#Please look at it I spent a lot of time on it 🥺👉👈 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scrumptious-delusion · 1 year ago

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OK, a lot of this reblog is me just reacting to sentences, and it kinda ran away from me in length 😳

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THIS DO IT NOW!!!

first:

After all, you used to have mutual friends, and you saved earth together that one time.

“that one time” so casual, i love it.

second:

Sam held up three fingers with a sly smirk; Bucky ended up rolling his eyes.

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?? I DEMAND TO KNOW!! (please 👉👈)

third:

It’s your eighth time in the loop.

EIGHTH?!?! MY POOR BABY 😭😭

fourth:

Doesn’t matter. Bucky gets stabbed this time, which is even worse to watch. It’s slower, too. “Hey,” he manages to get out, a small trickle of blood in the corner of his pained smile. “Don’ worry, doll, I’ll be fine.”

iris by the goo goo dolls came on while i reading this part, and when i tell you i was EMOTIONALLY ATTACKED

fifth:

“What was that about?” you wonder aloud, readjusting the intercom in your ear. Bucky’s jaw is set again, an annoyed flush covering his cheeks. “Get going, Twelve,” he says and turns his back on you.

YES, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT HMMM?? 👁👁

sixth:

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, trembling. You smash every single item in your room to pieces. They don’t stay broken.

if i thought reading bucky die while listening to iris hurt it honestly had nothing on reading this. my poor, poor baby, i can’t imagine how hopeless and angry and tired i would feel.

seventh: YES SHE TOLD THEM ABOUT THE TIME LOOP!! (sam’s hug btw 🥺🥺) the whole bucky taking her to get a coffee scene was just *pounds fist against table lovingly* ahhhhhh

“That’s not for you.” He smirks and puts the cap back on the sharpie. “Now keep that safe, would ya?”

eighth:

“Crazy?” His expression hardens somewhat, and an irritated flush appears on his cheeks. “Why is it crazy?”

OK HE CLEARLY THOUGHT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE, THE QUESTION IS WHAT???

ninth: imma need you to stop writing beautiful sentences like this -

Now, they’re blue like the ocean and just as alive. You hate that they’ve ever looked anything but.

tenth:

It doesn’t tell you a whole lot to google it, only makes you frown at your laptop. Tell her.

YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HOPING IT IS HE WANTS TO SAY, RIGHT?

eleventh: her side mission of discovering what coffee bucky likes is so 🥺🥺 THE MED BAY SCENE WHERE BUCKY TENDS TO HER AND THEN THEY HOLD HANDS 😭😍😩🙏🙌

twelfth (👀):

Your tears fell in the quiet of a standing universe, unexpected and angry, with no one there to witness them.

reader using her ability to stop time for things like that - to cry and compose herself... it’s so sad? i mean of course she wouldn’t wanna cry in front of randoms but like... it made me realise how lonely she must be ?? has she spent her whole life just breaking down in frozen moments of time, or breaking down and then having an emotionless re-do ?? the people in front of her just having no clue ?? 😭😭

overall: love love love this series so much, cannot wait to keep reading.

time after time [3]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 10.1k 💀

chapter warnings: one last reminder to internalize the premise of the fic, i will just assume you know what’s up from this point on; canon-typical violence; mention of alcohol; some more permanent damage; even more banter

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this chapter has had me in a chokehold for two weeks and i ended up switching some stuff around. the fun never ceases. thanks to all of you for being patient with me, and a particular shoutout to @daisyprouvaire for making this just a bit sadder than i'd anticipated <3

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

three: every day's a holiday

Tony Stark might have sold the Tower back before the Snap, but he’d kept the two topmost levels installed for what was then still the Avengers to stay in if needed. Now, though, you were the only one actually living here while the few people that were left of the team could theoretically use the empty bedrooms while the Compound was being rebuilt.

No one ever did stop by.

It wasn’t meant to be a permanent solution when Happy had offered you a keycard, but it’d been months and no one had kicked you out yet, so you hadn’t really tried to move on. Besides, not a whole lot of people knew about it, which was a plus; and where else in New York City could you get an apartment that gave you this view and also paid for itself?

Still, it felt weird for you to be back in the city. Back in their old space.

Before the Compound, it’d been years since you’d had your own proper place, and while your room there had felt somewhat like home, you’d never really settled.

You went back only once when you got released from the hospital, collecting bits and pieces from the rubble, rescuing whatever little knick-knacks from the past five years you could find; a couple of pictures and trinkets, some books, a battered-up box, a hoodie with ripped seams.

Reminders of what you’d lost and what you didn’t want to return to.

And then, it was this.

Tidying up the dust bunnies no one had bothered with since the move to the Compound, trying to order groceries with expired credit cards, getting a job at the Starbucks downstairs so you didn’t have to ask Pepper for anything else. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous life for a former Avenger, but at least no one recognized you on your own and without the cape. You never cared for it much, anyway. So tacky.

You’d always been good at blending in with normal people. Even if it took another try or two sometimes. It was a quiet life, but you weren’t mad about that fact, you told yourself. You needed it. You deserved it.

You were fine with being useless again.

Of course, the day you decided to switch things up a little and go for that new show Netflix had been promoting incessantly, the universe was done with your laissez-faire style of living. Like a pesky little voice of conscience.

And on your day off, no less.

“You that time witch Steve told me about?”

You turned around apprehensively to find Sam Wilson standing in your kitchen area. He looked different sans wings and glasses, you thought, but no less imposing. Particularly with that raised eyebrow.

“Depends,” you answered, putting down your bowl of chips and giving him a once-over. He was apparently unarmed, but had no right to look this handsome in sweatpants, your brain supplied helpfully. You supposed it was his best attempt to look casual. “You that smartass he told me about?”

You hadn’t officially met, but you knew of each other, of course. After all, you used to have mutual friends, and you saved earth together that one time.

He’d been on the news just the other week, too, giving his little speech to the GRC; you’d been pretty impressed, to be honest. Even had FRIDAY play the “Star-Spangled Man With A Plan” remix to celebrate.

Today, you really weren’t in the mood, though. You just wanted to get back on your couch, watch some reruns and forget about the world at large and its stupid problems. You had enough of the fighting, and you had enough of heroes.

Though, if you had unexpected company, at least you were wearing your nice pajamas.

Sam smiled mischievously. “Care for a demonstration?”

Before you could even take a breath to answer, he grabbed an empty mug from the drainer and smashed it on the floor next to you.

You glared at him in disbelief. “Seriously?!”

Sam cocked his head in a your move kind of way. You raised your hands with a huff of annoyance.

“You that time witch Steve told me about?”

“Depends,” you said, slamming down the bowl of chips on the kitchen counter. “You that damn smartass he told me about?”

“Care for a demonstration?”

“Ah-ah-ah.” You wrangled the mug out of his hands before he had the chance to move, barely resisting the urge to kick his shin for good measure. “You people have a real problem with throwing things, you know that? This isn’t a ball field.” You carefully placed the mug back in its place on the rack, hoping to slow down your heartbeat with a few deep breaths.

“I might have a job for you,” Sam said, clearly amused.

You sighed. Of course this wasn’t just a random visit from your friendly neighborhood Captain America. “I don’t really do the hero stuff anymore.”

“Must be nice.” Sam leaned against the counter, stealing a couple of chips from your bowl. “You know, if you wanna lay low, you might’ve tried for a less fancy hideout.”

“I’m not hiding,” you lied. Sam raised his eyebrow again; it reminded you of Steve. “Just because I don’t go around announcing myself to the world in a shiny suit doesn’t mean I’m hiding.”

“Right. And how’s that treating you?”

You were processing, is what your therapist would have said. Getting to terms with everything that had happened. Finding your place in this confusing new world.

On the other hand, she didn’t know that you had quite literally seen every single thing online streaming services had to offer thanks to having your powers, lingering depression, and no real close friends left. A truly winning combination.

But that was none of the new Captain America’s business, no matter how attentively he was watching you.

“Who else knows about me?” you changed the subject. You didn’t want to have to leave the Tower, you realized suddenly. You didn’t want to have to pack up and leave, again.

You were so tired of losing things.

“No one. Barnes’ll have to, if you agree to do the job.”

“Great.” You rubbed your temples, adjusting the list of people in your mind. It’d gotten to the point of being disconcertingly long, once, but at least the damn wizards seemed to continue to be in the dark. And with the stone gone, they still wouldn’t know to look for you.

Almost without noticing, you reached for the pendant around your neck, thinking.

You had to admit, you’d been bored out of your mind these past few weeks. You could at least spare a few minutes to listen to him. Get your mind occupied again. It didn’t mean you had to get back out there, right?

“What kind of job are we talking?”

If Sam noticed your begrudging interest, he didn’t comment on it. “Have you heard of ULTIMATUM?” he asked.

“Is this one?”

“No. They call themselves the Underground Liberated Totally Integrated Mobile Army To Unite Mankind, and don’t make me say that again because it’s way too long.”

“Sounds like an acronym Tony would come up with.” You made your way to the espresso maker with a sigh. “Do you drink coffee?”

You hadn’t expected to time jump today and the fatigue was already settling in your bones. If he wanted you to sit through an impromptu meeting, you’d need caffeine.

“Make that three cups,” Sam said.

“Upstairs is all clear,” another voice called from the hall, right on cue. A moment later, Bucky Barnes strode into the room, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He’d cut his hair since the last time you’d seen him, you noticed. It suited him annoyingly well.

“Wonderful,” you said sarcastically. “Anyone else in my home that I should know about, FRIDAY? We talked about this, you know.”

“You said to keep out all Masters of the Mystic Arts, robbers, axe murderers, extraterrestrials, insane robots and other threats to humanity, end quote,” FRIDAY told you pleasantly. “Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes do not fall on that spectrum. Do you want me to add them?”

“Maybe later,” you said, glancing at the pair. An entire conversation seemed to pass between the two of them without either saying a single word. Sam held up three fingers with a sly smirk; Bucky ended up rolling his eyes.

“That her then?” he asked, clearly unimpressed with your polkadot bottoms.

“That me then.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Disappointed?”

He ignored the question, but the way he looked at you and then crossed his arms made you decide to put salt in his coffee. “I still don’t see why we need her. It’s not like we haven’t done this sort of thing before, just the two of us.”

“You didn’t see me complaining when you decided to help a psycho escape prison because you thought he could help us out,” Sam said.

“He did help, and you did complain. Non-stop.”

“Because it was a stupid-ass move. I’m choosing allies from now on.”

“That’s assuming I agree,” you interrupted their little bickering session. You’d definitely circle back to the prison break at a later point. “Which is unlikely unless someone finally tells me why the hell you broke in here in the first place.”

“Not breaking in when you have a working key,” Sam said. “If your idea of security is not changing any of the passwords Stark came up with around 2015, you have bigger problems than us.”

“Oh, the lectures do come with the shield,” you muttered, measuring ground coffee into the machine. “Apparently you have bigger problems, too, or you wouldn’t be here,” you said over your shoulder.

“Possibly,” Sam agreed and shook the crumbs at the bottom of the chips bowl into his hand. “Do you have more of these? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“How,” you said, because it was almost 4 p.m.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “This morning my fridge was just emptier than I remembered it being last night.”

You turned and barely caught the last wisp of a grin tugging at Bucky’s lips before his face turned stony again. So he did have more than the one expression. That was intriguing.

“Fine,” you decided, “coffee and leftovers in the meeting room in five, but you gotta carry some of this stuff. And I swear,” you told Bucky, “if you start smashing things, too, I’m kicking both of you out.”

Bucky took his time looking you up and down so slowly that you swore you could feel his gaze on every inch of your body. It was slightly upsetting and incredibly infuriating. Finally, he let his eyes meet yours. They were an oddly bright blue.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You rolled your eyes as you marched past him and ignored the shiver running down your spine.

*****

You’re trying. You really are.

“Can you stop that?” Bucky tells you with a pointed look.

You do stop bouncing your leg. Instead, you start drumming your fingers against the metal part of your seat, the rhythm giving you something to focus on. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap—

“For crying out loud, could you just sit still for five minutes?”

“Nope,” you say, giving him a humorless smile through gritted teeth. Bucky rolls his eyes.

That’s good, you think, starting to tap your foot again. If he’s angry with you, he’s not dead yet, and if he’s not dead, well, that’s a good thing.

It doesn’t need to make sense. Nothing makes sense anyway.

Geez, you have to get out of here.

It’s your eighth time in the loop. You have been through this day eight times, and not one single time were you able to save him.

Nor have your powers deemed you worthy of even the slightest hitch, of even the tiniest glimmer of control flowing through you. No matter how the day goes, no matter what you do, you always go on that mission, Bucky always dies, and you wake up in your bed, drenched in sweat and soot and blood, and dry-heaving by the time you make it to the bathroom.

The butterfly effect has always terrified you, but right now, on an endless day like this one, it might be your only chance to change anything. So you’ve gone against all your instincts, and you’ve tried. Oh, you’ve tried.

“Can’t we do this mission tomorrow?” you ask on day five.

“Nope,” Sam says, because how could he know? “Get changed, lazy ass, I’d like to be back in time for the fireworks.”

You’re back in time for your alarm.

Okay, you think, maybe it’s the timing of it all. Maybe you’re just off by ten minutes or so in order to make it out. So you get changed right after lunch.

“Jet’s leaving in half an hour, get ready.”

You throw the door open. “I’m good to go. Let’s leave in five.”

Doesn’t matter. Bucky gets shot.

The next day, you lock yourself into your room with the music on full volume until Sam virtually bangs the door in one and a half hours after your usual take-off time.

Doesn’t matter. Bucky gets stabbed this time, which is even worse to watch. It’s slower, too.

“Hey,” he manages to get out, a small trickle of blood in the corner of his pained smile. “Don’ worry, doll, I’ll be fine.”

And you nod, even though you know he won’t be. Neither of you are that lucky. Not in this hellcycle.

Next, you pretend to get Torres’ message before Sam is even back from The Garden and you leave at 3 p.m. You actually make it in and out of the facility without a hitch and you almost think you’ve finally done it when Bucky gets hit by a truck in the tunnels on your way back out. By the time Sam and you manage to carry him to the quinjet, mayhem has started, and in the middle of the resulting fight you suddenly sit up in bed, hands still raised as if holding your gun, music blaring,

“Let me know that I’ve done wrong, when I’ve known this all along.”

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize that a stray bullet must have hit Bucky while he was unconscious.

Once again, you reach the toilet just in time.

In other words, you’re way past the point of plausible deniability about your situation. Instead, you’re fucking furious.

You know the only person to blame for any of this is yourself, but that doesn’t change the fact that you don’t even know how you messed up that first reset so badly. It just makes no damn sense.

You activated the time stone.

But the stone is gone. All the stones were destroyed, so how could you have activated it?

Your unintended trip to the astral plane has done nothing but unsettle you. As if you didn’t have enough problems already, now you have to think of moving as soon as you get out of the loop.

Why, after all these years, does this bad joke of a scenario happen to you now?

It’s not like you can google something like “time loop problem” and come up with a list of practical steps to follow. You know this because you did google, and if you have to read the name Phil Connors one more time you are going to scream.

“Earth to Y/N.”

You snap out of your thoughts to find both Sam and Bucky staring at you.

“What?” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“You want a formal invite?” Bucky asks.

You bite your tongue and grab your gear, following them out of the jet and breathing in the sweet evening breeze. It’s usually the last thing you can appreciate about today.

The buildings aren’t visible from where Sam usually lands the jet, but the tunnel entrance is only a couple of yards away from where you’re standing, half-hidden by the underbrush covering this side of the mountain. Today, it’s your next try.

“Hey, Sam!” you shout, jogging to catch up with the guys before they make it all the way up the path. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says, “but without Redwing, we’re going in there completely blind, and I’d rather not serve ourselves up on a silver platter to maybe hundreds of ‘em.”

That’s dramatic. Dozens are more than enough to have this whole mission go south.

You force yourself to wink. “Who needs Redwing if you’ve got me?”

“What did you do?” Bucky asks immediately.

“Your job, Sergeant lookout,” you retort. “Come on, it’s faster than trekking all the way up there.”

A look passes between the two of them. Finally, Bucky shrugs.

“Your call, Sam.” There’s a tone in his voice, one that makes it clear that even though he has an opinion, he’s not going to voice it out loud.

Sam sighs. “What the heck did I expect,” he mutters and you already open your mouth to continue your arguing when he turns and stomps back downhill, still grumbling to himself quietly.

“What was that about?” you wonder aloud, readjusting the intercom in your ear.

Bucky’s jaw is set again, an annoyed flush covering his cheeks. “Get going, Twelve,” he says and turns his back on you.

Your hands ball into fists at the stupid nickname.

He doesn’t use it a lot, not anymore, even though he must enjoy the stony expression it puts on your face each time. It makes you want to shove it in his face, the fact that yes, you can do your part very well, fuck you.

Well, these days, you’re not so sure. So it just hurts.

You push the feeling all the way back down and follow them to the tunnel. The sight of the tire tracks on the sandy ground makes you bite the inside of your cheek again. You haven’t seen them before, only the concrete that covers the floor of the lab. You almost trip when it starts with a tiny step.

“You’re really weird today,” Sam says, a frown forming behind his glasses as he shines his flashlight at you. You squint.

“Didn’t sleep well,” you say, automatically, like you do every day.

The truth is, you can’t remember the last time you had a full night. Bucky dying sends you straight back to waking up to your damn alarm going off, and while you thankfully don’t feel any physical repercussions of sleep deprivation, your mind is exhausted.

And sure, maybe you’re starting to get a bit desperate in your frustration, but what’s the worst that could happen? Someone dies?

The thought inadvertantly makes you chuckle darkly.

“What’s funny?” Bucky asks.

“Your face,” you mumble and he snorts.

“Nap time was not long enough for you today if that’s the best you can do.”

You give him the side-eye. “Don’t drag my naps into this.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“You never nap.”

“I nap often. Passionately.”

“All the five-year-olds on this mission need to shut up now,” Sam interrupts. “There could be an entire squadron descending on us and I couldn’t hear a thing over your squabbling.”

“No one’s here yet, Sam,” you say, dutifully raising your arms, even though you can’t do anything anyway. It seems to reassure him, though.

“I don’t like the sound of that yet,” he says nevertheless, raising his shield as you round another corner. The tunnel finally widens.

“The guards are both upstairs,” you tell him. “As long as we don’t walk in banging pots and pans, we should be fine.”

There are no cameras down here, only in the small lab and the other buildings. You double checked. Makes sense, too, you suppose. Less evidence of whatever they’re doing down here.

“How many times did you jump?” Bucky asks bluntly, lowering his gun once he confirms that the room is empty.

“You’ll never know.” You put your bag down on the table and cross your arms before his gaze, predictably, falls on your rings again.

Sam approaches the containers. “Look at that. What is that?”

They collect the dark blue liquid and you hold your nose at the stench you’ve come to expect, heading towards the computers to make the copy. The monitors are beeping steadily, displaying the usual formulas and data you can’t make sense of.

You plug in the drive and confirm with a glance that the guards upstairs are still engrossed in their card game and unaware of your presence.

The progress bar creeps to the right unbearably slowly, and you find yourself tapping your fingers again. Someone moves behind you to stare over your shoulder.

“You’re hovering again, Barnes,” you say sharply.

“Not quite,” Sam says. “How’s it looking?”

You whirl around, but the lab is empty. “Where’s Bucky?” you say, trying to keep the rushing panic out of your voice.

“Relax. He’s just taking a quick look upstairs before we leave.”

“But that wasn’t the plan,” you almost yell, looking at the monitors again. He’s not in view of any of the cameras yet, but who knows for how long.

“You know I can take care of myself, right?” Bucky says quietly on the intercom.

You curse and start running. “Sam, we have to get out of here fast,” you pant, sprinting up the stairs two at a time while trying to get your gun out of its holster. “Barnes, I swear—”

He’s standing in the door behind the filing cabinet by the time you make it to the first floor with burning lungs, half-turned towards you. “Are you babysitting me?”

“Not the time,” you gasp. “Not '44.”

Bucky frowns. “Forty—”

The beeping sound of a six-digit code being entered on the other side of the lab door has him stop talking. You stumble past him, your finger already on the trigger.

There’s no telling when the silent alarm has gone off, exactly, but there’s a lot more white jackets than the two guards in front of that door, shuffling wildly amongst themselves. It makes it easy for you to take the first two of them down, and you barely notice something flying into the room.

You yelp when Bucky turns you both around and shoves you back into the stairwell just before the entire floor caves in. Your gun drops to the floor as you dive for his hand, but he slips through your fingers, falling through the gaping hole. Barely a moment later, the explosives in your bag detonate on the table downstairs.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, trembling. You smash every single item in your room to pieces.

They don’t stay broken.

***

On day ten, you get drunk.

Because what the hell does it matter, anyway? You crave a bit of nothingness, a void that will make the guilt and anger and sadness finally alleviate, if only for a little bit. You’re so sick of this.

Every time you eliminate another threat during the mission, something else goes to shit unexpectedly. You can’t keep up with what Sam or Bucky are going to do the same way you control your own actions.

It’s this realization, combined with your still slightly tipsy state when you wake up with yet another gunshot still ringing in your ears, that makes you see you cannot, in fact, take care of this on your own. There are simply too many factors for one person to consider.

So really, you’re out of alternatives.

You stumble to your bedroom door just in time for the knocking.

“Rise and shine, Mc—”

“Sam, I need your help.”

He blinks at you, one fist still raised as he takes you in, his grin falling away. “You—what in the—is that blood?”

“It’s not mine.” You usher him into your room and close the door with your foot. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sam says, eyebrows furrowed in alarm. “What the hell did you do, rob an ambulance and take a bath?”

“I’m stuck in a time loop!” you blurt.

To his credit, it takes him a full second or two before he laughs, and even then, it’s short-lived. “You’re stuck in a—you’re serious,” he says, noticing your helpless expression.

Slowly, you nod and hold up the hand with the green circle wrapped around your wrist. There’s a pause as Sam alternates staring at the symbols and your blood-speckled skin while he processes.

“How on earth did you manage that?”

You take a deep breath. “Ten days ago, it was July 4th. The three of us went on a mission—you’ll get a message in a few hours. And I—I somehow just—it went south, and Bucky died. He died, and I got stuck.”

Sam has his brooding face. “Has Bucky died since then?”

“Every single time.”

“That his blood?”

You nod, tears prickling behind your closed eyes.

“And I’m guessing you can’t stop it.”

“Yup,” you say, swallowing thickly.

“Christ.”

To your surprise, he pulls you in for a hug. It’s a bit awkward, because you try your best to angle your bloody hands away from his shirt, but it also makes you realize how long it’s been since anyone has hugged you for longer than a short greeting.

Sam notices your discomfort, of course. “Is this the first time you’re telling me?” he asks.

You nod again and he squeezes you slightly.

“Have you told Bucky?”

A desperate laugh bubbles up in your chest. “Are you crazy? What good would that do?”

Sam looks at you with a serious expression. “I’m just saying,” he tells you gently. “If you know it’s going to be his last day, he might want to know that.”

“But it isn’t,” you protest, taking another step back. “None of this was supposed to happen. If it were, it’d be July 5th, but instead, I’m stuck here and my powers don’t work at all and I—I don’t know what to do.”

You turn on the bathroom light with your elbow and start scrubbing the blood off your skin under the scorching hot water. It’s already started to dry under your nails. Once you’re done, you take a moment to stare at yourself in the mirror. The scratches on your face have almost healed.

Sam is sitting on the edge of your bed by the time you return. “I know he’s taboo or something, but have you tried contacting the wizard guy?” he asks.

You plop down next to him. “Nope. And I’m not going to.”

“They might be able to help you.” They’re only going to make things even worse.

“Sam—”

“I don’t know what your problem with them is, and I don’t need to know. But is it worth more than Bucky’s life?”

Well, fuck.

“Strange found me on my second rerun, somehow. With some weird mirror reality shit,” you admit, clearing your throat. “Pretty sure I pissed him off.”

“Let’s do that again, then.”

“Alright,” you say sarcastically. “Let me just pull out my book of magic tricks that I’ve kept secret until now.”

“You do know the man has a phone and an address in the Village, right?”

There’s a beat. “I … hadn’t thought of that,” you confess quietly.

Sam rolls his eyes. “All of you with your super serum and your weird powers, and none of you have a single brain cell to spare.”

“Rude.”

He ignores you and stands up. “FRIDAY, please set up a virtual call to Stephen Strange in the conference room in fifteen. And tell Bucky to get his ass up there.”

“Yes, Captain,” FRIDAY confirms.

“I hate it when you go cap mode at me,” you mumble.

“I don’t care,” he says, pulling you up to your feet. “Seriously, Y/N. Ten days of this bullshit on your own, this is like the self-sacrificing crap Steve used to pull.”

You scrunch your nose in protest. “I resent that.”

“Good!”

***

“So,” you finish with a slightly manic smile. “Any questions.”

“Several,” Bucky says dryly.

To be fair, you should have expected that.

Filling Bucky in on your situation—on his situation—has to be one of the most uncomfortable things you’ve ever had to do. You don’t exactly relish in telling a man about his imminent demise. Particularly not when he has the tendency to look like a kicked puppy on a good day.

You don’t know what to make of the expression that’s currently on his face. His gaze is strangely unfocused. You’re pretty sure he’s just indulging you because Sam’s clearly upset. He hasn’t stopped moving since Bucky entered the room.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

You fidget around with your pitch black rings. “Because I’m the one who messed up. I should be the one to fix it. Except, I’m really shit at what I do.”

“Stop that,” Bucky says, leaning forward, frown deepening. “Fine. Why aren’t your powers working?”

“I don’t know. Same reason.”

He rolls his eyes. “Does your self-deprecation ever get tiring?”

What a disappointment you are, says the voice in your head. You push it down. “I don’t know, Bucky. You tell me.”

“I’ll stop if you do, Twelve,” he says with a slight grin, his head cocked to the side.

You grit your teeth. “See, here’s the problem, we could do that, but you’re going to forget you said that in a few hours.”

“I’m calling the mayor,” Sam interrupts, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Tell her I’m not gonna do the stupid speech.”

“No, you’re not,” Bucky says. “Goal is to break the loop, right? So there’s only one version of today. One normal version. Or d’you really wanna put your shield on the line again?”

“He’s right,” you say before Sam feels the need to answer that. “I know this is asking a lot, but I only told you so that you’d be more careful tonight. Both of you.”

You can only hope that it’ll make any difference.

“Alright,” Sam concedes, even though he definitely doesn’t like it. “But I’ll drop by Bleecker Street on my way home later. See if they’ll answer the door, at least.”

For reasons you don’t know but that don’t really surprise you, the time wizards have not deemed you worthy enough to pick up their phone. Honestly, you can’t find it in you to be mad about that, despite everything. They probably wouldn’t be able to help you anyway.

“So what’s the plan?” Bucky asks.

It’s only when you look up in the resuming silence that you realize the question is directed at you. You cough uncomfortably, twisting the ring on your pinkie finger so hard you feel it leave a burn.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“Walk us through it,” Sam says, looking at his watch and exchanging a glance with Bucky. “We have about four hours until I leave. Maybe we can get somewhere with this.”

You’re about to nod when Bucky stands up, tilting his head for you to follow him. You do, slowly, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling like he’s about to shout at you in private. Instead, he pulls his jacket on.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“We are getting you coffee,” he says, shoving a pair of your shoes that are lying on the floor next to the coat rack in your direction. “You look like you’re about to drop down dead, and Sam’s right. We need to know what’s gonna happen.”

You bite the inside of your cheek while you stand next to him in the elevator. It should be discomforting, the way he’s able to read you without ever needing multiple tries, and it is, most of the time, but today …

You’re so tired.

“I need you to promise me something,” Bucky says, clearing his throat. You look at him expectantly. “If this still goes wrong today—”

It tears at you. “Bucky—”

“—you tell me first the next time, alright,” he continues, ignoring your interruption. He keeps staring at the elevator doors. “Not Sam, not anyone else.”

You want to tell him it isn’t going to go wrong anymore, but you’ve never been able to lie to him. So you hold up your pinkie finger and murmur, “Okay.”

The entrance hall of the Tower is mostly empty, but the streets are starting to get busy, people heading towards the nearby train station or walking their dogs. The steady buzz of traffic does wonders for your aching head.

“You should tell me something I couldn’t possibly know about you unless you told me yourself,” you say as you’re waiting in line at Starbucks.

You can feel Bucky staring at you for a long time, sizing you up. “No,” he says, finally.

“I’m not gonna be able to convince you if Sam doesn’t vouch for me,” you huff. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You roll your eyes and move up to the register, waving hi to your fellow partners and ordering your usual after some delightfully normal small talk. “What do you want?” you turn to Bucky.

“Coffee.”

“What kind?”

“Just … coffee.” You’d be more annoyed at his answer if he didn’t look genuinely confused.

“Drip, then?” your coworker Lucy offers helpfully, reaching for a paper sleeve.

“Sure,” Bucky shrugs, again somewhere else entirely with his mind. “Can I borrow your pen for a second?”

She hands it to him and swipes your member card. “You working this weekend?” she asks you.

“Not ‘til Wednesday,” you say, signing your receipt.

“Boo, lucky. I should go down with my hours, too. I feel like I’m in every day.” She spots the person behind you getting antsy and sighs. “Hi, welcome to Starbucks, what can I get started for ya?”

“Why do you need a pen?” you ask Bucky while you’re waiting.

“You stay the same when you go back, right? That hasn’t changed?”

You frown at the odd question. “I mean, I wake up in yesterday’s pajamas every day, but I’m also still covered in your blood, so, kind of?”

Treating your situation with a little sarcasm is your only way of coping right now; thankfully, Bucky isn’t so different in that regard.

He nods, uncapping the sharpie. “Give me your hand.”

The request stuns you so much you don’t even ask him why, letting him pull you closer by the wrist, his bare fingers curling around your arm just above the green circlet of time runes for only a moment.

You could count the times Bucky has touched you skin to skin on one hand, but on every instance he does, it’s with a strange ease, as if he were doing it all the time. It sets your nerve endings on fire, though. The cool of his vibranium arm makes the tiny hairs in your neck stand up.

You’re just not used to it, is all.

He writes something on your inner arm, right below the elbow, and you turn your head to try and make out the scrawled letters.

“Nose led what?”

“That’s an F,” Bucky says, a faint blush on his cheeks, but he keeps writing. “No self-deprecation. That goes for both of us.”

Touché. If the note stays through the loop, he’s not going to be able to deny his own handwriting tomorrow. You squint at the rest of it. “What does that say?”

“That’s not for you.” He smirks and puts the cap back on the sharpie. “Now keep that safe, would ya?”

“Is that Russian?” you ask, almost twisting your neck while balancing your coffee with the other hand.

“Ask me tomorrow,” Bucky says, taking a sip of his own drink. His mouth twitches downwards involuntarily. “And don’t just google it.”

You definitely want to google it, but his reaction distracts you just enough. “You know you’re not supposed to make that sort of face when you drink coffee, right?” you say, hiding your amusement behind your own cup.

“I’m not making a face.” He makes it again and you grin.

“You totally are.” It’d be almost endearing if it weren’t Bucky. “Have you ever tried drinking coffee literally any other way than,” you gesture at his black bean water, “that?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I’m just saying!” You close your eyes at the cool gust of air that hits you when you reenter the Tower. “It’s the little things, sometimes.”

“Guess so,” Bucky says absently, and doesn’t speak again for the entire elevator ride.

Somehow, that’s the moment that flashes through your mind hours later, when there’s a wound in his chest that won’t stop bleeding. That little downwards curl of his lips when he drinks his coffee.

You’ve never noticed it before.

***

“Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

You watch him hang up the piece of cloth and turn his back. For some reason, your heart is racing.

He’s not going to believe you. You’re just not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“Hey, Bucky?” He’s almost at the door by the time you make yourself open your mouth, half-turning as you awkwardly shuffle closer, tugging at your sleeve. You wish there’d been time to wash the sweat off before you had this conversation, but okay. “I have to tell you something and it’s going to sound strange, but I promise I’m not leading you on.”

Bucky stares at you expectantly. “Okay …?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Considering the, you know, everything about me, this might not be a surprise as much as … I don’t know, a shock, maybe?” You feel like this went better yesterday. You definitely didn’t ramble this much. “I mean, it’s a crazy situation even for me, but I’m just going to tell you anyway. I’m in—”

“Crazy?” His expression hardens somewhat, and an irritated flush appears on his cheeks. “Why is it crazy?”

You laugh nervously. “Trust me, you’re gonna think so, too.”

Bucky continues frowning, his eyes fixated on something behind your head. Fine, you think, here goes nothing.

“I’m stuck in a time loop.”

Several things happen on Bucky’s face in such rapid succession that you can’t quite make them out. In the end, he settles on his eyebrows tilting upwards in confusion. “Sorry, could you say that again?”

“I told you it sounds insane. But I’m stuck in a time loop.” You drag your sleeve up, careful not to smudge the ink on your skin even more. “Look, this is your handwriting.”

“How?” Bucky says lowly, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I mean, how long?”

“This is my twelfth July fourth.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I tried resetting—something, and it backfired. And now I’m, well … stuck.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, contemplating you for a couple of seconds. “Why are you telling me?” he asks finally.

“Because—” The words get stuck in your throat when he looks at you like that. The last time you’ve seen his eyes, they were unfocused, empty. Now, they’re blue like the ocean and just as alive. You hate that they’ve ever looked anything but. “Because later today, you are going to die,” you finish quietly.

Bucky blinks. And then he does nothing at all, he just keeps staring at you, blankly. It makes you squirm.

“I swear, I’m not—pulling a horrible prank on you or anything, I just—”

“I believe you.” There’s nothing in his voice, not even a hint of emotion.

You turn your head away to inconspicuously rub your eyes dry. “Good, that—that’s good,” you manage.

“How did it happen?” He sounds so matter-of-fact it makes you want to scream.

You push it down. “It’s different each day. First couple times you got shot. Yesterday—yesterday you took a knife.” You don’t tell him it was because of you again. You can’t.

“That’s not … Okay.” Bucky takes a breath, taking a small step backwards so he leans against the door. “So are we getting attacked or …”

“There’ll be a mission later. In a couple of hours.”

He nods, not meeting your eye. “Good.”

Something inside you shatters. “Good?”

“It gives us time to come up with a plan. What about you, and Sam?” His hands ball into fists. “Are you going to get hurt?”

“We’re fine,” you nearly snap. How is he not grasping this? “You’re not.”

“Have you told him?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest. “Not as far as he remembers.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, nodding slowly. “Don’t. He has enough to worry about. We’re gonna work this out.”

“The two of us?” you say skeptically. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like it’s gonna work out great.”

He heaves a sigh and pushes the door open, eyes slowly dragging over your frame. “It’ll have to,” he says, and there’s something strange in his voice that makes you soften a bit.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say, but it doesn’t soothe your nerves, either. “It’s something about that mission, I think. ‘Til then, you’re gonna be …” You trail off.

There’s the tiniest bit of a crooked smile in the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “Guess it’s finally time to pick up fire-eating.”

“No time like the present,” you agree half-heartedly.

“Right.” His frown is still more determined than worried as his gaze trails back to your arm again, one foot in the doorway. “Listen, there’s actually something I should …” You can see the gears in his head turning, but he trails off, shaking his head. “Go shower, Twelve.”

The door closes behind him before you can ask what that was about.

You wash the sweat and grime off under the hot water, but you’re careful to stick one arm out of the stream. The ink smears only a little.

***

Four more days pass something like this: You tell Bucky, who makes you promise not to say anything to Sam, and then you fail to change anything of significance. Hours of research amount to nothing more than finding out the keycode to open the wall on the first floor. It’s somewhat of a relief. Ever since the ceiling incident, you haven’t been keen on moving through the tunnels unless absolutely necessary.

It doesn’t help that Bucky keeps acting shifty whenever you show him his handwriting.

You wait two days before you get a hand mirror and awkwardly copy down his letters. It’s not a long phrase, only two words: скажи ей. It doesn’t tell you a whole lot to google it, only makes you frown at your laptop. Tell her.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” you test the following morning. The letters have started to fade, no matter how careful you are.

Bucky doesn’t meet your eyes when he says, “Not now.” He doesn’t mention it again later.

And then there’s the coffee.

You don’t tend to vary a lot with your own order, or with Sam’s, who really prefers the iced teas anyway, but introducing Bucky to different ways of taking his coffee is the one part of your day you’re allowing yourself a little lightness.

At heart, you’re a problem-solver, and right now, this seems like the only problem you have any control over.

He likes caramel, but doesn’t prefer it over vanilla. Texture is more important to him than temperature, and you find out he likes oat milk almost by accident. It’s a tiny victory.

The rest still sucks.

“We need to find these damn cameras,” you tell Bucky as you kick Riff in the head. “Maybe if they don’t see us coming, they don’t send a whole squadron at once.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” Sam’s voice sounds through the comms.

“We stayed out of the cameras’ range,” Bucky shouts over the cacophony of shots hitting the shield. “That’s not our problem.”

Damnit. If it’s not the cameras, either, something else entirely must trigger the alarm. Another idea down the drain. “Now!”

Down goes the blaster gun, quickly followed by your friend with the knife. Your heart is beating in your throat. Less than two minutes until the computers blow, and then the timing game truly begins. “Let’s move!” you say. “Just stay close to me.”

The copy. The explosion. Blaster gun getting back up. Jesse James by the far wall. The idiot with the explosives near the tunnel entrance. It’s like the most depressing clockwork on the planet, tuned precisely to the second. You get a bit farther each time you rewind it, but as soon as you’ve taken care of all the eventualities you’ve encountered, you enter dangerous waters.

Because as soon as you shoot your last checkpoint, anything could happen. And the not knowing is what’s killing him.

Bucky is walking ahead of you, his heavy breaths the only sound reverberating off the tunnel walls. The silence makes you want to scream, but you just bite your lip raw and keep your finger on the trigger, wearily watching the ceiling, the dancing shadows along the walls, his back. Every step further into the unknown has you more on edge.

When you hear a swooshing sound, you raise your gun instantly, but Bucky holds his hand over the muzzle. The fact that it’s the right one makes you freeze.

“Why the hell aren’t you answering me?” Sam yells at you, and a cloud of dust whirls up when his feet hit the floor heavily. “I thought you were dead!”

“Not quite yet,” Bucky murmurs, throwing him the shield back without a glance, without stopping for a second.

You lower your gun. “Comms broke,” you say shortly, daring another look over your shoulder. Still nothing. “I thought you were getting our ride ready.”

“I was, before the two of you went radio silent on me,” Sam grumbles, reattaching his shield. “I took another look uphill, too, there’re even more heading down here.”

And don’t you know it. Your steps quicken somewhat.

Another turn and you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, catch a stripe of reddish twilight in the distance that makes your heart beat even faster. Just as you’re about to dare a sigh of relief, you can see Bucky’s shoulders tense out of the corner of your eye.

You don’t think, moving purely out of instinct. You dive towards him, throwing your own body over his side as if it could be enough of a barrier against this curse. He tumbles, metal arm automatically clenched around your waist.

Not again. Not when you’re so close you can smell it.

You don’t even know where the shot comes from. All you know is the pain exploding in your side.

Even without your doing, time passes so terribly slowly.

Your mouth is opened wide, even though no sound comes out. Sam shouts something, but you can’t make out his words. The only thing you can focus on is the blood slowly spreading on Bucky’s vest, and his eyes, wide and wild. He catches you as your knees buckle.

“Y/N!” Your name falls from his lips like a cry.

There are at least five more shots before your world goes dark.

And then you gasp awake, blinking at the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Your hands fly to your side and you bite down a whimper at the searing pain. For once, it’s your own blood covering your palms when you carefully lift up your top to inspect the wound. The bullet seems to only have grazed you before lodging itself into Bucky, but you’re still bleeding profusely.

Stumbling to your bathroom, you grab the first clean towel you can find and hold it under a stream of warm water before applying pressure. Tears well up in your eyes at the sting. The music keeps going and going, but you still stifle your sobs in your shoulder. And then—

“Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

You take a few unsteady breaths, trying to free your blocked nose. “I don’t feel so good today, Sam!”

Your bedroom door opens and you quickly slam the door to your tiny bathroom shut with your foot before he sees you.

“Come on, Y/L/N,” you hear him right outside your door. Inches away from you, and from your bloody bed sheets. “You already bailed on our run yesterday, don’t leave me hangin’ again.”

You almost laugh through gritted teeth. For you, it’s been a good month since you went with him on one of your weekly runs. Last Thursday, you’ve given some whimsy excuse you can’t even remember anymore; that was only yesterday.

“Sorry,” you say, your voice wobbling a bit. “I’m not feeling so hot today.”

There’s a prolonged silence on the other side and you can’t decide if you’re silently begging him to leave or to come in, pressing the towel into your side so hard it almost makes you sick. The music turns off.

A rustling noise has you blink through your tears, staring at the door as if you could will a window into it. It’s followed by some soft thumps and more swishing, before you hear steps stop in front of the bathroom again.

“I’ll make you a hot water bottle,” Sam says gently. “Do you need anything else?”

You press the back of your hand against your mouth to muffle your whimper. The green symbols sting your nose. “No,” you manage softly. “Thank you.”

Surely, the universe is laughing at you.

When you emerge from the bathroom, an improvised towel tourniquet wrapped around your torso, you find your bed made. Sam must have stripped your bloody sheets and stuck them in the laundry basket. The gesture almost makes you start crying again.

It doesn’t seem like it’s the first time he’s done something like this, but it’s the first time he’s done it for you. You think about Sarah, and you can’t help but wonder when he’s going to see her again. If he’s ever going to see her again.

You stopped changing your sheets days ago. It’s always the same ones when you wake up.

Almost unconsciously, you find yourself drawn towards the shelves on the other side of your room. The book is still there, still mocking you with its cheerful cover. No matter how many times you put it away, it always ends up in the wrong spot. Your fingers trace the broken spine. The Wind in the Willows.

I’ll be here when you’re done acting like a child.

Your throat constricts when you realize there might be only one way out of this.

***

You don’t know how long you stand there, gaze unfocused, trying and failing to think of any other solution. The only other one you have left is Sam, and you first have to convince Bucky to tell him. Despite it all, you’re not about to start breaking promises.

When you open the door to your bedroom, you’re greeted by a whining ball of fur.

“Not now, Alpine.”

She meows at you pitifully, running around your legs repeatedly until you almost trip up the stairs.

“You are a hellcat from hell,” you murmur, picking her up with one hand, wincing at the stretch. Immediately, she digs her claws into your forearm and you hiss. “Fine. Fine! You brought this on yourself,” you tell her and carry her out to the hall, not too gently putting her down and locking her out of the living area.

You have more urgent things to take care of than Bucky’s stupid, egotistical piece of work of a cat.

“Hey.”

You flinch and then curse quietly at the stabbing pain just below your ribs.

“Sorry.” Bucky strolls a bit closer, his steps louder now, before he leans against the wall next to you. “You look like shit.”

You make yourself look at him. This is the part that somehow never gets any easier. His eyes are so blue in the morning light, his hair auburn at the tips. “I need to talk to you.”

The letters on your arm have almost faded into nothing, but he still believes you.

“What about you, and Sam?”

Always that question. “We’re fine,” you say, like you always do, but he’s too good at reading you. The way you hold yourself, the faint tear tracks you haven’t washed away, the bulky shirt you barely managed to button with one hand.

His expression hardens and softens at the same time. “Where?”

“Don’t—” you start, but the blood loss makes you dizzy, and his eyes drag you under like a current. You’re so tired.

“Tell me.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you as you lift up your shirt, careful not to touch your makeshift bandage. It’s not working very well, the red tinge on the towel still growing at a sickening rate. Bucky curses under his breath.

You’re not sure how you get to the med ward in only a few seconds, but you’re still dazed when he loosens his grip around you and starts rummaging through the cupboards.

“Don’t get up,” he says sternly, and you drop your head back on the cot.

So damn useless.

“This is gonna hurt, doll,” Bucky says before peeling the towel off your skin in one smooth move.

Turns out he’s right. Your fingers dig into your thigh, your teeth clenched tightly.

“Did you disinfect this at all before you mummified yourself?” Your tense silence is answer enough. “Oh, for the love of god.”

Despite the sharpness in his tone, his fingers are surprisingly soft against your skin as he skilfully, methodically cleans out your wound and applies a fresh layer of gauze. It makes your eyes water.

It’s only when he’s finished with your new tourniquet and he sits down on the floor in front of you that you notice the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Bucky’s jaw doesn’t unclench with his mirthless chuckle. His wild ocean eyes remain fixed on your side. “This is because of me,” he says, and you can almost taste the undercurrent of loathing in his words.

“That’s not true.” This is no one’s fault but your own.

“Not worth that.”

“Hey,” you say, and the edge in your voice makes him look at you. “The ‘no self-deprecation’ thing wasn’t my idea, so I’d appreciate you sticking to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Well, tough,” you say after a beat. “‘Cause that’s just how it is.”

You count the ticks of the clock outside until you lose track of the numbers before you commit to your decision. “I’m going to talk to Strange.”

Bucky presses his lips together. “Are you sure?”

“No, but I’m out of my depth.” Laughing still hurts. “And we’re going to tell Sam.” You can see him open his mouth, so you continue talking before he can protest. “I promised that I would tell you first, and I’ve done that. We’ve been at this for almost a week, I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t fucking do it anymore.”

Hot tears threaten to spill and you turn your head towards the ceiling in angry embarrassment.

“We can’t do this alone, we don’t work together, we don’t, we—we need Sam. Maybe he can think about something we don’t. But I’m tired, Buck. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a weight to it that makes your insides ache.

“Me too.”

You’ve never felt so powerless in your life, but you still reach out to him, slowly, your hand shaking. He interlaces his fingers with yours calmly, easily, and the warmth of it travels up all the way to your cheeks.

*****

“They do have a point,” you said, scrolling through another news article about ULTIMATUM. You’d changed into slightly more dignified clothes and were now perched over your phone in one of the leather office chairs in the meeting room, knees tucked under your chin, your second cup of coffee perilously balanced on the armrest.

“So did Karli Morgenthau,” Sam said. “Doesn’t mean the way they go about making it is right.”

You hummed in agreement, zooming in on one of the pictures. The girl in the white jacket in its center wasn’t Karli, but she did remind you of her. She had the same defiant hold of her chin that you’d seen on the news so many times, the same soft, angry way of holding herself. The reporters had picked up on it, too. They didn’t know her name yet, didn’t even know if she was going to try to fill her footsteps or if it was a mere coincidence that made her the focal point of the photographs, but they’d still resorted to calling her the New Flag Smasher.

As if they were all the same.

“What I still don’t get is why you would need me. I mean, he’s right.” You nodded at Bucky. “You have done this sort of thing before. I haven’t.”

“You’ve done a pretty decent job at these kinds of extraction missions in the past, though,” Sam said. “And unlike Sergeant Grumpy Cat over here, I’m still a full-time human with a will to live. I don’t trust the methods these people use, so we could use an extra pair of hands.”

The irony of his phrasing didn’t escape you.

“So I’m your worst-case solution,” you clarified. “Charming. How do you even know you can trust me? We don’t know each other, I’m sure there’s other people, better agents you can—”

“Steve did.” It was Bucky who said it, and the surprise made you stop talking. “Trust you.”

“And what does that matter? Steve’s gone.” You dug your nails into your palms so hard it hurt. “They’re all gone, so what difference does it make, really, if he trusted me, or didn’t, or you do. The world’s gonna keep moving either way, and we still can’t change that. I can’t change that.”

“So what’s your—”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. When you held it, so did the world. Sam’s hand froze mid-air, his sentence unfinished, and Bucky became even more still, his face turned towards the floor.

Your tears fell in the quiet of a standing universe, unexpected and angry, with no one there to witness them. It took you a few minutes to calm down again, to rub at your cheeks until your eyes finally dried up again. In the silence, you realized something, almost through a haze.

With one last critical look at your reflection on your phone screen, you released your hold and everything started to move again. Sam grabbed his mug, the same one you’d kept him from breaking earlier.

“—plan, then?” he finished his question calmly, taking a sip. “Do nothing instead, because nothing matters?”

“He’s put you up to this, hasn’t he?” you said tonelessly. “Steve. You said he’s the one who told you about me. What else did he say?”

“To remind you you still owe Captain America a favor,” Sam answered.

Of course he’d done that.

You sat in silence again, but this time the AC kept whirring and Bucky kept tapping his mug with his metal fingers, the coffee untouched. It was a breathing kind of quiet.

“Well, good thing Walker’s out of a job, then.” You took another breath and reached for the coffee pot. “What do you need me to do?”

“What is it you can do, exactly?” Bucky asked.

You looked at Sam. “What did you tell him?”

“That you’re a trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with the kind of abilities we can use,” he replied, a sly smile on his face. At least he stuck to the official story.

You contemplated the pair of them. They were both good men, trustworthy, loyal; according to Steve, at least. Then again, you’d never had cause to doubt his judgment before.

Well. Not until the end.

“What I can do stays between us,” you said finally, crossing your arms. “That’s my one condition.”

Sam knew already, anyway, so it was really up to Bucky. He leaned forward on his elbows, vibranium fingers interlocking with his flesh ones, blue eyes narrowed in on you. “To do what, exactly?”

“Save you a few broken bones and bullet wounds.” You clearly intrigued him, and you couldn’t quite hide the smug look spreading on your face. “What do you say, Barnes? Think you can trust me?”

chapter four

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186 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 3 years ago

Note

happy 3k queen can we celebrate with soft javi please?

imagine getting caught in a tropical rain storm and y’all are being silly in the rain 🥺👉👈

soft Javi 🥺🥺 I might’ve made this sickeningly sweet so beware.

kiss me more - Javier Peña x gn!reader (no use of gender specific terms)

word count: 547

gif: @azertyrobaz

It’s been pouring like crazy over the past hour with no sign of stopping. But you didn’t care.

Surprisingly – or not – you had the most perfect evening you could’ve asked for with the most questionable man you’ve ever known. A man you once thought of as too stubborn and hard to allow into your heart, now turned attentive and sensible. Truth was, Javier was too caring, too passionate about certain things and too protective over his loved ones, and turning into the A class asshole offered him protection and a certain peace of mind.

It wasn’t easy to maintain that façade with you though; you had seemingly infiltrated his mind and heart alike, allowing him no rest, no catching his breath. All he could think about was you, like you had turned into the air he was breathing. While it took him a lot of getting used to, all of these new habits and emotions, everything coming over him at once like a tidal wave, he was more than willing to give this blossoming relationship a chance. He was far from the torment he had endured in Colombia and his DEA days were gone. It was just him and you now.

You were somewhat surprised when he proposed taking a walk after dinner instead of a cab and the regular dessert back at either one of your places. It was still raining, but the two of you walked without a care in the world. You were holding onto his arm, glancing every once in a while at him and smiling.

“What?” he asked once he caught your eye, fairly amused himself.

“You look pretty wet.”

“Funny, I usually say that about you.”

Chuckling to hide your flattery, you held even tighter to his arm, as if afraid to lose him in any way. truthfully, you had been afraid to lose him more often than not, perhaps because you were fully aware of his past and his tendencies.

But Javier stayed. He stayed after every night you’ve spent together, and thus reassured you time and time again through all of his little gestures that he was there to stay.

Javier lets go of you, walking before you only to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and chuckle at you, as if amazed at something.

“What?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips as well.

“I love you.”

The words came out so simply, so easily, even though you had no idea about the amount of times Javier had thought about saying them to you. You had no idea about the many times he’s even rehearsed the words only in hopes of getting them so sound right, as casual as possible, despite the fact that they meant the world to him.

And you were his world.

“I love you too,” you reciprocated, fighting the urge to ask him if he was sure. Because at the end of the day, you knew him well enough to know that he didn’t say such intimate things without meaning them. “So you’d better kiss me right now.”

No need to tell him twice: Javier moved closer to you, pressing your lips onto yours as he’d always done, passionately and sweetly at the same time, all in the midst of the pouring rain.

Javi tags:

@jettia @stardust-galaxies @evyiione @bellamella

permanent Pedro tags:

@doin-stuff @pedro-pastel @acourtofsnakes @rosiefridayrogersunday @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @boxdyeblonde @imcalledflorence @artsymaddie @casssiopeia @sleep-tight1 @pasckles @northernpunk @wantingpedropascal @evelynseventyr @itssmashedavo @phoenixhalliwell @elegantduckturtle @mylifeinthetardisforever @ohhersheybars @kingsqueensandvagabonds @itssmashedavo @sebbys-girl @mrsparknuts @hnt-escape @hayley-the-comet @spideysimpossiblegirl @lsphoenix @kirsteng42 @lunaemss @goldielocks2004 @diogodxlot @gracie7209 @floraandfrost @mejswho @dobbyjen @janebby @what-iwish-you-knew @jedi-jesi @kaqua @datenshi666 @stevie75 @ezras-channel-rat @for-my-satisfaction @quica-quica-quica @mishasminion360 @eri16 @lovesbiggerthanpride @xaestheticalien @grandfanficstation @mrsudontknowme @hello-i-am-daydreaming @mando-s-wife @pastamomma @midwesternwitchery @headinthestarz @drreidsconverse @dindjarinneedsahug @captainjaspenor @pscalwhiskey @1800-fight-me @phandoz @ayrusss @amneris21 @alexxavicry @c4psicle @persephones-garden @din0-plan3 @smutwhore66 @dinsangelx @deliriosinrose @mswarriorbabe80 @crazyworldofsiani @terecord @squidwell @happycupcakeenthusiast @amidalush @pepperpottsxxxx @detectivecarisi-1 @starwarslove16 @dinandgone @fic-appointment @toxicfrankenstein @nicolemval @girlofchaos @mandosmistress @dumplinshee

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña drabble #Javier Peña fluff #Javier Peña x gn!reader #Javier Peña x gender neutral reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena drabble #javier pena fluff #javier pena x gn!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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theflyingfeeling · 3 years ago

Note

Hi I'm terribly late to the domestic prompts and ignore this please if you don't accept and more but

Olli/Tommi and trying to surprise your partner with dinner, but you've taken on more than you can handle, running around the kitchen, water almost boiling over, the fish on the brink of being burnt. your partner comes home, appreciates the effort, giving you a kiss on the cheek as they lend you a helping hand (bonus if said partner is a chef)

and because I'm somewhat sneaky again can I throw in a hint of picking out wedding engagement rings and they both want to surprise each other over dinner and both asked Porko on the same day for decision assistance? 🥺👉👈

Hiiiiiiii 💜

This one took me ages due to four days spent in Stockholm and several days spent with a head ache + one day spent with a tummy ache, then I had a bit of a writer's block which my dearest @percervall kindly helped me overcome (in addition to doing a bit of beta reading <3), so I really really hope this is worth the wait and that you like it 🥺

and since you sneaked in another prompt I decided to sneak in a hint of Joonas/Joel and a whooooooole lot of Joonas Being The Bestest Friend 😌

(2901 words)

edit. forgot the readmore when I first posted this 😂 sorry if I managed to ruin anyone's dash with a long post lol

The salmon glared back at Olli from behind the glass at the supermarket fish counter. Doubting he would win the staring contest, Olli looked away and turned to speak to Joonas instead.

“How hard can cooking one of those be, huh?”

Joonas, in turn, pursed his lips and eyed the dead fish lying on crushed ice next to a slice of lemon.

“For an average person? Not very. For you? Well…”

Olli rolled his eyes. “I burn the oatmeal ONCE and immediately get a reputation of being a terrible cook? Thank you, Porko, you’re ever so supportive.”

“Naww, babe,” Joonas nudged Olli’s shoulder with his, “I’m sure that with my best salmon recipe, even you can succeed!”

“That’s not even half as reassuring as you probably intended, but thank you.” Then Olli sighed and clutched the handle of the paper bag he had gotten from the jeweller’s. “I really, really need tonight to be…special.”

“And it will be,” Joonas planted a quick kiss on his temple, “he’ll melt on the floor once he sees the ring.”

“Thanks for helping me out with it, Joonas,” Olli said. “You know Tommi is not big on jewellery.”

Indeed, Olli was awfully grateful to Joonas, who had spent almost an entire hour at the jeweller’s with him, trying to decide on the perfect ring with which Olli would later that evening, if all goes to plan (which was easier said that done in Olli’s particular case), with trembling hands and a raspy voice ask Tommi if he was up for maybe spending the rest of their lives together, but no pressure, like, at all, totally cool if not, just a random thought!

“We couldn’t have found a better ring for you to put on Bear Boy. The rock hammer finish looks mad cool. I’m actually a little jealous, to be honest, so if Tommi by any chance ends up rejecting you–”

“You think he might?!” Olli almost dropped the salmon fillet Joonas had ordered for him while he had been lost in a reverie of what the proposal would actually be like. Should he get down on one knee? He’d probably sprain his neck, with Tommi towering nearly two metres above him. Would he start blabbering to the point that by the time he finally popped the question, Tommi would have fallen asleep on the couch? What if the ring wouldn't fit? What if Tommi wouldn't like it after all?

What if he’d say no?

“Seriously, Olli?” Joonas stopped him in the middle of the bread aisle. “You two have been together since the beginning of time, have lived together for five years, and you’re still wondering if he actually likes you enough to marry you? Be thankful I forgot to take a basket and have to hold all these groceries in my arms, or else I’d slap the fuck out of you right now, you silly boy.”

“But–” Olli frowned as they continued walking, “what if he’s not the marrying kind?”

“Jesus, Olli, do you know him at all? May I remind you who was voted as ‘the most likely to marry their high school sweetheart’ at the end of senior year? Hand me that rye bread, will you? No, the other one, it looks fresher.”

Warily, Olli balanced the loaf on top of a carton of eggs that looked like it was going to slip from Joonas’ grip any second.

“I know, but–”

“And have you forgotten who the high school sweetheart in question is, hm? Listen, you’re so lucky I’d be green with envy if I wasn’t so happy for the both of you. Joel would probably just toss me the ring and tell me to ‘put it on, or whatever’,” Joonas harrumphed, making the lone blond curl that had escaped from under his hat bounce in front of his face.

Olli managed to forget about the agony caused by the proposal looming at dinnertime when he tried to visualise Joel and Joonas exchanging wedding bands, snarling insults at each other in between all the kisses and the vows. The mental image made Olli chuckle out loud.

“Right?” Joonas nudged him. “You’re gonna be fine, old friend, he’s gonna say yes, you’re both gonna cry–”

“Tommi doesn’t cry.”

“–and it’s gonna be romantic, and you’ll get married, and you’ll walk down the aisle to that song from The Return of the King–”

“Actually, I was thinking of the Star Wars theme tune.”

“And– woah, you’ll be so lucky if Tommi says yes to that.”

Olli couldn’t help but smile. The thing was, despite his occasional insecurities, he knew he was lucky to have someone like Tommi by his side; Tommi, who woke him up in time for work when he forgot to set the alarm or went to see nerdy movies with him even though Tommi was not “a movie guy”, as the man himself put it; Tommi, who loved him even though he was a scatterbrained, sleepy fool with mashed potatoes for brains most of the time.

“Yeah,” Olli grinned and looked down at the tiles of the supermarket floor to hide his dreamy smile.

“However,” Joonas said as he nodded towards a packet of coffee for Olli to pick up and add to his already wobbling tower of groceries, “if you still have doubts as to whether Tommi will want to lead your pretty little bottom to the altar, I can spill the tea on how to prepare the most mouthwatering lemon meringue pie Tommi has ever had in his life. In fact, it’s so delicious he might end up wanting to marry the tartlet instead.”

“That being said, am I gonna want to take that risk?” Olli asked, although by then he was less worried about Tommi’s marital intentions than he was about what ever the hell meringue was.

“Trust me, it’s– ah, hold on, someone’s calling me, can you get my phone for me?”

Olli had also heard the buzzing from Joonas’ backside and slipped his hand in the back pocket of the guitarist’s skin-tight jeans to fish out the smartphone. His face lit up when he saw Tommi’s name on the screen.

“Hey babe,” he answered without hesitation and winked at Joonas, whose confusion washed away the second he heard Olli’s soft tone.

“Oh, hi. You’re with Porko?” the familiar voice asked at the other end of the phone line.

“Yeah, we’re, umm, shopping.” Olli knew himself well enough; he was a terrible liar and even worse an actor, so the less he told Tommi about the actual state of affairs, the better off he was.

“Cool, cool. Well, umm, can you hand the phone to him for just a sec? I, err, promised to help him today with his, his, umm, car. After work.”

“Okay?” Olli side-eyed Joonas before holding the phone to the man’s ear, his own hands still very much occupied with holding cartons and containers.

“Waddap?” Joonas said to the phone. “No, I have not. Yes. Yes, I’ll be there. It’s alright, I’ll see you then. Okay, bye–”

“Love you,” Olli called out towards the phone before Tommi hung up and the line went silent. “What’s wrong with your car?”

“Our car?” Joonas raised his eyebrows, then nodded as if he just recalled the conversation he had had with Tommi on the phone a second ago. “Ah, yeah, it makes this weird noise while driving.”

“You sure that weird noise is not Joel?”

“I admit I haven’t thought about it, but I’ll be sure to tell him you said that!” Joonas smiled his brightest smile as they finally headed towards self-checkout.

“Don’t you dare!”

It’ll be easy, Porko had said.

There’s no way you can fuck this up, Porko had said.

And Olli, like the gullible idiot he was, had believed him. Yet, there he was, sitting by the kitchen table staring at an alleged lemon meringue pie that looked like someone had eaten too much omelette and then puked it on a plate, a hollandaise sauce stuck in the bottom of the pot, and a salad with no salad in it because he had forgotten to buy any (also somehow Porko’s fault). He didn’t even dare inspect the state of the salmon, for the last time he checked it had looked rather dry and crispy, not “moist and juicy” like Joonas’ recipe had said.

It was supposed to be the most important dinner of Olli’s life so far, and now it was turning into a catastrophe. His only hope was that whatever was wrong with Joonas and Joel’s car, it wouldn’t be fixed before the pizza delivery guy would bring their actual dinner, one that Olli wouldn’t manage to ruin, unless he dropped the boxes when tripping on the kitchen threshold.

However, he hadn’t even dialled the number of their favourite pizzeria when he heard the front door being unlocked.

“Hey, I’m home, sorry it took– what’s that smell?”

Olli slumped against the kitchen table and wailed in a way that would’ve probably earned him honorary membership in the blue whales’ karaoke club.

“A disaster!”

“Olli, what’s happening?” Tommi was now standing at the kitchen door with a concerned crinkle on his forehead.

“I… I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting coming home to…whatever this is,” Tommi gestured around the kitchen, including the miserable pie in front of Olli as well as the sink overflowing with used bowls, knives and whisks Olli had been too panicky to hide in the dishwasher.

“Yh,” Olli whined. His head was still resting against the tabletop but his eyes followed Tommi as he walked to witness the doomed state of the salmon.

“Is the oven on broil on purpose or..?”

“What?” Olli shrieked. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re roasting the salmon.”

“I’m what?!” Olli bolted up and joined his boyfriend by the oven where the man was already pointing his finger at the oven’s function selection knob.

“This means roast,” he told Olli with all his restaurant manager’s expertise.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You’re always the one doing the fish!”

Tommi laid a calm hand on Olli’s shoulder. “Hey hey, it’s okay, let’s just switch the regular heater on, alright?” Tommi’s hand moved lower to rub Olli’s back while his other hand turned the switch to the left a couple of times and cracked the oven door open slightly to let out some heat. “You know what? I think it might have actually given the fish a nice, smoky touch.”

“Yeah?” Olli snuggled closer to Tommi’s soft body.

“Uh-huh. No harm done, baby.” Then a quick kiss was pressed on Olli’s forehead which a moment ago had been sweating with distress.

“Well, the rest of the stuff is still ruined,” he mumbled and wished he could hide somewhere inside Tommi’s sweatshirt.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about the sauce,” Tommi nodded as he examined the blob at the bottom of the pan. “The greens look fine, but what on earth was that supposed to be?”

Tommi’s finger was now pointing at the cursed mound of white and yellow mush that sat pathetically on a pie mould.

“It’s a lemon merry…something.”

“A lemon meringue pie,” Tommi read from the back of a receipt from the supermarket on which Joonas had scribbled the recipe for him. “This is Porko’s, I assume?”

“How did you know?”

“Because only one of our friends would add a winking emoji after ‘whip until hard’.”

“And I whipped and whipped and whipped but the only thing that became hard was my arm when it cramped!”

“You tried your best, I’m sure of it,” Tommi reassured him with another kiss on his temple. “With meringue you have to be extra careful with egg yolk. Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Olli wanted to complain when Tommi freed him from his warm embrace and walked to the fridge. After staring at its contents for a few seconds, he spoke again, his back still turned to Olli.

“You used up all the eggs, didn’t you?”

“There may have been a few failed attempts at separating the yolk from the egg white,” Olli replied, biting his nails.

“Another time then.” Tommi faced him again, and Olli wished he deserved the tenderness on the man’s face. Nevertheless, he let himself be pulled into another gentle hug and buried his face on Tommi’s chest.

“Or I’ll just let you do it all, like I’ve done until now.”

Olli could feel Tommi’s chest vibrate with laughter, then a few faint kisses left on the top of his head.

“The filling looks alright though, so you’re halfway there already.”

“Comforting,” Olli said sarcastically. Then again, he probably wouldn’t mind trying again, at least as long as Tommi would be there too to provide him with the meringue to his lemon pudding.

“What are we having with the salmon, by the way? Besides the veggies.”

Oh. Shit.

“Potatoes. Although…I haven’t even peeled them yet.”

More kisses were planted on his hair as Tommi pulled him close even tighter.

“If I recall correctly, we have some fries in the freezer. Fish and chips, eh? I’ll prepare the tartar. How’s that sound?”

Olli would have preferred having his cheek pressed flat against Tommi’s chest for the rest of the evening, but when he lifted his jaw to look up at his life-companion, he realised it wasn’t as bad an option either.

“Sounds amazing,” he admitted and rose on his tiptoes to connect their lips.

Tommi’s soft red lips were all Olli could focus on most of the dinner, all he forced himself to focus on as to not become crazy while the ring burned in his pocket like he was an unsuspecting hobbit on his way to Mordor.

He waited until they had scraped their bowls clean off the lemon pudding Tommi had managed to salvage from the unholy mess of ingredients Olli had created, and just to buy himself some more time he offered to fill the dishwasher and find a container or a lid for the leftover fish. Once he was done busying himself with kitchen chores to the point he was wiping the tap for the third time, he finally put the dishrag away and turned around to find Tommi right behind him, ready to wrap his arms around Olli.

The kiss he was then given tasted faintly of lemon and the whipped cream Tommi had miraculously conjured out of nowhere to make the otherwise sorry-looking pie filling look a little more like a dessert.

“Thanks for the dinner, baby,” Tommi said with his voice all husky and low, sending shivers down Olli’s spine.

“I think I might need some more practice, though,” Olli mumbled against Tommi’s mouth, making the other man chuckle out a quiet laugh.

“You did well, in the end.”

“Thanks to you,” Olli whispered and nudged their lips together to urge Tommi to kiss him once more.

They stayed like that for a while, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms tightly around each other, mouths working together, the only sound breaking the peaceful silence being the blissful sighs escaping their lungs every now and then. The dinner might not have gone as Olli had planned, but in the end he had ended up exactly where he had wanted to, so there really wasn’t much to complain about.

He could’ve easily stayed right there for the rest of his days, if Tommi would let him.

Would he?

“Tommi?”

“Mmh?”

“I… I got you something. When I was shopping with Porko earlier.”

“Oh yeah? A second dessert? Not with Porko’s recipe, though, I hope.”

Olli would have laughed at the remark, had his heart not been about to thump through his chest.

“No, I, erm… I got you this.” He squeezed his hand into his sweatpants pocket where he had hidden the ring before starting off his efforts in the kitchen, afraid he might forget it somewhere on display and ruin the surprise.

Without the velvet box it looked sort of plain, but he hoped Tommi got the hint anyway.

“Will– will you marry me, Tommi?”

Olli’s mouth felt dry and his hand was shaking while he looked deep into Tommi’s loving eyes and waited for an answer.

But instead of that, Tommi chuckled lightly and put his hand in his own back pocket.

Then he went down on one knee.

“I will, if you’ll marry me too.”

When Tommi’s hand reappeared from behind his back, he was holding a black band with golden rims that gleamed under the kitchen ceiling light. Upon seeing it, Olli realised it was the exact same ring he had tried on at the jeweller’s earlier that day, sighing as Joonas had commented how good it would look on him.

A realisation hit him, and when it did, his face broke into a relieved smile. He saw Tommi’s do the same, his eyes glistening as he looked up at Olli from his chivalrous position on the floor. “Yes,” Olli barely had time to say before Tommi was standing up again and pulling him into a kiss that merged into breathless laughter and quiet I love you’s, into foreheads pressed together when they exchanged rings in a wordless promise to be there for each other forever, or at least as long as the universe would let them.

and here are the rings I had in mind for them:

(📷: Etsy)

(📷: Blue Nile)

#blind channel #blind channel fanfiction #blind channel rpf #domestic fluff by theflyingfeeling #i also momentarily forgot what my tag for these were 😅

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nulltune · 3 years ago

Note

plots please! I want to write more with you since forever but I can never decide on muse and plots egergewaheth

OHHHHH LULLYYY!!! I'M FEELING SO EPIC AND FLATTERED AND EMBARRASSED AND HAPPY HERE...... SGGKJSKFK DO U KNOW THAT'S LITERALLY ME @ U THO !!!!!!! PLS ngl for the longest time i've been so 😳😳 seeing ur blog (and i remember one of the first things i thought was how pretty your icons are!!) and goshdang do i wanna write with u and all of your muses!! i can 100% relate tho- i'm always the most indecisive ever when it comes to multis (cuz i love all dem wonderful muses!) and i have z e r o (0) ideas on how to start things up lately orz BUT!!! here are some thoughts i have 😳👉👈 for all ur muses! (minus tesla and shd because unfortunately wiki was a barren land 2 me and my mind started drawing a blank 🧎‍♂️) BUT AAAA I'M ALL EARS TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ABT THESE TOO! these are just my intial thoughts on seeing their profiles on your page + wiki (i'm a fraud of a fate blog tbh my mind is only full of hakuno-) but i would love to hear ur top three from these ones too mayhaps.....!!!! 😳 under the cut bc it's long as Heck-

meme, closed! @summoned-anima

sherlock: fate extra materials say that hakuno has some amazing detective skills (what with all the lil "quests" you do in game and all) so i think some situation that forces these two to cooperate on their wits would be real interesting! i just thought of these two working together on an escape room or sth and damn would i be willing to place my bets on these two being the first to finish it 👏👏✨ which also makes me think: they'd work pretty well as allies or comrades — which is pretty funny too, considering how the another ending ce is one of the best ce reccs to pair up with sherlock ☆ — but as friends.... 🤔 well what i'm saying is that!! i see that "little regards to emotions" on your sherlock's page and boy do i sense some interesting things coming for when that clashes with hakuno and her extremely emotionally-driven and relationship-oriented self! would they butt heads?? would they be an iconic brain-and-heart combo?? lots of possibilities tbh! and also!!! this one is kinda random but i hc my hakuno to be a pianist (the human she's based off is a pianist and the npc would naturally have those skills as well, but she's just not aware of it yet-) and i remember sherlock being able to play the violin so -vague hand gestures- idk sth abt it would be cute methinks..!! it'd be sweet if they could play together too 🥺

caenis: i see his line saying he hates the ocean and I VERY MUCH NEED TO SEE HIM AND HAKUNO GO TO THE OCEAN NOW THANK U VERY MUCH- on hakuno's side! she's spent all her life in a damn academy in a damn virtual world, so i'd just love to see her explore the world in general.. an ocean or just the sea is especially high on that list because se.ra.ph was like the digital sea you see-- and in the arenas, she'd always get a view from in the ocean rather than looking at it from above. it'd be a new experience for her!! and paired with caenis's hatred for the ocean, i feel like it'd be Intewesting 👀 i see caenis having a sweet tooth as well and as someone who loves candy, they can be a sweet tooth squad!! they also have the brutally honest aspect in common and i gotta say,, seeing the line he has for musashi, i'd love to see him potentially calling hakuno out for some of the stuff she does (prime example: hakuno being a very good-hearted and kind person but firmly believing she's bad because she's done some bad stuff) and idk much abt caenis, but a two-way street in character development would be -chef kiss- ! let them both help each other become better mayhaps 🤲🤲✨ ALSO.. i see caenis having a pair of animal ears and idk what type it is exactly (bunny ears??) but this must be said--!!! hakuno loves fluffy-wuffy things and would absolutely want 2 pet--

douman: hakuno's a huuuge history buff so she'd most definitely know about his history and all that, but i, da mun, am not <3 GDJDJSJ will be googling up his background and life story sooner or later but for the time being!! just speaking on the things i've witnessed on the dash from here to there- hakuno and her curious self would most certainly be curious about this clown alter ego that's apparently been causing a ruckus. NGL I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT DOUMAN'S WHOLE DEAL IS- and yes i finished shimousa but gotdang is my goldfish memory a struggling binch-- but me thinking about hakuno and her pure innocent nature has got me very Hm 👀(TM). and i will be embawwassing now and admit that i couldn't find as much info abt douman as i liked so i went snooping thru ur posts a lil 🏃‍♂️ AND PLS HE'S H*RNY⁉️ DGJEHCJS my hakuno's a demisexual too so her encountering the very horny douman would probably be so 👁_👁... for her dgdjjehc but!!! fun and laughs aside i am-!!!! actually eye-ing this veeery intently because love and lust is a pretty dang interesting topic to delve into!! i think i saw a post of yours saying sex is his substitute for love and i raise my moon girl like simba-- who i can very much see bluntly speaking out her mind on that matter... trying to understand where he's comibg from but not hesitating to say her bit on how she thinks that's futile and that he'll never obtain happiness that way 😳

enkidu: these two....... THESE TWO........ 🥺😭. artificial beings!!!! learning to be more human together mayhaps-- honestly one of the biggest themes with my moon girl which i'd love 2 explore with everyone's favorite lancer here! and listennnn, it was heavily implied that a berserker enkidu is a servant hakuno could contract with based on compatibility alone (nasu may not have explicitly confirmed it but it is Canon in my heart ok 😤) and i think there's sooo many ways to play off of that (disclaimer tho! it'd be most definitely alright if enkidu doesn't remember her at all! that gives us some angst potential to play with too >:3 ^_T) hakuno remembering enkidu from their beserker form and then interacting with them as a lancer..... hakuno not remember them at first but slowly regaining her memories of them from se.ra.ph as she interacts with their lancer variants....... lots of ways 2 go about it! ANDD i feel like flowers are becoming a decently prominent thing with my hakuno and i do recall enkidu's valentine gift ces being flowers too so-- i dunno how or why but i want something flower inspired for them.....!!!!! OH AND AND since they both dress pretty plainly, it'd be cute if they could dress each other up! i'm also thinking about them doing each other's hair because there's this one super super adorable art of hakuno braiding their hair which i adore oh so very much 🥺

pepe: BEING 100% TRANSPARENT HERE-- I HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED LB1 😳...... but!!!! this is a duo that honestly intrigues me So Much because i've heard a lot about how pepe and hakuno have A Lot in common (which- for my hakuno could be both a good thing and a bad thing.. my hakuno definitely has a very deep and unique sense of loneliness, so having someone so similar to her would be both comforting and frightening methinks...) case in point-- this post! (also- random but op's brain is so huge and i love reading their thoughts abt hakuno so much -chef kiss-). i feel like there can be sooo much potential for them to develop more as people thanks to their interactions, and i feel like they really could get along! i can honestly see a pretty damn wholesome friendship too tbh 🥺 and characters who seem so incredibly different on the surface but actually share a lot of deeper themes and things in common is a personal fav of mine okok!!! 😤👏💯💯✨ also a big fan of the concept of pepe and hakuno absolutely slaying and breaking gender roles ✊✊ (pepe being more feminine-like and hakuno being more of a tomboy herself). AND I AM DEEPLY SORRY IN ADVANCE BUT here's a random silly thought that i just have to say too-- i can imagine hakuno gifting them a plushie of pepe the frog... solely because they share a (nick)name..... VDDGFKEHDJ

elijah: CONSIDERING HOW MY HAKUNO IS VERY MUCH LIKE A PINOCCHIO THAT WANTS TO BE HUMAN-- this duo intrigues me very much yes yes 👀✨ hakuno doesn't have the best opinion of herself (putting this very very lightly-) and views herself as a sorry attempt of a living being really ^_T so i feel like she'd expect elijah to dislike or look down on her to an extent (which is honestly how she's been conditioned to feel like with anyone ngl but she's Especially feeling it after his "something you like" line heeheehoohoo!) — his own opinion of her is totes up 2 u tho! hakuno's journey is most definitely becoming more human from the blank slate she was once was and she's oh so very human at her core, so i'm real intrigued to know how elijah would feel and interact with all that!! speaking of... ELIJAH NOT BEING HUMANE IN HIS CORE IS SO INTERESTING TO MEEEE!!!!! also provides a pretty Intewesting contrast to hakuno too. i am a fool so i know thing abt elijah but 👀👀👀 am very much open to learning more via ic interactions! him telling hakuno his story perhaps...... (if they get closer ofc!!) and damn i am c h omping my hands rn bc if this moon girl manages to get to bond lvl 5 with him-- and even if not!! like with enkidu, i can def see her affirming his humanity and caring for him regardless!!

mycroft: I'VE BEEN MEANING TO SEND YOU AN ASK FOR HIM FROM MY OLD AS HECK INBOX CALL TBH-- but!!!! i want them to be teatime buddies !!!!!! it's just something that sounds real wholesome to me okay.. 🥺 AND LISTEN- it's perfect because even back in the moon cell, hakuno would always like to have cakes with the tea that sakura brewed... also-- like with caenis, sweet tooth squad!! i feel like they could get along on that aspect as well? OH BUT SAME WITH SHERLOCK i am very much 👀👀👀👀 because gotdang do i love thinking abt the dynamics of hakuno and a more rational muse..!!! hakuno's a bit (read: A Lot) of an overworker herself too, but she's of the mindset that it's fine if only she's the one bearing all the weight, so i can most definitely see her pesking approaching him quite frequentky to ask if there's any way she could help out or lessen his load. definitely encourages him to take better care of himself and rest!!!! a hypocrite ahaha- OH AND PLS KNOW THAT THE PROGRESSION OF HIS BOND LINES MAKE ME CRY AS WELLLL 😭😭 and i'm sorry but i just know hakuno is that brand of stubborn that just won't leave him alone!! (in a good way tho!!)

#summoned anima #&&. out of #q.#THANK U FOR SENDING THIS IN BTW 💞💞 PLSS I RLLY WANT 2 INTERACT WITH U ALREADYYY #also-- we should exchange d.iscord handles perhaps... 😳😳👉👈#would be vv open to plotting more with u if u'd like!#OR HONESTLY EVEN JUMPING STRAIGHT INTO INTERACTIONS IS A-OKAY WITH ME TOO--#see where the wind takes us~~~ or sth like that!#and once i get more info abt t.esla and shd i Will be rambling abt them as well okok!!!!

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staysuki · 3 years ago

Note

to 🍕 : yes im female girl woman eveything yes

i liked s1 so much that i shipped reader with hyunjin instead 😃👍 lIKE IDK jeongin u dcurb it Y^Y u blind af man but without his obliviousness, then there wouldnt be any story lol and i liked readers character there 🤩🤩🤩

aND THERES THIS SCENE I CAN NVR FORGET ABT:::: i forgot her name but the toxic gf one texted reader "i hate u" but reader replied with "the feeling's not mutual, idc abt u" AND BRUH I WAS LIKE ok fck jeongin and hyunjin,,, im marrying reader SGFOUAYSOFSA

IK U WANT FEEDBACKS ABT S2 BUT I HAVENT STARTED IT BECAUSE IT ISNT FINISH YET :"> and i kent read long fics now cuz school is out to get me 🔪 PLS SAKSAKIN NIYO NA LANG AKO (🍕 this means 'pls stab me' im translating bc ily)

ASH WHY R U THERE BY URSELF Y^Y but tnx for dj-ing hhehehhahh is felix singing live 😱😱😱 ??????

🍕 we can have our second date on minho's resto 🤩🤩🤩 u dont have to worry abt penises,,, except maybe look out for ash im sure shes wearing dick themed clothes & accessories 😭

bUT EXCUSE ME I SRSLY FEEL LIKE YOU (yes u ash) used to be one of the artistic kids in school who was always forced to join competitions XD lIKE U CUT UR HAIR ,, UR PENMANSHIP IS bOoTyfULL and ur drawings r cute 🥺👉👈

y dont u hav a nose 😞 and the chastity ring 😭😭😭 wtf ash 😭 but the bananas 😋 i cant get over you being so lonely on the corner,,, is felix on bathroom break because of all the intense live singing?? HAAHHHAHHAH

your dick drawing is so detailed while mines literally looks like -> olo ,,,, just that ; no details

and i realized all my asks are so fkng long lmao,,,, i should prob speak less 😃👍 but im only like this to you (???) MAYBE BECAUSE I CAN FEEL UR CHAOTIC ENERGY OR SMTHNG ??? like idk the way i type changes depending on how i see the writer?? one author im also talkative with has a calm vibe so i barely use caps on her asks, tho my msgs are also chaotic XD

ok bye

- bs

i love how i'm just the msngr between you and 🍕anon now 💓🙏 i love modern day romance.

JSHWJSHSS and yeah, i loved season 1 a lot too, it was the perfect bite-sized smau 😩 shouldn't have ruined it ih8myself. also i would say that jeongin's season 1 smau perfectly embodies my blog and the way i write but honestly, i think PP HEART™️ took that spot now. I LOVED WRITING THE EX-GIRLFRIEND CONFRONTATION PART TOO!! I wanted to deviate from the standard doormat type of y/n so I made her as annoying as possible (but also charming). AND YEAH. EVERYONE WAS #HyunjinBestBoy SO I JUST HAD TO MAKE AN ALTERNATE ENDING. It was fun though, everyone was pro-Juyeon until Hyunjin came in the picture. I like to take it as a compliment that I write characters and chemistry well 😌 or everyone is just so easily swayed by charming men idk.

that's understandable! i wanted to finish season 2 as soon as possible too but i ended up making it longger than intended. dw, it's almost finished i swear 😭💔 and i'll be waiting for a complete 10 page detailed analysis and commentary review on it once you finish jkjk. also 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

i'm in the corner watching over seo changbin so he doesn't flirt with y/n while felix is singing, boss' orders 😩🙏.

time to write about a minho fic where he owns a restaurant then 🤥 i'll make it boob-themed this time JKJK

AND NO BUT U R CLOSE. I used to be the textbook nerd, I spent so much time in the library, I'd stay there after class until it closed 😤. I did join a bunch of competitions but they are mostly acad-based and I was also in the student council (guess which position hehe). I also joined some pageants but let's move past that yeah(?). But unfortunately, i was NOT one of the art kids 😔 unless you count theatre and dance as art then yes.

ALSO PLEASE, i love how you keep coming back to the drawing 💀. Felix is refreshing his vocal cords 💔

I used to vandalize desk chairs back in school and I'd draw oddly detailed penises— i was a cHiLD back tHEN OKAY

ALSO DW, i like long 🥺👉👈 (all kinds of). Dw about shortening it or anything, i'll make up for it by using smaller text and also using a readmore for my reply hehe 👻peekaboo👻 or smth idfk.

ALSO HOW DARE YOU THINK I'M CHAOTIC 🤥😡🤬😫😝😩🤬🤬 DOES ME DRAWING DIFFERENT VARIATIONS OF PENISES NOT SCREAM "chill, mature, proper, classy lady" TO YOU 🕺 i am an artissê✨ but i feel special that you're only like this with me 🥺👉👈🕺🙈✨😭😩🤬🤬😝😫✨😔

#anon: bub stop.#anon:🍕#ash life #pizza anon

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clone-whore-99 · 2 years ago

Text

Troublemaker

Chapter 13: Waste of Time

The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Warnings: If you thought the angst had stopped then you were sorely mistaken, Crosshair being himself, ignoring boundaries, playful teasing, guns, self-doubt, chaos thoughts, Reader still got plenty of issues LMK if I missed any

Authors Note: Writers block? ✔ An unusual busy summer? ✔ Several mental breakdowns? ✔✔✔ This chapter has spent more time in the closet than I ever did. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤

If you like it, please do let me know by liking and commenting and maybe even reblogging, it would mean a lot to me 🥺👉👈 Oh, and if you want to, you can show some support by buying me a coffee ❤

Arriving at Kamino

Work, Armor and... Clones?

Let It Out

You Shouldn't Have Done That

Talk About It

The 20 Questions Game

Crosshair 🌶

Echoes of the Past

The Fight

A Nice Change of Air

Sore Muscles 🌶

Heavy Rain Weights the Mind

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. You and Crosshair had been talking together for hours on end - well, mostly just you, Crosshair mainly made grunts in agreement or lack thereof. But every now and then he would chime in on the conversation, adding his own twist to it or possibly completely changing the topic.

It had been so nice, lovely, cozy. You made a mental note to thank Wrecker for creating such an atmosphere. The cold from the window contrasting the warmth of Crosshair’s body. The sound of his slow heartbeat in rhythm with the droplets of rain hitting the glass. Crosshairs slow and gentle caressing touch.

You vaguely remember the dark sky turning completely black. And maybe your dad coming back from work, though it could’ve just been a dream.

What a shame such a wonderful night of sleep was interrupted by a rather crude way of waking up.

A hand placed on your shoulder gently shook you awake. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re late.” Crosshairs grumpy voice sounded.

“Hmmm, late for what?” You hummed, not ready to open your eyes or move from the comfy spot against the clone.

“Breakfast. The others are already waiting for us in the cafeteria.”

You thought for a second, before nuzzling in closer. “No food, only sleep.”

“It’s gonna be like that, huh?” You could actually hear the eyeroll in his speech. Then you were roughly pushed to the side and the warmth encasing you moved away.

Though you wanted to be annoyed at the rough handling, you were just too tired to care. You snuggled back up against the cushions and made a pouty face towards Crosshair.

Finishing putting on his armor, Crosshair rested one hand on his hip while looking down at you. “You coming?”

“No,” You pouted. “No food, only sleep.”

A heavy sigh was the last thing you heard, before the blanket covering you was ripped away and a pair of hands grabbed around your waist. You didn’t even have the time to fathom what was happening, as your world turned upside down.

You screamed in shock. You started kicking and hitting and pulling yourself out of his grasp, without any luck. You demanded to be let down, bargained for your release, promised you would stop complaining.

Crosshair didn’t listen. He just kept walking with you hanging over his shoulder.

“Quit yelling, you’re making a scene.” He said after a while.

“Then let me down!” You demanded again.

He didn’t. At least not until you reached the others in the cafeteria. Then he put you down on the bench, ordered you to stay put and headed towards the buffet.

You scrunched your nose at him. “I’m not a soldier, you can’t give me orders,” You yelled after him, at this point not caring whether or not you were causing a scene. Afterall, you had already gotten everybody's attention by your entrance.

“I can restrain you,” Crosshair loudly replied, not caring what others thought, like usual.

“Unbelievable,” You grumbled, leaning against the table and resting your head in your hand.

“Very believable,” Tech corrected, with his classic index finger raised in the air. “You should’ve picked up on Crosshairs usual behavior by now.”

You glared at the genius clone. “I know, it’s just a saying.”

Hunter chuckled. “Rough morning?”

“No…” You sighed, already missing being asleep by the window. “Not until Crosshair decided to toss me over his shoulder.”

A cup of caff was placed in front of you, along with a tray of the usual boring food they served on Kamino. “I gave you the chance to come willingly. You should’ve taken it while you could.”

As you were about to reply with some snide comment, Echo chimed in on the conversation. “I take it as the two of you have made up then?”

“Well,” You looked down at your food in a shy manner and shrugged slightly. “It’s kinda hard not to, with the cozy little nook Wrecker created. Thank you,” You smiled at the gentle giant, who in return rubbed the back of his neck in a shy manner.

“Eh, don’t mention it. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to relax and be comfortable!” He roared confidently.

“That… Is two things, Wrecker.” Tech corrected.

Wrecker instantly shot back by pointing at the goggled clone and yelling: “You’re two things!”

Techs facial expression turned into a rather rare sight for the clone - one of confusion. “That doesn’t even make any sense,”

You laughed at the brothers usual quarrels, Techs constant need to be right and Wrecker being, well, Wrecker. However, you decided to change the topic before it could get out of hand. “So, what’s your plans for today?”

Tech was the first to respond, already looking through his datapad. “Well, since the medics have confirmed my suspicions about Echo’s sense of balance, I can finally go further with my work on his cybernetic. Hopefully that would mean we can soon, erm…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Tech looked up at you and saw the hurt in your eyes. You just nodded at him. “That you can soon leave again. I know. I guess that means Echo is going to spend the day with you?”

Echo let out a low, awkward groan. “I guess. He only really needs my head for measurements and all that, but it’s a good time to keep up with my studies on their battle formation.”

“I’m thinking about hitting the shooting range. You wanted to come with?” Crosshair sounded next to you.

Before you could reply, Wrecker let out a loud: “Yea I do! Been too long since our last mission, I’ve been itching to blow some things up!”

You chuckled at his sudden reaction. You weren’t sure if Wrecker knew the question wasn’t meant for him, but you liked the confidence in his reply. “Sure, it’d be fun. Plus I kinda wanna see Wrecker in action, blowing things up and all that.”

Crosshair did not look amused. It was pretty obvious he had hoped for you alone, but he wasn’t going to admit that in front of his brothers. Especially not after you admitted you wanted Wrecker to come along.

Your eyes landed on the leader of the group. “What about you Hunter?”

“Hmm?” The soldier was caught off guard, clearly focused on something else, but you couldn’t tell what. Then his face lit up in realization. “Oh! I, erm, I’m probably just gonna stay back and help Echo with his studies..”

Though you had no certain proof or reason to, you had this weird feeling that Hunter was avoiding you. Which was crazy, obviously! He was just busy, that’s all. So what if he was always away, never really spent too much time alone with you, always seemed to try and keep some distance from you? It was all just a coincidence, you were worried about nothing, really. Afterall, he had just spent a day training with you. It might’ve been while his brothers were cheering him on and most of it was spent with him avoiding your punches and throwing you to the ground, but surely that meant he wasn’t trying to avoid you, right?

Something sharp pushed up your chin and pulled you out of your thought process.

“You aren’t listening, dollface.” Crosshair said annoyed. He had been explaining to you how to disassemble and reassemble a gun, insisting it was just as important to know as how to shoot with the gun.

You jerked your head away from the toothpick. “Yea I am,” you lied in defense, crossing your arms.

Wrecker was standing behind Crosshair, looking for some explosive he could use in the training facility. He wanted to find the ones that made the most impact, excited to show you one of his greatest loves.

The three of you had agreed that when you needed a break from shooting, he could go blow things up and you could watch.

Realizing your eyes had shifted over to the man behind him, Crosshair now grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger and forced you to look back at him. “No, you’re not. You’re distracted, which will get you killed on the field.”

You grabbed onto his wrist, trying to pull the grip on your face loose. “Well, then it’s a good thing I don’t belong on the field, huh?”

Crosshair cocked an eyebrow at you. “I thought you wanted to come with us?”

This made your eyes light up, excitement filled your body and you could barely contain it. “Does this mean I can go with you? If I learn all of this!?”

“No,” The cocky bastard replied. “But it’s still good to know.”

Before you even had the chance to think of some clever remark, Crosshair grabbed your wrist and pulled you in front of him. He stood with his chest against your back and used his hands to guide yours, so you had no chance but to learn how to disassemble and reassemble a gun.

After having repeated the action a couple of times, he stepped aside when the gun was disassembled.

“Alright,” He began, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. “Put it back together properly.”

Your mind instantly drew a blank. You knew this. He literally just showed how to do it, several times. But something about the way he was looking at you and expected from you, made you completely freeze up.

With shaky hands hovering over the different parts, you began mumbling to yourself the instructions he had shown you.

Sighing loudly, Crosshair placed his hand in front of you with a semi-loud slam. “You still weren’t paying attention?”

“N-no, I was!” You stammered, shocked at the obvious annoyance. “Paying attention, that is. I was paying attention.”

“Then you should at least know the buttstock goes into the receiver. It’s the most obvious part of it.”

“I know!” You shouted in defense, not sure why this made you feel like you were being interrogated. “I know, it’s just… I don’t do well under pressure and you keep staring at me and it’s really unnerving and…”

Wrecker interrupted your sudden rant of excuses to Crosshair: “Ah, let it go, Crosshair! It’s not like she’s gonna need it anyways. Just get over with the shooting already, so I can show her where the real fun is!”

His large hand landed on your back in what was probably meant as a supportive clap, but instead ended with knocking all the air out of you. Wrecker really had little-to-no control over his strength around you.

Crosshair grumbled a bit in response, before finally caving and reassembled the gun again. It was the same model as last time. You knew he was a sniper, but it was still odd for you to practice with a sniper rifle. Wouldn’t a smaller gun be more convenient for you to learn?

The start of practice wasn’t much different than last time. Crosshair pulled you into the range, turned on the still targets and waited for you to make the first move.

Fine.

You took the position he had shown you last time and used the fence for support. But you barely managed to put a finger on the trigger, when a hand grabbed your shoulder and aggressively adjusted the butt of the rifle against it.

Angry, you glanced up at the sniper next to you, who wasn’t even acknowledging your existence. Instead he was busy looking at the targets.

For some unknown reason, the fact he actively avoided looking at you made you feel more uneasy, than when he was watching your every move. What did you do to make him like that?

Trying to push away the thoughts and that weird feeling in your stomach, you leaned into the scope and lined up your shot. And like last time, you missed - though not as horribly as your first time ever shooting.

Weird. You were certain you had positioned yourself right. You hadn’t been expecting a bullseye already, but at least be within the vicinity of the target.

Determined to prove that you weren’t completely useless - that you actually had learned something last time - you leaned even closer to the scope, only for a sharp pain to hit your back. The kind where you instantly knew you had done something wrong.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Crosshair stated the obvious, rubbing salt in an already sore wound.

Bitter and kinda hurt about Crosshair's sudden change in approach to you, you stood up straight and threw out your arms in defeat. “You don’t say, Captain Obvious!”

If your hostile tone and sudden change in body posture had any effect on Crosshair, he didn’t show it. His face was unreadable, all except the small twitches of the toothpick between his lips. “Have you listened to anything I’ve told you so far, or has all of this just been a big waste of my time and energy?”

That caught you off guard - something you were nowhere nearly as good at hiding as the man standing before you. His annoyed demeanor and the inability to read his expressions made it sound like he thought spending time with you was the waste. But that couldn’t possibly be it, could it? He always tried to be around you after all. No one who thought you would be a waste of time or energy would do that… Unless they thought they could gain something from you.

A huge knot formed in your stomach at the thought. One so big you could barely breathe - barely stand from just the weight of it. You tried to push it away, tried to rationalize it, tried to do anything to keep it from growing, but the seeds of doubt had been planted and wouldn’t budge.

“Well, sorry I’m not an expert after one time.” You finally replied, your voice sounding more defeated than angry. To make up for the lack of anger in your voice, you threw the gun at him. That’s when another thought popped into your head.

“How do I know you’re so good? So far I’ve never seen you shoot a gun before, you might just be all talk for all I know.”

Crosshair didn’t bite the bait that attempted to anger him. Instead, he just turned to face the targets again, clicked a couple buttons to make them move so fast you were struggling to keep up and lined up a series of shots.

It was over before it had even started. Everything had gone by so fast you could barely keep up and nearly got dizzy from just trying. And once it was over, Crosshair got the target cards and showed them to you. “Does this answer your question?”

In the middle of the card he handed you, he had perfectly shot the first letter of your name. You could barely keep up and he had managed to kriffing write with his shots. You couldn’t help but to just stare in awe at it.

Quick glances from the card to the clone, you finally found your voice again. “I hope you don’t expect me to be able to do this… Cause that’ll happen once Mustafar freezes over.”

“No,” Crosshair scuffed, his voice matching the annoyed look on his face. “But I expect you to listen when I talk to you and not to waste my time.”

“If you think I’m a waste of time, then why even bother being around me?”

You pushed the target cards into the chest of the sniper and turned to walk away, with that weird crippling feeling once again taking place in the pit of your stomach and making breathing harder than usual.

You never got far though, as Crosshair quickly grabbed the hand that had previously held onto the cards and didn’t let you walk away.

“I’m not in the mood, Crosshair. And I already told you, I don’t like it when you toss and pull me around like I’m nothing but some doll you can just play with.”

If Crosshair heard that last remark, he didn’t act on it. Instead he pulled you to lean against the fence separating you from the targets and caged you in with both of his arms on either side of you.

Desperation and panic rose in you and your eyes darted around the room, hoping to find some help or a possible way to escape your sudden cage.

“Why would I think you’re a waste of time?” Crosshair asked, ignoring your obvious discomfort and pitiful attempt to flee.

One hand holding onto dear life on the fence, the other found home on Crosshairs chest as you used all the strength you had in that arm to push. “Crosshair, I’m serious! I don’t like it when you do this! It scares me, so please just let me go!” You half-shouted the last part, hoping somebody nearby could hear you.

“Y/N,” Crosshairs voice was softer than usual and his muscles began relaxing around you. His hands left the fence and came to a rest on your cheeks and his forehead came in contact with yours. “You’re not a waste of time. That’s not what I meant. I brought you here to help with your anxiety -”

“- I -”

“- Don’t have anxiety, I know.”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“You were the one who wanted to come here again. I thought it was because you wanted to learn how to properly shoot. But if you don’t want to learn, then this is a waste of time - time that we don’t have plenty of and can spend on other things. But you, you aren’t a waste of time. Understood?”

“Yea…” You nodded slightly. “You know, I think this is the most you’ve ever said in one go, while talking to me.”

With his usual, annoying smirk, Crosshair lightly nudged your shoulder and said: “Don’t get used to it, Dollface.”

Dividers by: @eloquentmoon and @djarrex

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @thebadbatchscyare @thebahdbitch @salaminus @mybigfatspoonielife @tararosebloodthorn @chxpsi @coffeeandclaws @timothyshousefire @tazmbc1 @nunanuggets @rexandechosandwich @the-good-shittt @showerthoughtsonly @ashotofspotchka @alwayssnivellus @maulsrightleg @lo0nylexi @tech-aficionado @ttzamara @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @scioness-7 @wildmoonflower @wondermia69

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist (and if you want to be added to only this series or all my fics) ❤

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clone-whore-99 · 3 years ago

Text

Troublemaker

Chapter 5: Talk about it

The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Warnings: a lot of angst, again. Other than that, pretty chill chapter. Everybody seems to be worried about Reader. LMK if I missed anything

Authors note: The reason for this chapter taking so long, is definitely not because I've spent hours upon hours reading wookepedia pages, studying screenshots and rewatching clips to make sure everything is as canon as possible. Definitely.

If you like it, please do let me know by liking and commenting and maybe even reblogging, it would mean a lot to me 🥺👉👈

Chapter 1: Arriving at Kamino

Chapter 2: Work, Armor and... Clones?

Chapter 3: Let it out

Chapter 4: You shouldn't have done that

Chapter 6: The 20 Questions Game

Chapter 7: Crosshair

Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

Chapter 9: The Fight

Chapter 10: A Nice Change of Air

Chapter 11: Sore Muscles

Chapter 12: Heavy Rain Weights the Mind

Chapter 13: Waste of Time

The good news was, that the couch in your dads living room was finally being used, for something other than you watching trashy holo dramas. The bad news was, that it was being used to scold you and Crosshair.

Crosshair had been correct in the assumption that the two of you would make it back to the apartment, before your father would get off work. However, he hadn't accounted for Lazie - your dads service droid - being sent back to check up on you and make sure you got something to eat. Only for it to see that you were nowhere to be found and obviously it told your dad.

Hunter was standing behind your dad, waiting for him to finish so he could take over the scolding. The rest of the team was in their barracks. Your dad was pacing back and forth, yelling about how worried he was and when he asks you to go to your room he expects you to stay in the room and blah blah blah.

You weren't really listening. If Crosshair was, he wasn't showing it. He was sitting to your left, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest and his right leg resting over the left one. You, on the other hand, was sitting with your elbows on your knees and with your head resting in your hands.

"Can we pleeease do this later?" you nearly yelled, while rubbing circles into your temples. It felt like your eyes would pop out of your head, if you as much as dared to open them.

Your dad scoffed. "You're the one always complaining that I -"

"It was my fault." Crosshair interrupted your dad. You felt the couch shifting, as he stood up.

"Don't think I'm not blaming you, Cross. You're lucky I like you guys, or I would've gone straight to your lead supervisor and have you decommissioned for kidnapping my daughter."

"I told you I was just going to have an honest heart to heart talk with her." Crosshair hissed.

"And I told you to leave her alone." Your dad poked Crosshair in the chest.

"If I hadn't interfered, Y/N would've gotten herself hurt."

"She's a grown woman, if she hurts herself in one of her little tantrums, then so be it! It's not your job to take care of her."

"No, it's supposed to be yours..."

Your dad looked like he was about to hit Crosshair, when Hunter finally jumped between the two men.

"Guys," his voice was low, but stern. "Let's have this discussion elsewhere, shall we?"

Hunter looked in your direction, causing the other two to follow suit.

After Crosshair got off the couch, you had let yourself slump down to lie in a fetal position, with your hands covering your ears to keep the noise out. Your eyes were still closed, and you trying so hard to think about anything, but the dunking pain in your head.

You thought back to the shooting range and how much fun it had been. How, when you first hit the center of the target, Crosshair had been forced to step back, so you could jump up and down in excitement. How proud he had looked, when you had managed to hit the center several times on your own. And how you had looked like a complete fool, jumping around and doing little celebratory dances every time.

It was such a shame that you had to stop, but you felt like you were going blind on your dominent eye. You had overstrained it and by the time your vision came back, your head felt like it was going to explode.

When you opened your eyes again, there was no sign of the three men, who had just been standing in front of you. Nor was there any sign of your headache.

It took you a minute to realise that you must've fallen asleep. At some point during the night, either your dad or one of the clones must've put a medpatch on you to help with the pain and a blanket to keep you warm. You couldn't help the little smile that appeared at the thought.

You decided to spend your surprise day off in a very productive manner. By lying on the couch, catching up on your favorite trash holo dramas.

It was rare for your dad to give you time off, unless it was in order to punish you. And when that happened, you were always just confined to your room. Though you had no proof, you were certain it was one of the members from Clone Force 99 that was the reason for your time off.

After having spent the majority of the day consuming trash, you felt like you needed a shower. Badly. You probably smelt like it too.

"Y/N, sweety?" Your dad called out from the entrance.

"In a minute, I'm in the 'fresher!" You yelled over the sound of the shower.

"Take your time, fruitcakes."

Oh no, he called you fruitcakes. He only called you that when something was wrong. Was that why he was back so soon? It was only dinner time, dad was never back by dinner time. What could possibly be so important, that he got back early from work and called you fruitcakes? Did something happen? Was he going to ship you away again?

You shook your head, trying to push away the millions of thought racing through your mind. So what if he wanted to get rid of you? You had wanted to get away from that force forsaken planet anyways!

Barely having gotten the soap washed off your body, you stepped out of the shower and quickly got dressed again. You took a couple of deep breathes, trying to calm your nerves before heading out to face the inevitable.

"What's up, dad?" your voice was way calmer than you.

"Have a seat sweetheart, I've managed to get us some Glowblue Noodles and Chav for dinner." Okay, this was freaky.

You hesitantly sat by the barely used dinner table. "Is something wrong?" No need to beat around the bush, might as well bite the sour fruit before it'll hurt too much.

"Not... Really, why?"

You shrugged. "You're home early from work. You're eating dinner with me. You called me Fruitcakes. You only call me Fruitcakes when you have bad news."

"I just managed to get a break from work and figured that we haven't really sat down and eaten dinner together in years, so..."

And whose fault is that?

For a moment, the only sound filling the room was that of cutlery hitting the plate. If it weren't for the anticipation of whatever your dad was trying to avoid telling you, it might even have been nice to sit like that.

"You're awfully quiet. Are, ehm, do you not like the food?" your dad finally broke the silence.

"No, it's fine." you were resting your head on your knuckles, while pushing the noodles around with your fork.

Your dad shifted nervously in his chair. "Y/N, sweetheart, fruitcakes... Did something happen?"

This caused you to finally straighten up in your seat and look at him. His eyes were filled with worry. "What do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, did something happen to you over the last couple of years?"

"You mean, besides the galactic wide war that's been happening?" you scoffed.

Your dad looked around the room nervously. "Both Tech and Crosshair says they've caught you having panic attacks... And with how hostile and - let's be honest - kinda promiscuous you've been acting lately, well Tech thought -"

"Panic attacks? I don't, panic.. and PROMISCUOUS!? I - I don't even know what to say, dad! What I do, when I'm... I can't believe you talked to the guys about this! I thought Crosshair was lying when he said you had told him I was sleeping around, but apparently not!" You were so mad you could barely think straight.

"That's not what I meant, Fruitcakes." He replied low, looking like someone who had just been caught red handed.

"So what? Have you been walking around, advertising to all the men here about how much of a whore your kid is?"

"NO! I WOULD NEVER -" your dad cut himself off right as he had slammed his hand on the table.

You stood up and started heading for the door, not wanting to be in the same room as your dad any longer. In fact, you weren't entirely sure you wanted to be on the same planet as him.

"Maybe," he whispered low, pinching the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger. "Maybe bringing you here was a mistake afterall..."

Your heart sank. There it was. The thing you had dreaded all night for him to say. "Of course it was." Your voice was shaky. "You hate having to spend too much time around me afterall, right?"

"That's not -" You were gone.

You didn't have any specific goal in mind, about where you were headed. You just knew you had to get away and preferably without meeting anybody on the way. Which was near impossible in a place such as Tipoca City.

After having walked in what felt like forever, you sat down for a quick rest. The last couple of corridors you had gone down had barely been populated and the few that did walk by, didn't even acknowledge your existence.

Untill a pair of boots came at a halt right next to you. The boots turned from facing you to face the opposite wall and you heard a quiet 'clank' from the armor colliding with the steel wall.

Silence.

You were waiting for the person next to you to speak, to tell you off, tell you how you couldn't just run off when you got mad or you couldn't just sit in the middle of the hallway, but he didn't.

He just stood there. Waiting for you to make the first move.

With a soft sigh, you finally gave in and broke the silence, "Do you always play with your knife around women, or am I just that special?"

That earned you a soft, but honest chuckle. "I almost thought you hadn't noticed me. Too busy staring at that wall,- not that I blame you. It is a pretty interesting wall." It was a blinding white, bare wall.

Hunter sat down next to you, accompanying you in your staring contest with the wall.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," You hugged your knees to your chest.

"Alright."

Silence. Again.

The only noise was the low swish sounds the vibroblade made, whenever it twirled around between Hunters fingers.

"Are you going to bring me back?" You didn't have to ask why he had come. You knew why.

"Do you want to go back?"

"No.."

"Then no."

This caused you to turn to face him in shock, though Hunter was still maintaining the stare-off with the wall.

"Then why are you here?" You asked in disbelief. The only reason he had to have come, was because your dad asked him to find you, right?

"You seem like you needed company." He tilted his head in your direction.

"I don't want your company." You muttered, going back to stare at the wall again.

Now it was Hunter's turn to look away from the wall and towards you. "What you need and what you want are two different things."

You just huffed in response.

Not letting silence fall over the two of you again, Hunter put his knife back in it's holster and then gently nudged you with his elbow. "I don't think the wall is going to get anymore interesting than this. What do you say, we go somewhere else?"

You shrugged. "Fine, I guess..."

That was all he needed, before Hunter was back on his feet and holding a helping hand out to you.

"So, what weird adventure are you going to take me on?" You asked, while grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up on your feet.

"Adventure?" Hunter raised his eyebrow quizzically.

You smirked at him, then held your hand up to count on your fingers, as you walked side by side. "So far, Wrecker has brought me to the cantina, Tech brought me... Well, I don't know where he brought me, but it was dirty and smelled weird, and Crosshair brought me to a shooting range. So, where are you bringing me?"

Hunter nodded along with your listing. "Well, since you don't want to go home, I was thinking about bringing you to our barracks. If that's okay?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of being in their barracks, though you still nodded. "Okay."

"-You see the problem?" You asked Hunter, when the door to their barracks opened up and you were hit by the odd smell, you had only experienced once before.

"I'll have Tech make you a map." Hunter assured you, as he led you inside the room.

"A map over what?" Tech asked, but before you could answer, Wrecker jumped up from the couch.

"Y/N! Ad'ika!" If Wreckers loud voice hadn't woken up the men sleeping, your shrieks from being picked up by the waist like you weighted nothing would.

You were spun around in the air before Wrecker pulled you in for a big hug. "I've missed you!"

"You've only known me for one day!" You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "But I guess I've missed you too."

"A map over what?" Tech asked again, this time more annoyed that he had to repeat himself.

Wrecker put you back down again and Hunter placed a hand on your back to steady you, as he finally answered Tech: "Tipoca City. Y/N says she's still struggling to find her way around here."

"You still haven't figured that out?" Crosshair sneered. He was sitting in his bunk, wearing nothing but his body glove and was clearly irked that he had been woken up for no reason.

"Y/N didn't grow up here like we did, so it's to be expected that she's going to struggle figuring out her way around the structure of the city, especially when it all looks so similar to the untrained eye." Tech defended you, with a raised finger to bring home his point. Or, at least you think he was defending you.

"So, can you make me a map?"

Tech looked almost offended that you would even dare to ask such a thing. "Obviously. I'll get to it, once I'm done with this," and just like that, his attention went from you, back to whatever weird thing he was tinkering with.

"What are you working on?" You maneuvered to your best extent through the mess of the room, towards what looked like a make-shift worktable that was placed in front of what you could only assume was Tech's bunk.

Tech looked at you searchingly, as if he was doubting whether or not you actually wanted to know. However, once you tilted your head in curiousity, he went back to focus on his task.

"The medics on Anaxes removed all of the nonessential moderations that the Techno Union had added to Echo, but ever since then, he's been complaining about pains and hearing problems on his left ear. I am looking at the device, which was attached to his ear when we found him, in an attempt to figure out if it had anything to do with these complains, and if so, how to replicate and improve it's uses."

Tech was explaining it, as if you had been along with them on their mission and therefore all of this should just be obvious. You just nodded slowly, as if you understood.

"Echo is the reason we're back already." Hunter explained with the same assumption that you just automatically knew who - or what - Echo was.

"Yea, and then it's back in action!" Wrecker added, hitting his fist into the palm of his hand as a display of strength.

You instantly noticed the absense of Crosshair, who had previously been sitting on the bunk not far from the couch Wrecker was resting in. You quickly turned around, to find him leaning against the wall right behind you, giving you his usual devious smirk. You knew he had planned on startling you again.

Even though you had caught him, Crosshair still leaned dangerously close to your in order to tease you, "Echo's the reg sleeping in the hammock."

"Or at least trying to," A voice errupted from the red hammock behind Techs workspace, before a very frail looking man sat up. "If you guys weren't so noisy."

You couldn't help but to feel bad. The poor guy looked like he hadn't eaten, slept or seen the sun in a long time. His appearance could best be described as that of a love child between a human and a droid. You wanted nothing more but to hug him.

"Sorry... I-I shouldn't have come." You quickly stepped backwards, away from the three men.

You let out a small yelp, when you accidentally bumped into Hunter. He didn't seem to mind though, as he placed a supporting hand on your shoulder and turned you to face him.

"I invited you here, Y/N, so you don't have to leave, unless that is what you want to." Hunter tried to assure you, while bending down in an attempt to gain eyecontact.

Echo let out a tired sigh. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, mesh'la, I'm just not really used to this new look, I guess."

Your heart sank at Echo's apology. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel bad about himself. "You didn't scare me, it's just.." You shook your head. "It's been a long, dumb evening, that's all."

"Do you not have anywhere to stay?" Echo asked. This caused the rest of the squad to exchange glances, while your face turned red with embarrassment.

"N-no, I do, it's just -"

"Y/N is Laquans kid." Tech interrupted you.

Echos eyes went wide with the realization, before he awkwardly looked away.

Almost as if Hunter could sense your blood starting to boil with anger before you could, he quickly placed an assuring hand on your shoulder again. "We don't have to take this talk right now."

The muscles in your body started tensing up again and Hunter tightened his grib on your shoulder in an attempt to keep you grounded.

You glanced up at the long haired soldier, who in return gave you a look of worry and care. You then let your gaze discretely wander from man to man, before closing them and letting out an annoyed sigh.

"Can you guys please stop looking at me, like I'm about to explode any second now? It's not really helping.." You say with a humorless laugh.

They all apologized in their own weird way, before going back to whatever they were doing before you walked in. All except Hunter, who was still holding tightly onto your shoulder and seemingly trying to figure out what to do with you.

You looked back up at him again, with heavy, tired and pleading eyes. "Is there any where I can sleep for the night, that won't require me going back?"

"You can have my bunk, I'll sleep on the couch."

You shook your head. "I'm not gonna steal your bed, Hunter. I'm a guest here, so if anything, I should be the one sleeping on the couch."

"Or you could stay in my bunk," Crosshair added, already sitting on the edge his bunk again. "I won't mind sharing."

You turned your head to give the marksman a tired glance. After thinking about it for a second, you let out a deep sigh and asked: "Do you promise not to have any wandering hands?"

"I'm not gonna do anything you wouldn't want, dollface."

You looked back at Hunter, who gave you a weak nod. "He's not going to try anything. And if he does, I'll know it right away and put an end to it."

With a weak nod, you made your way over to where Crosshair was sitting. The look in his eyes told you, that he wasn't actually expecting you to take him up on the offer.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Dividers by: @djarrex and @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @thebadbatchscyare @thebahdbitch @salaminus @mybigfatspoonielife @tararosebloodthorn

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