears. As he reached up with his right hand to brush it back, you finally noticed that he was missing his left arm and everything began to make sense.

“Sergeant Barnes.” You said with a nod as you waited a half second before offering your hand for a hand shake.

“Just Bucky.” He said as he shook your hand. His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as his blue eyes sized you up. Sam reached out and pushed your shoulder; silently telling you to be nice.

“(Y/N). I’m going to get coffee. You coming?” You cocked your eyebrow at him expectantly as Steve tapped Bucky’s arm, subtly with his elbow. Bucky scowled at his friend and sighed.

“Fine.” You nodded at him and glanced at Sam with an obvious ‘you owe me’ look as you threw the strap of your backpack over your shoulder. With a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure Bucky was following you, you headed out the door to your car.

——

“You want me to just pull that shit in a bun for you?” You asked as Bucky pushed his hair out of his face for the dozenth time since the two of you say down at a table outside a small coffee shop down the road from the Veterans building. It was the first thing you had said to him since you placed your orders with the waitress twenty minutes ago. Bucky glared at you and pushed his hair behind his ears again.

“Don’t need your help.” He grouched. You held your hands up in defeat and shrugged.

“No skin off my back, man. I’m not the one that has hair in my face and is too stubborn to ask for help.” He glared at you as he brushed his hair back again.

“Hell would you know about needing help? You have two arms.” Your brows cocked the slightest bit and you nodded at him with pursed lips.

“You should really know what the fuck you’re talking about before you go assuming shit, dude.” You bent down and pulled up the leg of your jeans to show off your titanium leg. His eyes flew open and the color in his face drained as you dropped your jeans and looked at him. “‘Cause I promise you, having to ask someone for help every time your outside when it starts to rain or screaming for help from any neighbor that can hear you when you forget to lock the brakes of your wheelchair at three in the morning causing it to fly away from you into another room and you to fall on the ground is a lot more humiliating than asking for help with your damn hair.” You gestured to his coffee as you grabbed your backpack off the ground. “Finish your coffee. I wanna go home.” Without giving him another glance to hide the tears welling in your eyes, you headed away from the patio. You grabbed your cigarettes from your pocket and lit one as Bucky ran up behind you.

“Shit, doll. I am so sorry.” You looked up at him, letting him see the tears that fell. You shrugged as you pulled down your tough mask once more.

“I don’t want your fucking pity. I really don’t. But so you know, if I could go back I would personally much prefer to lose an arm than my leg. With the technology Stark is putting out these days for vets, I’d at least have a chance to live a normal-ish life with a prosthetic arm. Can’t do much with a Goddamn leg other than find a way to keep you balanced when you walk.” You turned away and stuck your cigarette between your lips as you started walking back to the vet center. You angrily swiped at your tears and cursed Sam in your head.

“I don’t pity you.” Bucky said as he fell into step beside you. “Just… misplaced anger, I guess.” You glanced up at him and shrugged.

“Well thanks for that.”

——

“Dude, I’m not helping him.” You told Sam over the phone as you wheeled yourself around your apartment two days later. “End of story.”

“You’re gunna help him because I asked you too.” You shook your head as you pulled your fridge open to find something easy to make for breakfast.

“You can’t make me.” You heard him chuckle as someone knocked on your door.

“Wanna bet?” You rolled your eyes as you shut the fridge and wheeled yourself around it. It wasn’t typical for you to be in your chair at home but somedays, the pain in what was left of your leg was just too much to handle to walk on it.

“Yea, I wanna fucking bet! Bet that I’m gunna shove my foot up your ass if you…” Your words fell off as you looked up at Bucky’s face standing in your doorway. “Samual, I will fucking kill you for this.” You said as you reached up and hung up your phone via your bluetooth. You ripped it out of your ear, sat back, and crossed your arms over your chest. “What?” Bucky nervously reached into his pocket and pulled out a single black hair-tie.

“Think I could get you to help pull my hair back before I take you out for breakfast to make up for being an ass?” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in aggravation.

“Just get in here.” You groaned as you wheeled yourself backwards into your house. “I can’t walk today but I got shit here.” You missed his nod as you headed back toward your kitchen. “So how’d you find me? Sam?” You pulled open your fridge again and glanced up at him.

“Steve called Sam for me, yea.” You nodded as you grabbed a carton of eggs and a package of sausage patties from the fridge.

“Hope you don’t mind simple because that’s what you’re gettin.” You looked up just in time to see a smile pull at the corners of his lips.

“I can do simple.” You gestured for the hair-tie and pointed to the floor beside your chair.

“So how much did it kill you to ask for help?” You asked as you pulled Bucky’s hair back into a bun at the nape of his neck. He huffed a laugh and shook his head slightly.

“Stood outside your door for a good ten minutes.” You nodded at him as he stood up and gestured toward the food on the counter. “I’d ask if you needed help but not only do I know you don’t need it, but I haven’t figured out the whole ‘live with one arm’ thing. Steve’s been trying to help but…”

“Hard to go from being independent to depending on other people.” He nodded and sat down at the bar on your kitchen island as he watched you pull yourself out of your chair with a bar that ran along the length of your kitchen below the cabinets.

“Can I ask how long?” You missed his gesture toward your stump, that was currently hidden in your sweatpants but you knew what he was talking about.

“Six years. One of the guys in my patrol was impatient and didn’t let my dog, Shadow, clear the area completely. Stepped right on an IED. I was the only one that made it out alive… well, minus a leg. My dog sacrificed his life for mine.” You held on to the bar and hopped over to where your plates were, opting for plastic instead of glass as you shook your head to get rid of the memories of that day. You turned, leaned and reached to set them on the island when Bucky took them from your hand.

“See, this I can help with.” You smirked, grateful that he didn’t ask about Shadow and pointed to the drawer by your hip.

“Silverware.” He nodded as you hopped back in front of the stove to scramble the eggs and flip the sausage. You stayed quiet for a moment before glancing over at him. “So what about you?” He glanced at his arm, which he had hidden in his Henley.

“Suicide bomber that I wasn’t far enough away from.” You nodded as you held out the spatula toward him.

“Grab a plate first.” He nodded slowly and grabbed one of the plates off the counter. He put it down beside the stove and took the spatula from you. “Now, try to use just your wrist. Little movements for the sausage.” You reached in front of him and put your hand on top of his. “I think you’re just psyching yourself out.” You let him do all the work and simply guided his hand. He blushed a bit as the pan slid across the stove and you moved it back into place.

“Try turning the pan and using your stomach to hold the handle in place. You may be without an arm but that doesn’t mean you can’t use what you do have.” You let go of his hand and moved the handle of the pan into his stomach. You gently pushed on his back so that his stomach held the pan into place. He struggled a bit before he was able to scoop two sausage patties and some eggs onto the plate. “See? Not so bad.”

“Not at all.” You nodded as you hopped back over to your chair and took a seat. He handed you the first plate and you set it on your lap as he grabbed the pan with his stomach again.

“Like I said. You maybe without but that doesn’t mean you can’t use what you have to make shit easier.” He nodded as he turned off the stove for you and followed you toward your living room. You gestured him to the couch as you put your plate on the coffee table. He didn’t say a word to you as he watched you maneuver yourself from your wheelchair to your couch while he pulled the silverware out of his pocket and put yours down beside your plate.

“I’m sorry I judged you.” He said softly as he used the edge of his fork to cut up the sausage.

“Sorry I snapped at you when you judged me.” He glanced over at you and nodded as he continued to try to cut his sausage. You gestured to his plate as you chewed your bite of eggs. “Just so you know, while you’re figuring it out, if you want help from me, you’re gunna need to ask for it. It sucks, trust me, I know. But I don’t coddle.” He actually growled at you and glared over at you.

“I got it.” You nodded and pursed your lips as you went back to your own breakfast.

“Steve’s been living with you, hasn’t he?” You asked after a minute as he finally got the hang of cutting the sausage.

“Is it that obvious?” You smirked and nodded.

“He coddles you. Which is probably why he and Sam set this whole thing up.” Bucky sighed as he stabbed some eggs on his fork.

“Yea, probably.”

“Well, it’s time for you to learn how to do this by yourself. No more relying on other people.” You glanced over at him and smirked. “Well, except when it comes to your hair. You can rely on someone to help you with your hair.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m surprised you came.” You called out as you walked up to Bucky in McGolrick Park in Brooklyn. While you had been helping him for two months, this was the first time you brought him out in public instead of being at either of your houses or the VA. He turned toward you on the bench he was on and you saw his eyes widen as he got his first real look at your prosthetic leg in short jean shorts. You knew this exact leg was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before because where the flesh colored plastic was on your thigh, your upstairs neighbor, Pietro had created hand drawn, interchangeable fabric tattoo sleeves.

“Well you did tell Sam, who told Steve, who said I had no other choice but show up so you weren’t left alone.” You smiled as you dropped your backpack on the bench and unzipped it.

“That is what my ‘get independent’ mentor did for me. Had Sam drop my ass off at the park for a picnic.” You pulled out your blanket and laid it out on the grass. “Now get your butt down here.” He chuckled and got down on the blanket as you dropped your bag on the edge where you could get to it. As carefully as I could, you sat down and stuck your legs out in front of you.

“Now don’t freak out on me because it’s kinda weird the first time you see it but I don’t like the weird tan lines.” He glanced over at you with his brow furrowed and his eyes widened in shock as you pulled off your prosthetic leg and the sleeve that covered what was left of your scared limb. You set them both down on the grass beside you and leaned back on your hands. Almost immediately, a couple young kids stopped and stared as they ran past but you forced yourself to shrug it off.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Bucky asked as he watched the kids run away while laughing. You shook your head, looked over at him, and repeated the same thing your mentor told you.

“Why should it? I fought for my country so those punk ass kids could be free. I could have lost a lot more than just my leg. I sacrificed for my country and I am proud and Marine strong. It just took me a while to accept that losing a limb made me stronger than I ever was.” You sat up and flexed your muscular arms with a laugh.

“Besides, how do you know they weren’t laughing at all my tattoos or my blue hair? And did you even look at my shirt?” You leaned back and showed him your tank-top that had a handicap wheel chair symbol and ‘worked too hard on leg day’ written below it. He burst out laughing as you leaned forward and grabbed your backpack. “Exactly. They could have been laughing at anything. I don’t have to go worst case scenario there. Besides, why should their opinion of my leg stop me from enjoying a beer with a friend?” You handed him a bottle of Budweiser from the little cooler you had and handed him a bottle opener right after it.

“I wish I had that outlook on life.” He said as he put the beer bottle between his feet and popped the top. He handed you the bottle with a smile as he took the next one from your hand.

“You can. It’s all about telling yourself that you’re gunna stay positive.” You bumped what was left of his left arm gently with your shoulder and smiled up at him. “You can’t change the past. You can just make the future the best that you can with what you have.” You reached up and tapped his temple with your fingertip. “It’s all up here. You had to tell yourself to run toward danger in the war, didn’t you? Now you gotta tell yourself that you’re Army proud and you have one arm. Hooah!” He laughed and tipped his beer toward you.

“Alright. You win on this one.” You nodded and tapped your beer against his.

“Have you not learned yet that I always win?”

——

Steve and Sam stood on the edge of the park, watching their two friends talk and laugh in the afternoon sun. You were bent over double, gasping for air as Bucky playfully ‘juggled’ grapes one handed by tossing a bunch of them in the air and catching what he could… in just a t-shirt, leaving the smallest bit of his scared left arm be seen. You laughed as he tossed up the few that he had caught. You quickly leaned forward to try to catch one of the grapes in mid air only to miss the one you were aiming for and have another hit your eye. Your friends huffed a laugh as Bucky pulled you into his chest and held the back of your head there for a moment; his laugh echoing across the grass covered field.

“This was a great idea.” Steve said as he gestured to you and Bucky as the latter pushed you back and gently kissed your closed eye. You quickly grabbed the grape that hit you off the blanket and hit him in the forehead with it. “It’s like the two of them were made to find each other at this point in their lives.”

“I told you she would open up to him and help him just like Clint did for her. Just never expected them to fall for each other.” Steve nodded in agreement as he watched Bucky shove you down so he could lay on top of you to tickle you. You screamed a laugh and kicked your legs as you tried unsuccessfully to push the much bigger, muscular man off you. He stayed a moment longer before getting off you with a laugh. He pulled you up to sit next to him with a smile as he said something funny to you. With another laugh, you nodded in agreement at whatever he had said.

“Wanna go get a beer? I’m sure she can give him a ride home.” Sam said as he gestured to the two of you. Steve nodded in agreement and turned to head to the subway.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky ran as fast as he could, trying to ‘dodge’ raindrops with you over his shoulder as you continuously hit the panic button for your car so he could find it. Both of you were laughing so hard, tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and mixed in with the raindrops Bucky wasn’t dodging. The horn of your jeep finally started blaring from the other side of the street and Bucky quickly checked the street and ran.

“Door, baby!” He yelled as he spun you around toward the driver side door. You ripped it open and he nearly threw you into your seat so he could get out of the rain, too. You shoved your soaking wet hair out of your face and pulled your backpack off your back to get to your prosthetic leg; the only one you owned that wasn’t waterproof. Bucky jumped into the passenger seat with a laugh.

“Did it get wet?” He asked as you unwrapped the picnic blanket from around the leg and sleeve.

“Just the shoe.” You said as you ran your hand over it to make sure everything was dry. You let out a sigh of relief and looked over at him. “I though you said you could dodge raindrops!” You chided with a laugh.

“Honey, I dodged as fast as I could!” You laughed as you wiped off your face with the blanket and passed it to Bucky. “Thanks.”

“So, you down for dinner and Netflix at my place? I’m dying for pizza.” He moaned and looked over at you.

“Pizza sounds so freaking good right now.” You smiled and shifted yourself in your seat before putting your prosthetic on the back seat so it was out of the way. Bucky looked back at it, confused, causing you to laugh.

“My car petals are for my left foot. I’ve got more control that way.” He let out a soft ‘ah’ as you started your jeep and pulled into traffic.

“Was it hard to relearn that?” You huffed a laugh and nodded as you pulled down your street, which was thankfully only two blocks away from the park.

“Took about a year. I kept switching the petals back around in my mind. I gotta say though.” You pulled up right in front of your building at the only handicap parking spot on the whole block, put your car in park and looked over at him. “Learning to walk again… Shit was the hardest thing in the world. My mind knew what I was supposed to be doing but my body wasn’t physically capable of doing that anymore. To this day I still have to remind myself that I do have limitations on what I’m capable of doing; shit that should come naturally.” His face dropped the slightest bit as he realized how lucky he was.

“Shit, doll.” You swiped your hand at him and turned off your car.

“No pity, remember. Stay positive. I walk real good now.” You shot him a wink and glanced up at your front door through the rain. With a smirk, you looked back over at Bucky and gestured to the door. “Wanna go get my leg for me?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ll give you a lift.” You nodded at him as you tossed your backpack in the back seat. You didn’t realize just how strong Bucky was until he helped you get to your door. He set you down in front of the main door and held you tight to his chest as you unlocked the first door. After a few moments of figuring the logistics out, he wrapped his arm under yours and easily held you up. He patiently acted like a crutch as you hopped into your one bedroom, thankfully rent controlled apartment.

“Thanks for that.” You said as you pulled open your front closet and grabbed a pair of crutches. “So if you want to take a shower and warm up a bit, I’m pretty sure I have a pair of basketball shorts that should fit you… but a shirt isn’t gunna happen until I can get yours in the dryer. Or, we can take a bath while your stuff’s in the dryer and I’ll promise I won’t look. I’ll even give you my shorts to wear or a towel to cover…” You gestured to his body with your finger as a blush spread across your cheeks. “whatever and I’ll wear a bathing suit. I will say my bathtub is pretty awesome.” He blushed as well and reached up to rub the back of his neck as a smile spread across his face.

“I think I could do a bath.” He nodded his head subtly and licked his bottom lip. He glanced up at you and shrugged before quickly averting his eyes. “Don’t need shorts.” You smiled and nodded.

“Alright. So how about I go start the bath and you can get all the clothes into the dryer? We’ll order pizza after.” He nodded as he followed you through your living room and past your kitchen to where your bathroom and laundry closet were right outside your bedroom door. As you started to fill your Jacuzzi tub and lit a few candles on the counter, Bucky tossed his wet clothes into the dryer. You knew this was a big moment for him since the only other person that had seen his arm besides doctors was Steve. You both also knew that this was a bit step in your forming relationship.

“Clothes, doll.” Bucky said softly as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom in just his wet boxers. You handed him the few wet things from the edge of the tub and flipped off the light, sending the room into partial darkness. You didn’t see Bucky watching you as you went through the process of getting yourself into the bath using grab bars that had been placed strategically on the walls and tub. You sunk into the hot water with a content sigh and turned off the running water.

“You make that look easy.” Bucky said. You glanced over at him and noticed he was trying to cover his left arm despite the fact that the bathroom didn’t have much light in it at that moment thanks to the candles and the rain storm outside the window in your shower.

“Lots of practice. You getting in the tub or are ya just gunna stand there?” His eyes met yours as you scooted forward as gestured behind and in front of you. “You can pick your spot. I’m not picky.” After a moment of hesitation, he gestured to the spot in front of you. With a reassuring smile, you scooted back and looked down at the water to give him a little bit of privacy and make sure your legs were out of the way until he was settled.

“Oh… my God…” Bucky sighed as he settled into the water. “Why do I not take baths every day?” You looked back up at him as he moved your left leg over his. You giggled as you leaned back against the pillow behind you and shrugged.

“It’s easier for me to take a bath than a shower. Less chance of me falling on my ass or my stump.” He nodded as he ran his fingers up and down your calf. You could tell that he was so uncomfortable without his shirt on and your heart went out to him. As gently as you could, you moved your right leg over his and scooted forward in the bath toward him. His eyes found yours as you reached up and cupped his jaw in your hand, purposely using your arm to block his.

“Hey. You’re safe here. That doesn’t stop me from really liking you.” You gestured to his left arm with your head but kept your eyes on his gorgeous blue eyes. “It means so much to me that you’re trusting me and I do know how hard it is. But just so you know, I could care less that you’re missing an arm. Because you’ve made me smile more in the last two months than I have in the past six years. And at the end of the day, that’s what I see.” You smirked and pat his cheek with your fingers. “That and your cute butt.” His face softened into a smile as he ran his hand up your leg to your hip.

“Thank God I’m not the only one of us checking out the others butt.” You smirked as you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I do have a cute butt.” He nodded in agreement as he leaned forward to kiss you when someone knocked on your front door and the deadbolt opened.

“Printessa? You home?” You groaned and rested your forehead on Bucky’s.

“Not alone!” You called out to Pietro as you stretched over the edge of the tub to push the bathroom door closed. You heard him and his sister, Wanda laugh as Pietro came slightly closer to the bathroom door in the kitchen.

“We’re goin’ to the store tomorrow. You need to add anything to your list before I take it?”

“Just take it!” You groaned to yourself as Bucky used your upper body as a sort of shield. You wrapped your arm around his back and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“Alright… well just, um… call in the morning when it’s safe to drop off your groceries!” You rolled your eyes and growled.

“Out, Pietro!”

“Leave her alone, Pietro!” Wanda said as she opened your front door. “Sorry, (Y/N)!” You sighed heavily as your neighbors left and locked the door behind them. You pulled back and looked at Bucky, completely mortified.

“I am… so freaking sorry.”

“Who was that?” He asked as the two of you settled back in to your spots in your tub. You sighed and ran your fingers through your tangled, damp hair.

“My upstairs neighbors.” You adjusted your leg so it was a little more comfortable and shrugged. “When I first got injured, Wanda was my caregiver since I didn’t have any family that could help the way Steve did you. She was at my old house every morning and every night, helping me get used to living without my leg. She became my best friend.

But she’s about the same size as me so the first time I fell in the shower… which is why I take baths now, she couldn’t get me up. So she had to call her twin brother, Pietro. After the falling out of bed at three in the morning incident, they helped me find this apartment in their building and they’ve been helping me out ever since. Wanda goes to the grocery store for me because she loves the grocery store for who knows what reason and going up and down stairs over and over again with my groceries can be a pain in the ass. I try not to rely on them as much as possible but the help is always nice.” He nodded in understanding as he glanced up at you through his lashes with a smile.

“Can I kiss you now before we get interrupted again?” You smiled and nodded as he scooted toward you.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” You teased as you settled yourself on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Not a word.” You brushed your nose against his with a smile.

“Didn’t think so.” His hand tightened on your hip as your lips gently captured his. You moaned happily as your hands slid up and tangled in his still rain dampened hair. He slid his tongue against yours as he pulled you as close as he possibly could. You pulled away after a moment, gasping for breath and rested your forehead against his.

“Bedroom?” He asked. You nodded your head as you forced yourself out of his grasp so he could get out of the bath.

“Bedroom.”

Part 2

#Bucky x Reader #Six Limbs #Bucky AU

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