#it's the way sam looks so utterly in disbelief

[partiallypearl]

Mary Mouser and Tanner Buchanan as Samantha "Sam" LaRusso and Robby Keene in Cobra Kai S4EP1 - Let's Begin

[brunchable]

FREAKY FRIDAY | Body Swapped Steve Rogers x f!reader.

Pairings: Johnny Storm Possessed Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Body Swap. Sexual Themes. Funny? Horndog Johnny, for an unknown reason, body-swapped with Steve. Summary: You woke up with Steve suddenly out of character and having an overflowing amount of rizz. A/N: It's comedy central in my blog this week. . . I can't help but insert one particular meme lmao

taggies: @mrsevans90

Like you did every morning, you woke up to the gentle warmth of Steve next to you, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you today. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

"Morning, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice smoother than usual. You blinked in surprise. Sure, Steve was affectionate, but this was... new. 

You smiled back, albeit a little wary. 

"Good morning?" Before you could say anything more, he captured your lips in a kiss that was how to describe it-more confident, more playful than his usual gentle morning kisses. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, someone's in a good mood today,” you said, trying to shake off the weird vibe. 

Steve just grinned and gave you a little wink. "What can I say? I'm just appreciating my girl." 

You squirmed under his intense gaze. You couldn't help but notice how his hand casually trailed down your arm, lingering a little longer than usual. You weren't sure if you should feel flattered or... flustered.

“Should we stay in bed a little while? You know…” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively as he wiggled his brows.

But this time, he didn’t stop there. As he leaned in closer, he slowly stuck out his tongue and wiggled it playfully, making his intentions blatantly clear.

Your face immediately turned bright red.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, quickly pressing your hand to his lips and pushed him away to stop him before he got any closer, utterly flustered by the suggestive gesture.

He chuckled against your hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. For a second, you felt him wiggle his tongue against your palm, teasing you further before you jerked your hand back with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Unbelievable!” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more.

He gave you a devilish grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“What? Just offering some ideas, sweetheart,” he teased, giving you a playful wink.

“No, Sam’s going to be here soon for your morning run, so go prepare.”

The excitement drained from his face, “I do?” 

“Yes!” 

Johnny—or rather, the man you thought was Steve—let out a low chuckle, clearly unfazed by your refusal. This wasn't like Steve at all. Steve was always respectful, sweet, and… well, a gentleman. But today? He seemed like a different man entirely.

“Guess I forgot,” he said with a smirk, sitting up slowly and stretching. His tone was casual, but the grin he gave you was anything but innocent.

As he shifted in bed, he leaned back casually and gave a quick, deliberate glance downwards before gesturing toward the noticeable outline in his sweatpants. The fabric clung snugly, revealing the distinct, firm shape of his dick pressing against the material, enough to leave little to the imagination.

“But if you change your mind about staying in bed…” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you know where to find me.”

You blinked in disbelief, your cheeks burning as he got out of bed and strolled toward the bathroom. He threw one last playful wink at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you there in a state of complete confusion.

"What the hell is going on with him today?" you muttered to yourself.

You climbed out of bed and started to get ready for the day, you tried to shake off the feeling that something was… off. Maybe Steve was just in a playful mood? Maybe he was testing out some new approach to your relationship, though you couldn't help but wonder where it had come from all of a sudden.

But, soon enough, you heard the front door open and Sam's voice echoed through the apartment. "Yo, Rogers! Are you ready for our run?"

You peeked out from the bedroom just in time to see "Steve" step out of the bathroom, giving you another grin before heading out to meet Sam. He greeted him casually, as if everything was perfectly normal.

Sam looked over at you with a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Morning.”

“Morning,” you replied, though your voice sounded more distant than usual. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look directly at Sam, worried your face might give away just how weird the morning had been.

As they left for their run, you were left alone, still wondering why Steve was acting so differently. But then, you shook your head. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe he was just feeling particularly confident today. Either way, it was Steve, your Steve, and you trusted him.

Right?

× × × ×

You made breakfast while ‘Steve’ is out on a run. You tried to shake off your confusion by busying yourself with making coffee. It wasn't helping. The memory of Steve's unusually bold behaviour lingered in your mind. 

And just when you were about to pour yourself a cup, you felt a sudden smack on your ass. You yelped in surprise, nearly spilling the coffee. Whipping around, you saw Steve standing there with a smug grin on his face, looking very proud of himself. 

"Steve!" you gasped, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. "What are you—" 

"What?" he said with an innocent shrug, though his mischievous grin betrayed him. "Just saying hello." 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By smacking me on my ass?”

“Can't help it, you look too cute when you're all focused," he teased, stepping closer. 

His hands slid around your waist, and before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. Your breath hitched. This was not the Steve Rogers you knew. But as much as his behaviour was throwing you off, you couldn't deny the butterflies his actions stirred in your stomach. 

"Steve, what's gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Instead of answering, Steve leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, peppering kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, and your nose—until you were giggling uncontrollably.

“Steve, stop it!” you laughed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your laughter was cut short as his lips trailed lower, brushing down to the side of your neck. The playful atmosphere shifted instantly, your breath hitching in your throat. His kisses became more deliberate, slow and teasing, sending sparks of heat through your skin.

“Steve…” you whispered, but your words melted into a quiet gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He lingered there, pressing soft, lingering kisses, making your pulse race.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, and without warning, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking gently but with enough pressure that you knew he was leaving a mark. A deep, guttural hum escaped him as he continued, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled your body against him.

The sensation of his lips and the gentle tugging of his teeth made your head spin, and you instinctively tilted your head, giving him better access. 

“Steve,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into his.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered against your skin between kisses. “You drive me crazy.”

His voice was low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. He sucked on your neck again, his tongue flicking over the spot before he pulled back slightly to admire his work.

"You’re gonna have to explain this one," he murmured with a grin, his lips ghosting over your ear, still hovering close enough to keep you breathless.

× × × ×

For the next hour, you tried to regain some composure, but it was hard with the heat of Steve’s kisses still tingling on your neck. Every time you moved, you could feel the slight sting of the mark he’d left behind, a not-so-gentle reminder of how wild this morning had been.

After making the bed and tidying up, you decided to head to the living room to relax for a bit, hoping that "Steve" had calmed down from whatever flirty streak had taken over him. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little… off. He's been too quiet.

You stepped into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw practically hitting the floor.

There, casually sprawled on the couch, was Steve in his birthday suit. Stark naked. The only thing covering him was your guitar, strategically placed across his lap. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch, while his free hand strummed lazily at the strings.

He looked up as if nothing was out of the ordinary, a casual, half-lidded grin spreading across his face. 

“Hey,” he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Steve… what the hell are you doing?” you finally stammered, struggling to form coherent words as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

He shrugged nonchalantly, still strumming the guitar. 

“Just thought I’d serenade my girl.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head. “You know, I think I’m getting better at this guitar thing.”

Your cheeks flamed red as your gaze flickered between his shamelessly exposed body and the guitar that, frankly, wasn’t doing the best job at covering much.

“Put some clothes on!” you squeaked, your face burning from the sight in front of you. “What if someone walks in? Sam might—"

“Sam’s gone,” he cut in smoothly, winking. “It’s just you and me, babe.” He tilted his head, clearly amused by your reaction. “Besides, you weren’t complaining this morning.”

You could feel the heat rising to your face again, this time in full force. "That doesn't mean you get to... to do this!" 

He just smirked, lazily leaning back on the couch, the guitar still resting against him. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Steve, for the love of everything, PLEASE, just put some clothes on,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow erase the image from your brain.

Instead of listening, he suddenly stood up, the guitar still barely covering anything, and with the confidence of someone performing at a sold-out show, he started singing. Loudly. 

“And you're kissin' on my neck, I'm like, “Oh”, Got your hands up on my chest, I'm like, “Oh”” he belted out dramatically, grinning ear to ear as he took a step toward you, his voice echoing through the room. 

You panicked. 

"Oh my God, Steve! No!" you squealed, immediately clamping your hands over your ears, turning away from him as fast as possible

“Kiss me 'til there's nothin' left, Oh my god, oh my god!” he sang even louder, walking toward you like some rock star, his guitar still precariously covering him as he inched closer. 

You darted behind the coffee table, creating a barrier between the two of you, your face blazing red. 

“Lalalalalalalala!” You covered your ears tighter, trying to block out the sight and sound of your naked boyfriend serenading you. “Lalalalalalala! I can't hear you.”

But he wasn't stopping. If anything, your reaction only encouraged him further. 

“Why are you running, baby?”

He grinned wickedly, circling around the coffee table like a predator playing with his prey. "You could really tear me apart, but- I love you like that, Everything you do just turns me on, I love you like that, Body on my mind like all night long.” 

You squeaked and moved in the opposite direction, keeping the table between you, but Steve—guitar still precariously positioned—was unstoppable, matching your every move. It was ridiculous, like a slow-motion chase scene in a rom-com, but you couldn’t help but laugh through your embarrassment.

"Steve! Seriously, stop!" you cried out, ducking and weaving as he chased you around the table, his singing never faltering.

"I love you like that!" he belted, reaching out with one hand as if trying to grab you. You yelped, dodging him by moving to the other side.

"Lalalalalalalala!" you cried, your hands clamped tighter over your ears as you rushed toward the door, desperate to escape.

His laughter echoed in the living room, the sound of his voice-and that ridiculous guitar performance following you as you fled to the safety of the kitchen. Behind you, you could hear him laughing even harder. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stop!" he called after you, his voice still tinged with amusement. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your face still burning red. Today was officially out of control. 

And this wasn't the Steve Rogers you signed up for.

× × × × 

As the day finally wound down, you were still trying to recover from the whirlwind of events that had unfolded earlier. After a long, flirty, and borderline chaotic day with “Steve,” you were just glad it was almost bedtime.

You had managed to avoid another musical performance from him after the whole guitar incident, but the playful energy hadn’t completely faded. As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, you could feel his eyes on you from across the room, watching your every move.

“Don’t even think about it,” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

He was lounging on the bed, shirtless now, with that same mischievous grin you’d been seeing all day. 

“What?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your mouth. “You know exactly what.”

He laughed, the sound low and smooth as he got up and sauntered over to you, his bare feet padding quietly against the hardwood floor. Before you could react, he was behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring how cute you look in your pajamas,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to the heat of his skin against yours. 

“Steve, it’s been a long day,” you said, your voice weary but laced with affection. “Can we just... go to bed? Without any more surprises?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering for just a second before pulling away with a grin. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

You gave him a playful glare, narrowing your eyes as you turned to face him. “You said that earlier today, and then I walked into the living room and—”

“Okay, this time I’ll behave,” he interrupted with a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Promise.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but smile. He may have been driving you absolutely crazy today, but this version of Steve—or Johnny, whoever he really was—was still undeniably charming in his own chaotic way.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you both crawled into bed, the covers cool against your skin. Steve—or, well, Johnny—rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he gazed at you with that playful smirk.

“You sure you don’t want a little bedtime serenade?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive.

You groaned and pulled the blanket up over your head, burying yourself beneath the covers. “No!” you said, your voice muffled. “We’re done with that for today!”

He laughed again, the sound warm and contagious as he settled down beside you. The teasing faded, replaced by a softer, more familiar warmth as his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle now as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You peeked out from under the covers, smiling despite yourself. “Goodnight, Steve.”

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how long this flirty version of Steve would last—and whether or not you were ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stirred awake, the early light filtering through the curtains, and you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms slipping around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned into the embrace at first—until the events of the previous day rushed back to you. Your eyes snapped open, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped slightly, pulling away from the arms that had suddenly felt different, your heart pounding.

“Whoa, hey—what’s wrong?” Steve's voice came out soft, laced with confusion and concern. You turned over to face him, and instantly, you could tell something had changed. His eyes weren’t twinkling mischievously, there was no sly grin or playful wink. Instead, his brow was furrowed in concern, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you again.

“Steve?” you whispered, your voice hesitant, scanning his face. He looked… like himself again. That quiet, gentle warmth was back, the one that had been missing yesterday.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, still looking concerned. “Are you okay? You jumped like I startled you.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft and careful, nothing like the bold, confident gestures from the day before.

You blinked at him, your mind racing. The contrast between today and yesterday was stark. Yesterday, he had been all cocky smirks and teasing touches, constantly riling you up. But now? Now, Steve seemed completely aware of what had happened, but wasn’t letting on.

“I—uh, I’m fine,” you stammered, still trying to process it all. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Steve frowned, clearly still confused by your reaction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your arm as he studied you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but your heart was still racing. "Yeah… you’re just… different from yesterday."

His brow furrowed further, but now there was something else behind his eyes. He looked like he was holding something back. “Different? What do you mean?” he asked, though you could sense he already knew.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Yesterday, you were just… more… flirty,” you said carefully, watching his reaction. “Like, a lot more. You were… singing to me. Naked. With my guitar.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his face turning red almost instantly, but there was something else—recognition. “What? I—I did that?” He didn’t seem shocked by the words, more by the fact that you were telling him.

You nodded, your own face heating up at the memory. “Yeah. And you were… really, really bold. Smacking my butt, picking me up, kissing me all over…"

Steve's gaze drifted down, and before you could even say another word, his fingers gently brushed against your neck, right where Johnny had left that bold mark. His touch was tender at first, but the moment his thumb traced over the small bruise, his entire expression shifted. 

"That motherfucker! I'm going to kill him!”

[rositaslabyrinth]

Castiel “Castles crumbling”

Castiel x fem!reader

Helping cas recover after losing his grace

Words ; 943

The warehouse was unnervingly quiet now, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of smoke clung to the air, a suffocating reminder of the fight that had just ended.

Your legs carried you forward on instinct, the weight of everything that had just happened settling on your chest. Dean and Sam were a few steps behind, speaking in hushed tones about their next move, but their words faded into background noise as your eyes locked on Castiel.

He was slumped against the cold, concrete wall, his trench coat hanging off his shoulders like it was too heavy for him to bear. His head was tilted back, his eyes half-closed, and for the first time, he looked truly, utterly defeated.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was something deeper, something that made your throat tighten and your heart twist painfully in your chest.

You dropped to your knees beside him, hesitating only for a moment before reaching out. “Cas?”

His eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice, but they didn’t hold the piercing light you were used to. They were dull now, almost lifeless. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head faintly. “You shouldn’t…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“Don’t say that,” you said quickly, your hand hovering over his arm, unsure if he would pull away. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

He let out a dry, bitter laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “Help me? You can’t help what’s already broken.”

“Cas—”

“I’m nothing now,” he interrupted, his tone sharper, more biting. His gaze shifted away from you, fixing somewhere in the distance. “My grace is gone. I’ve fallen. I was an angel of the Lord, and now I’m…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Now you’re human,” you finished for him, your voice soft.

His head turned sharply, and for a moment, his expression was one of disbelief—maybe even anger. “Human,” he echoed bitterly. “Do you have any idea what that means? I’ve lost everything. My purpose, my power, my… everything I was. My foes and friends alike have seen me fall.” His voice cracked, and he looked away again, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know how it could’ve ended this way.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you struggled to keep your voice steady as you reached for him again. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, your thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “You are not nothing, Castiel. Do you hear me? You’re still you. You’re the one who saved me, who saved Dean and Sam, who saved the world more times than I can count. You’ve fought for humanity, for people you didn’t even know, and for what? To tell me now that you’re nothing? I won’t let you say that.”

His blue eyes, so dull and lifeless moments ago, searched yours now, and you saw the cracks in the wall he was trying so desperately to keep up. “I’ve failed,” he whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’ve only ever caused pain. To Heaven. To you.”

“You haven’t failed,” you said, your voice trembling as you leaned closer. “You’ve done more good than you’ll ever know. And you’re not alone. Do you hear me? You’ll never be alone.”

His hands came up hesitantly, resting over yours as if grounding himself in your touch. “I don’t know how to be this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to be… human.”

“You don’t have to figure it out on your own,” you said, leaning your forehead against his. “You have me. You have Dean and Sam. You have us, Cas. And we’re not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of your words hanging in the space between you. Then, slowly, he leaned into you, his hands tightening slightly over yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, the air between you shifting. There was a hesitation in his expression, a question he didn’t voice aloud. But when he leaned in, the kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid you might break under his touch.

You kissed him back, your fingers threading through his hair, pouring everything you couldn’t say into that moment—your admiration, your affection, your love.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time since Metatron had stolen his grace, there was a faint light in his eyes.

“Uh, hate to interrupt your little moment,” Dean’s voice cut through the quiet, making you jump, “but we gotta get moving. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t move far from Castiel. His hand found yours, and when you glanced at him, his expression was soft but steady.

Dean raised a brow but didn’t comment further, leading the way out with Sam close behind.

As the four of you left the warehouse, Castiel’s hand remained in yours, his grip firm and grounding. He might have lost his grace, his power, and the castle he’d once built, but as you walked beside him, you silently vowed to help him rebuild—brick by brick, piece by piece.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[delicatebarness]

The Avengers Bunch | What the Flerken?! #003

Summary: Bucky finds a cat and brings it back to the compound. But, that's no cat.

Warning: Mentions of Dry Heaving.

Word Count: 795

Series Masterlist | Tips

Requested: Yes - Anon Request

Tags: @somnorvos |

Bucky wasn’t expecting to find anything of importance while trudging through the city, he just wanted a moment of solace in the bustling streets of New York City. But, once again, fate had other plans for the ex-assassin. 

A soft whimper caught his attention causing him to halt, his gaze scanning the alley intently. Curiosity arose as he approached, his hand hovering over the hilt of his knife.

Drawing closer, he came to the realization that the figure was… just a cat. Staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Hey there, little guy,” Bucky murmured as he knelt, extending his hand to the cat. “You lost?” 

To his surprise, it didn’t recoil. Instead, the cat leaned into his touch with a faint purr that tugged at his heart. Without a second thought, Bucky scooped the cat up in his arms and headed back to the compound. 

The cat nestled comfortably in Bucky’s arms, during their way back to the compound Bucky had decided that the cat would be called ‘Alpine’.

As they arrived back at the compound, Bucky set Alpine down on the floor. Turning his back to fetch a dish, Bucky hoped to establish some authority. 

The sound of shattering glass made him whirl around. His heart raced as he witnessed Alpine’s tentacles spring forth. They knocked over vases and sent objects flying across the room.

“What the hell?!” Bucky exclaimed, he rushed to try and contain the chaos.

~

Bucky was determined to keep the ‘cat’ occupied as the weeks went on. He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to find the cat food. He opened it and set out a bowl in front of Alpine. 

“Here, just don’t…” he trailed off as he watched the ‘cat’ step closer to the bowl.

Alpine sniffed the food before opening her mouth wide. Bucky’s eyes widened as he witnessed the rows of razor-sharp teeth and tentacles devour the whole bowl in an instant. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Bucky muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Stark’s gonna be mad if any more bowls go missing,” a voice said from the kitchen door. Bucky’s gaze snapped to yours. You stood watching the entire exchange, quietly eating a bowl of cereal. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “I thought it was a cat,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

~

Exhausted from the day’s mission, Bucky collapsed onto the couch, he had been hoping for a moment of peace. However, Alpine had other ideas. She leaped onto his lap and began to dry heave.

“On no, no no, not on the couch-” Bucky began, but it was too late as with the final heave, Alpine puked up Sam Wilson. He came up tumbling onto the couch, looking utterly disoriented, and slightly damp.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam groaned, taking in his bearings.

“She thought you were a bird…” your voice trailed off. You stood by the common room door, sipping on your milkshake, an amused look on your face at the scene unfolding.

Bucky shot you a look of frustration. “Do you have nothing better to do?” Bucky asked you.

You grinned, taking another sip. “You’re cute when you’re flushed, Barnes,” you replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Erm, hello?” Sam groaned again, trying to sit up.

~

Bucky woke to find Alpine staring at him, her glowing eyes eerily looking down at him in the darkness. He braced himself for an attack, his body tensing. Yet, Alpine simply curled up next to him, brushing her face against his Vibranium arm. 

“You’re not so bad, are you?” He whispered, smiling down at Alpine. She purred as they both relaxed into each other.

~

Bucky decided to take Alpine into the common areas of the compound, hoping she could showcase the work Bucky had put into her training. 

“Just be cool, alright?” He muttered under his breath.

But, he spoke too soon as her tentacles lashed out. She knocked over furniture and caused immediate panic. Tony ducked to avoid a flying lamp, while Natasha vaulted over the couch, dodging a tentacle. 

“Control your pet, Barnes” Tony yelled, bringing up a holographic shield from his nanotech. 

“I’m trying!” Bucky shouted back as he struggled to reign in the creature.

~

Despite the chaos Alpine brought into his life, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a growing affection toward her. They sat together by a window, watching the grounds below.

“You’re not so bad, considering the amount of trouble you cause,” he sighed as he gently scratched behind Alpine’s ear.

She purred, nuzzling again his hand. In that quiet moment, they sensed a mutual understanding and accepted each other.  

Later, they curled up together on the couch, and Bucky felt at peace. Finding an unlikely friendship, that he never knew he needed.

---

Series Masterlist

[swan-of-sunrise]

A Night on the Town

Summary: Steve and (Y/N)’s first date, as told through the eyes of an extremely nervous ninety-seven year old super-soldier and a lovestruck historical-fiction novelist.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Today, we'll be getting a little look at Steve and Booksmart's first date after the Battle of Sokovia but before the last chapter of Age of Ultron, and I'll warn you now that there's so much freaking fluff in this one-shot! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

A Night on the Town May 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

Ever since taking the super-soldier serum in 1943, Steve Rogers had grown accustom to dangerous battles filled with death-defying stunts and adrenaline-inducing action. He almost never experienced pre-battle jitters and now that he was cementing himself in the twenty-first century alongside a team of other similarly super-powered people, he knew that there was no need to be nervous with his fellow Avengers fighting at his side, no matter if they were battling aliens from the opposite end of space or murderous androids controlled by artificial-intelligence. But as he parked his motorcycle on the street in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house, Steve’s heart pounded in his chest and after switching off the engine, he was forced to wipe his clammy hands off on his dark jeans.

“It’s just a date, Rogers…” He reassured himself, getting off the motorcycle and reaching into the back compartment to retrieve the bouquet of pink roses he’d carefully picked out for (Y/N). “A date with a woman who’s completely and utterly out of your league.” When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he nudged the compartment closed and withdrew the device to see who was texting him on his day off, only to heave a sigh when he saw that it was Natasha.

Nat: Go get her, super-soldier 😉

Nat: You’d better give me all the tea tomorrow, or else I’ll decorate your shield with stickers.

Nat: Have fun!

“What the hell does ‘the tea’ mean…?” Steve murmured to himself as he shook his head at the spy’s eccentricities and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to make sure that the roses hadn’t begun to wilt on the drive over and when he was satisfied with their appearance, he made his way up the driveway by the familiar yellow Volkswagen Bug and stepped onto the porch; nervously swallowing and wincing at how dry his throat had become, Steve ran a hand through his hair before pressing the doorbell and taking a step back, a smile making its way onto his face despite the anxiety fluttering away in his stomach.

Moments later, the door swung open to reveal (Y/N) and the breath was instantly knocked out of his lungs at the stunning sight. The historical-fiction novelist was dressed in an off-the-shoulder green blouse, short black jean skirt, sheer black tights and dark brown ankle boots, and her (Y/H/C) hair was fixed in the same intricate style she’d worn to the party at the Avengers Tower. Silver hoop earrings and a delicate book-shaped pendant accentuated the graceful slope of her neck, and her subtle touches of makeup brought out the sparkle in her (Y/E/C) eyes. While Steve stared in stunned disbelief, the hints of apprehension written across (Y/N)’s face melted away into a sweet, red-hued smile that he couldn’t help but return tenfold. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, (Y/N). You…You look so beautiful.” The historical-fiction novelist mumbled a bashful word of thanks and Steve held the bouquet out for her to take. “These are for you. I, um, I remember you saying in one of your emails that pink roses were your favorite.”

(Y/N) beamed as she accepted the bouquet of roses and took in their sweet-smelling scent. “They’re stunning, Steve, thank you! Let me just put these in some water-”

“I’ve got it, Booksmart.” A smirking Sam appeared at the doorway with his roommate’s purse in his hands, swapping her for the bouquet and giving Steve a look of exaggerated sternness. “Good to see you, Cap. So, you two’ve got a fun night planned; you’re gonna have her home at a respectful time, right?”

“Hi, Sam. I-”

“You don’t have to answer him, Steve, he’s just being a smart-ass.” After flashing Steve a smile, (Y/N) shot her best friend a glare and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than annoy us, Birdbrain?”

Sam dramatically sighed and shook his head. “Sadly, not all of us are lucky enough to snag a date with a super-soldier, but I might meet up with Nat later and go to that new bar that just opened downtown. You two have fun, but not too much fun!”

They stepped down off the porch and made their way down the driveway to Steve’s motorcycle, and (Y/N) waited until the front door closed behind Sam to heave an exasperated sigh. “He’s a real character, isn’t he?”

“He’s certainly one of a kind, that’s for sure.” They both chuckled as he reached into his bike’s back compartment and withdrew the spare helmet. “I haven’t been out to very many restaurants here in D.C., so I was hoping that you’d know of a good one we can eat at tonight. Whatever you’d like, I’m game.”

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up in excitement as she fastened the helmet’s strap under her chin. “In that case, there’s a great food truck downtown that serves, hands-down, the best Mexican food. How does that sound?”

Steve straddled the motorcycle and waited for the historical-fiction novelist to lower herself onto the seat behind him before switching the engine on. “I’ve never had Mexican food, but I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”

“Trust me, you’re going to love it!” She exclaimed over the engine’s rumbling, and Steve smiled a little to himself when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. “1560 Wilson Boulevard, you can’t miss it!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve shot her a teasing grin over his shoulder and reveled in the feeling of her arms tightening around him as he peeled away from the curb and sped down the street.

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

Seated side-by-side on a brick planter box a little ways away from Pa’ Tortas El Papi’s bustling food truck, (Y/N) and Steve enjoyed their plates of street tacos and ice-cold Coca-Cola’s and fell into easy conversation as Tejano music played in the foreground and string lights twinkled in the tree branches above. (Y/N) was pleased and a little relieved when Steve told her how delicious their dinner was, knowing how different Mexican food was to the super-soldier’s usual cuisine, and there was a proud grin on her face as she watched him eagerly finish his second plate of tacos and regaled him with stories of her many trips to the food truck with Sam. With Steve, (Y/N) felt completely at ease and all of her worries – about the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, about the legalities surrounding her breached studio contract, about Ultron’s defeat – were put out of her mind by the super-soldier’s comforting and near-addictive presence.

“I like this song,” Steve stated after they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of them enjoying the last of their sodas while they people-watched from their secluded planter box. “It has a nice melody.”

“‘Amor Prohibido,’ released as a single in 1994 from the album of the same name and sung by the incomparable Selena Quintanilla…or just Selena, if you prefer, sort of like Beyoncé or Cher. It’s about forbidden love and wanting to be with someone despite everyone else’s misgivings about their relationship.” When (Y/N) glanced up from her empty glass bottle and caught sight of the awestruck expression on the super-soldier’s face, she felt her own face begin to warm in embarrassment and she awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, it’s a very good song…one of my favorites of hers, actually.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I forget just how knowledgeable you are when it comes to music, and then you go and knock me onto my ass with a pitch-perfect summation of a random song’s background and details. It sounds cliché, but I don’t know any other word to call it other than incredible, (Y/N).” His azure eyes were shining as he spoke, and (Y/N) knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word he uttered; her lips curved into a smile before she wordlessly pressed a kiss onto the smooth skin of his cheek and scooted closer to lean her head on his shoulder, smiling even more when she felt his large hand gently wrap itself around hers. “My Spanish is a little rusty, but I’ll bet that there’s a music expert around here that could translate some of it for me.”

“‘Aquí solo importa nuestro amor, te quiero…’” (Y/N) quietly sang along to the impassioned tune and gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze as she translated. “‘All that matters here is our love, I love you…’”

Although they’d finally confessed their love for one another just two weeks prior, saying those three simple words aloud again sent a warm tingle throughout (Y/N)’s body, and she was reminded of the super-soldier’s breathtaking grin and the feel of his soft lips caressing hers as they stood in the deserted hangar of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.

Instead of replying, Steve simply closed his eyes and hummed along to the melody of the song as a light blush dusted over his cheeks, and (Y/N) seized the rare opportunity to study her distracted date; his handsome face was fully free of the guarded expression he’d continuously worn when they first met, making him appear younger and resemble the ninety-five pound man he’d always been before his recruitment into Project Rebirth, and her heart warmed in her chest when she realized her role in helping him open up and slowly but surely join a world that he once believed that he would never belong in. Not many people are lucky enough to see the man behind the shield, (Y/N) thought as she rested her head back on Steve’s shoulder and smiled to herself, but right now I feel like I’m the luckiest person alive.

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

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc, uh, are you tellin’ me you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”

“The way I see it, if you’re gonna built a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?”

The auditorium echoed with chuckles of amusement at Doc Brown’s reply and while the time traveling car suddenly blazed its way back onto the screen, Steve bit his lip to hide his disbelief from (Y/N), who was engrossed in the ongoing film right beside him. When he picked a 30th Anniversary screening of Back to the Future for his and (Y/N)’s first date, it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a film revolving around time travel, and the irony of being a man out of time taking his incredibly modern girlfriend to see it was definitely not lost on him. It was a fun film that took a more science-fiction route in regard to the time travel aspect – and as someone who’d gone from 1945 to 2012 in the blink of an eye, it was a nice change of pace seeing someone go from present day to being a fish out of water in the past – but Steve started to feel slightly uncomfortable when the high school-aged George McFly was introduced.

Unsurprisingly, Steve was the furthest thing from popular in high school; he was short, skinny and interested in art and the few girls who’d acknowledge his presence were only interested in fishing for a date with Bucky. The only real difference between him and George McFly was that, despite his abysmal success rate, he always fought back against his bullies instead of cowering from confrontation like George. However, it was George’s infatuation with Lorraine that struck Steve; like him, the high-schooler was hopeless with girls and had a difficult time expressing himself around his crush, something that Steve still struggled with over eighty years later. It had taken nothing short of a world-ending threat for Steve to finally confess his love to (Y/N) and when the adrenaline of the Battle of Sokovia finally wore off, so too did his forwardness.

Bucky always made this sort of thing look so damn easy, Steve silently bemoaned and swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the screen as he contemplated whether or not he should wrap his arm around the historical-fiction novelist’s shoulders. He reached into their shared bucket of popcorn and sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers suddenly brushed against (Y/N)’s; when he looked over at her, she was smiling at him and he felt himself smile back as she tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth that was accompanied by a flirtatious wink and returned her attention back to the screen.

It wasn’t until George and Lorraine’s much-anticipated dance in the school’s decorated gymnasium that Steve found the opportune moment to make his move. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he moved his arm up and slowly lowered it to rest around (Y/N)’s shoulders; he was careful to avoid the bare skin of her shoulder and curl his fingers around the silky material covering her upper arm, but the respectful gesture didn’t stop him from feeling the warmth radiating off of her or detecting the subtle uptick of her heartbeat at his careful touch. Steve’s own breath hitched when the historical-fiction novelist not only scooted closer to his side, but also rested her head on his shoulder; he didn’t bother fighting the smile that stretched across his face as his body relaxed and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, feeling nothing but love for the woman sitting beside him while they both watched George and Lorraine finally share a sweet kiss.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, please be mine. My darling dear, love you for all time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you…”

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

The moon was shining high in the darkened sky when Steve finally took (Y/N) back home. After the movie, they’d spontaneously decided to visit a nearby ice cream parlor and enjoy their frozen treats while strolling around the block arm-in-arm, and it wasn’t until they noticed several bars beginning to close for the night that they realized just how late it was; they were having too much fun eating their ice cream and laughing at (Y/N)’s many attempts to teach Steve how Instagram filters worked, but they were mainly just enjoying spending time in one another’s presence. The rumbling of the super-soldier’s motorcycle ceased when he parked in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house and switched off the engine, and silence settled over the street as he gallantly walked alongside her to the porch.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Standing on the porch, (Y/N) gave Steve – who was nearly eye-to-eye with her from where he stood at the base of the steps – a teasing grin. “You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Captain Rogers.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, you’d be the first lady to ever think that; most of Bucky and mine’s double dates usually ended with my date forgetting that I existed and both gals trying to make a move on Buck.”

“I suppose it’s their loss and my gain, then.” While Steve’s cheeks turned pink at her compliment, (Y/N) shrugged off the leather jacket he’d insisted on letting her wear when she started to shiver during their stroll, cringing at the cool night air on her flushed skin but handing the jacket over to him; she took a moment to admire the super-soldier’s muscular physique while he slid his jacket back on and was forced to clear her throat before continuing. “Well, I…I should probably head in; Sam’s probably spying on us as we speak and waiting to interrogate me.”

“I’m sure he’d be at the window if he hadn’t fallen asleep while watching reruns of NCIS.” A teasing smile of his own curved his lips upwards when (Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “Good hearing’s just one of the many side effects of being a super-soldier.”

Sometimes, it was easy for (Y/N) to forget that the man standing before her was Captain America, a bonafide superhero who could lift a ton without breaking a sweat and who miraculously survived being frozen in ice for nearly seventy years. To her, he was just Steve Rogers, a handsome man who strived to learn as much as he could, who had a dry but witty sense of humor and who made her feel well and truly loved. “I meant what I said earlier,” (Y/N) quietly admitted and reached out to hold one of Steve’s hands. “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in…well, a pretty long time.”

Steve’s azure eyes softened as he nodded in agreement. “Me too. I wish it didn’t have to end.” When she arched a brow at that, his eyes widened in panic and he stammered out, “T-That’s, um, that’s not what I meant, I wasn’t trying to…not that I don’t want to, you know, but…I swear, I’m not implying that you and I should…” He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed groan. “Ninety-seven, and I still can’t talk to a beautiful woman without gettin’ tongue-tied.”

(Y/N) giggled. “That’s true…” Smiling, she brought her free hand up card her fingers through his hair before gently cupping his smooth jaw. “But it’s also one of the many things I love about you.”

Steve gave her a breathtaking grin and leaned forward, his impossibly-long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his soft lips met hers; the gentle and passionate way that Steve kissed her made her feel cherished and while his hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist, she couldn’t help but marvel at how the highly-trained super-soldier’s touch was nothing short of reverential when it came to her. His kisses were addictive and as they finally separated for air, she found herself moving forward to press one last lingering kiss onto his swollen lips before pulling away far enough to meet his hooded gaze. “That was…”

“Scandalous? Inappropriate?” (Y/N) jokingly offered. “Something that would’ve ruined both our reputations in the 1940’s?”

“Incredible.” Steve finished, and the tender gleam that filled his azure eyes as he looked at her caused her own cheeks to flush. “You’re incredible, sunshine.”

That was the first time he’d ever called her something other than her given name, and the added emphasis on the term of affection certainly wasn’t lost on her. In the back of her mind, she resolved to ask him about it one day but in that moment, she all but glowed and bit her lip in a poor attempt to hide her bashful grin. “I know how busy you are with the move to the Avengers’ new facility and the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, so I’m not sure when we’ll be able to go out again but I hope it’s soon.” After Steve nodded in agreement, (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss onto his cheek and with a small pang of reluctance, she pulled away from his arms and finally let go of his hand. “G’night, Steve.”

“’Night, (Y/N).”

They shared one final smile before turning away from one another, (Y/N) to unlock the front door and step inside and Steve to walk down to where he’d parked his motorcycle. She gave him a wave once she saw him sitting astride the bike and stepped into the house, but the brief chime of her cell phone forced her to quickly lock up before checking her unread text messages.

Steve: I don’t think that there’s an adequate enough way to thank you for such a wonderful night, sunshine, but I was hoping I could take you out again tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner and another movie?

While her heart practically burst out of her chest with happiness, (Y/N) typed out a brief but enthusiastic reply and tiptoed into the living room to wake her sleeping roommate, but not before giving the vase of pink roses sitting on the kitchen counter an appraising smile and taking note of the fading rumble of a familiar motorcycle outside.

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

A/N: And there we have it! What did you think of their first date?? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Stumblin’ In Book II: “Age of Ultron” Masterlist

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ @groovyqueer​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​  

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 46

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You settled back into your routine, sitting in the backseat, amused by the banter between the boys as they teased each other. Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at the entertainment they provided.

One morning, you all sat in baby, watching the payphone.

"Why did he have to phone so early?" you grumbled.

Dean answered the phone, grumbling about catching something from holding the old, dirty payphone.

"Could he be more dramatic?" You huffed, flinging yourself into the back seat.

Several hours later, the boys woke you, informing you that it was time to check into the motel and head to the coroner's office.

At the coroner's office, when the sheet covering the deceased was pulled back, Dean gasped. "Well, those aren't the good kind of hickeys."

Sam nudged him annoyed, and when he looked at you, he smirked, causing you to giggle behind your hand.

Sam cleared his throat, and both of you stopped.

"So, this was an octopus?" you asked, looking disgusted.

"Yeah, a giant one," confirmed the doctor.

"How giant are we talking?" Dean looked concerned.

"About 30 feet," the doctor replied with a smile.

Sam laughed in disbelief. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't giant octopi rare around here?"

"I don't think these were caused by a giant octopus," the doctor explained, pointing out signs that someone had bled the man out and turning the dead man's neck for you all to see.

After leaving the widow's house, you all deliberated whether it could be a vampire. Deciding on a plan, Dean volunteered to speak with the nanny, while you and Sam would search the house when the wife was out.

A while later, Dean called, explaining that you needed to talk to the little girl. Sam, after hanging up, suggested you stay in the car, thinking two people might scare the girl.

"An 8-foot giant stranger won't scare her at all. Sit, I'll go," you ordered Sam.

Approaching the little girl, you knelt down, smiling warmly. "You've got talent. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to talk to you. My mum will get mad," she said nervously, glancing around.

"Why? Is something wrong?" you asked gently.

"I got in trouble because I told the police it was the monster in the closet that killed my dad," she explained before her mum called her inside, and she hurried away.

Turning, you noticed a drawing on the ground that resembled a vampire, much to your dismay.

A while later you sat on the motel bed, utterly perplexed by Sam's unusual reaction during the phone call with Dean.

"What's wrong with you?" you inquired as he hung up.

"Get dressed. We need to go," was his curt reply.

As you arrived outside Plucky's, your expression twisted in disgust. "What in the world is this?"

"You don't have this back home?" Sam quizzed.

"No," you laughed.

"Aren't you lucky?" he scoffed.

Approaching the desk together, you couldn't help but smirk as Sam stumbled over his words, drawing the attention of the cashier.

"FBI. Can we speak to the manager, please?" You pushed in front of Sam, taking charge.

As the cashier walked away, you leaned closer to Sam. "Sammy, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. If it bleeds, we can kill it," walking away, engrossed in a wall of drawings.

"Okay," you rolled your eyes, walking in the other direction to look for clues.

The manager approached Sam a few minutes later and Sam asked, "Why do you get kids to draw their worst fears?"

“Well, it helps them express their feelings, that they may not be comfortable talking about," she explained.

When Sam finished speaking to the manager, he looked around frantically for you. Spotting you, he saw you taking photos with a clown, gesturing for him to join.

As he made his way over, a janitor intercepted him. You watched, puzzled, as they conversed.

"Sam," you called as he approached, dragging a clown cheerfully behind you.

He pulled you away abruptly, marching you out the door. "Will you stop touching everything? We're meant to be investigating."

He let go of you, and suddenly it clicked. "Are you scared of clowns, Sam?" you asked, smiling.

"No," he defended.

"You are! Why didn't you say so? I could have gone in there myself," you teased.

"I'm not scared of clowns. Now come on," he snapped, heading off to the car.

"Okay, my mistake," you grinned, following after him.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @my-obsession-spn @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @spnbaby-67

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 11: Ad Libitum

In which Danny gets a clearer glimpse of high society...and of Christopher. Contains: 3.8k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Ad libitum, adj: In music, performed with free rhythm and expression; improvised and without restriction. 

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sam. What the heck is this?” 

Danny stared at the thing on her nightstand with open-mouthed shock, trying to understand what it was she was looking at. 

The lamp next to it flickered on, a flame dancing back and forth in what could have been an amused chuckle. “Well, you made a mistake last week. You got Christopher excited about something.”

“I said I was curious about what rich people did for fun. I didn’t expect him to…” Something clicked in her mind, both incredibly obvious and utterly improbable. “Wait, is that what those measurements you took were for? Did he make this?” she exclaimed in disbelief, holding up a corner of the elaborate pile of ruby-colored fabric that appeared to be a gown made for her size. She’d hardly even seen clothing this fancy before, much less touched it with her own hands. 

“Yep. You should have seen him, he was going absolutely nuts all week trying to sew it, tearing out his hair and going on about the size of lace and buttons and stuff. I’ve never seen him so dedicated to something before.” The flame danced about before shrinking back down. “Uh, don’t mention I said anything about all that. But you’ve gotta try it on.” 

Danny scowled slightly—not in distaste of the idea of wearing such fancy garb, but to hide her embarrassment at the fact that she wore little fancier than her everyday, much more simple dress. “Uh…where…how do I even…”

She was almost caught off guard by the silk curtain that had been wrapped around the bedframe coming undone to reach over and hold the dress, as if the delicate fabric was actually a pair of hands. “I could help you put it on, if you’re alright with that?” 

It was odd to think that Danny still had no idea whether or not Sam was a man or a woman, and was frankly hesitant to ask, even in this situation. She found that she didn’t actually care all that much—Sam was Sam, as far as she was concerned. “...sure. Yeah, you can help.” 

Sam gently directed her in how the dress was worn, showing her the different parts of the dress as they explained each step. An hour passed easily by the time they were done—not just with the dress, which fit her surprisingly well. Sam had even managed to help put her hair up in a fancy updo, which held together even without the help of any sort of pins. They left briefly to fetch “a surprise,” which turned out to be a few tiny white flowers made of silk, small enough to entwine into her hair—probably plucked from the decorative vase in the front entry.

She looked at herself in the small handheld mirror that Sam held up for her, turning this way and that. It was like she was looking at a stranger—a beautiful stranger, one draped in a lovely shade of red that flowed around her like the delicate petals of a rose. The stitching, while somewhat unwieldy and larger due to the nature of the giant thread it used, was still executed by a neat and careful hand. She’d never even dreamed of wearing clothes like this before—even if they were made by giant hands and missing a few of the details that normal formal attire might have had, it was just as magical to her—if not more so.

“Well? What do you think?”

She hadn’t realized she’d gone on without saying anything for a while, still quite overwhelmed with her drastic change in appearance. “I…it’s…wow. It’s amazing.” 

“Then let’s go. He’s got more to show you, you know.” 

“He what?” Danny exclaimed. The rolling cart that Sam often controlled pulled up next to the nightstand she was on—one of its handles bent up towards her, like a hand extended to guide her onto it. 

She barely suppressed an amused smile as she placed her hand atop the handle and stepped down onto the cart, carefully lowering herself to a seated position as it gently rolled out of her room and towards the main entryway.

“What exactly does he have planned?” she whispered, a little bit more uncertainty stirring in her gut as they approached. 

“Just wait and see,” the cart whispered, sounding as if it barely held back a grin as it did.

She complied with silence, looking around nervously as they emerged into the mansion’s grand entrance room. It was twilight—the room was cast in the shadows of the day’s end, the lights not yet lit inside. It was empty, as far as she could tell, with no sign of Christopher yet. 

The cart stopped in front of the huge, marble staircase. “Wait here,” Sam whispered again, and Danny could almost hear the whoosh sound as their presence swept from the cart to somewhere else in the room. 

All at once, the lights on the walls blazed to life, and the crystal chandelier overhead sparkled with a million tiny lights within it—bathing the place in a warm and inviting glow. And just as the room was illuminated, she heard the footsteps from above. She rose to her feet instinctively as she saw Christopher appear from around the corner and begin to descend the steps, adorned in a more formal suit than his usual attire—a long, dark blue tailcoat with elaborate golden stitching all along it, lace peeking out from the collar and the sleeves. He carried himself with all the poise and grace that was to be expected of nobility, walking with a slow and steady gait as he made his way down towards Danny. 

His eyes fell on her—and though it at first made her feel as if she was being appraised, wondering if she looked as out of place as she felt, her unease began to fade as he gave her a gentle smile. 

He bowed towards her like a gentleman. “You look lovely, Danny. I’m glad the dress fits you so well.” 

She couldn’t do much more than laugh slightly, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you went through the trouble of making it. That can’t have been easy, with your big-ass hands and all.” 

His composed air broke as he barked out a laugh. “You have such a way with words, doll. But you’re correct, it provided plenty of…unique challenges. And unfortunately, I couldn’t replicate many of the other essentials you’d normally wear to an occasion like this. The dress is also…rather simple, but it was the best I could do with limited materials.”

“Simple?” she gasped. “You’ve got to be joking. This is easily the fanciest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” She grabbed a few handfuls of the fabric and waved it about. “I bet it’s probably more expensive than all the clothes I own put together. It's beautiful,” she gushed, temporarily forgetting that she was feeding directly into his ego.

He chuckled, clearly quite pleased with her admiration of his handiwork. “Well then, I’m glad you enjoy it.” 

She gave him a funny, ever so slightly suspicious look. “What’s all this about, anyways?” 

“You wanted to know what people like me entertained ourselves with. So I want to show you what a ball is like.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been to balls?”

“Well, I’ve…read a lot of books on the subject,” he admitted, with a slightly sheepish grin. “As far as I’m aware, this is what the upper class tend to concern themselves with. Truthfully, I’m interested in trying out some of the things I’ve read.” 

The giant gestured widely around the room with a sweeping motion of his arm. “Now, you have to imagine a lot more people in here—all of them dressed in beautiful gowns and whispering amongst each other. There’s noise everywhere—noise and color and life.” He gave her a sideways grin. “...at least, that’s what the books say.” 

“Uh-huh.” Danny tilted her head to the side. “So what do you do at things like this?” 

Christopher shrugged. “They’re mostly an excuse to show off your home and your status. There’s a lot of socializing, making connections, keeping face—they’re much more dull than you’d expect. But outside of all of that…” 

Christopher looked to the side and gave a short nod, meeting Danny’s eyes again with an excited gleam about them. “...generally, you dance.”

The sound of music began to fill the air of the grand room as a violin that had previously been resting on a nearby table came to life, its bow pulling itself across the strings in a lively, bright rhythm. 

Danny laughed in surprise. “Sam can play the violin?” 

“They’ve picked up a lot of things over time,” Christopher said with a smile. “Unfortunately they can't replicate a full band—they can only control one thing at once. But the violin is their favorite.”

He took a few steps forward towards the middle of the floor, turning back to look at Danny. “This music is called a waltz.”

Christopher began to step in time to the rhythm, moving with graceful precision from one foot to the next as he danced alone, demonstrating the steps clearly. He spun and held his arms out, as if he held an invisible partner within them, but his eyes always came back to rest on Danny. He smiled wide, clearly enjoying himself.

“You seem like a natural,” she remarked, absolutely fascinated with the way the giant moved. Christopher always moved with such an oddly delicate poise, but the way he danced took it a step beyond—it was a fluid sort of grace that made it hard to look away. “Are you sure this is your first time dancing?”

He chuckled slightly as he continued. “I’ve practiced a time or two. Like I said, I’ve read a lot of books.” 

The music’s tempo increased slightly, and Christopher’s steps became a little faster and more complex to match. She wasn’t sure if this was still a waltz or a different dance entirely, but as it went on, Christopher seemed to get lost in it, flowing with a natural ease and vigor from each step to the next. 

As he executed another spin, she caught a glimpse of something on the side of his head—or at least, she thought she did. She’d always written off the twists of hair on the sides of Christopher’s head as part of some fancy rich person hairstyle she wasn’t cultured enough to know about, but she swore in that moment she saw the hint of something…within them? A bit of his hair slipped further, revealing that they weren’t quite simple braids at all—instead, his hair was wrapped around something just as dark, but quite solid all the same. 

It almost looked like…

She waited until the music slowed down and the giant had seemingly finished his routine before she found the courage to ask. “Hey, Christopher?” 

The giant was still smiling, seemingly oblivious to the hair that had fallen out of place as he strode back towards Danny, slightly out of breath. “Yes?”

She gestured to the side of her own head. “Do you have…something—”

His face immediately fell, his eyes wide as he reached up to feel the twists of hair on each side of his head at once. His fingers moved quickly to adjust the fallen strands back into place. “No, no, it’s just my hairstyle. I’m afraid it might have slipped a little while I was moving.” 

Now she was curious, because while she knew Christopher had a tendency to be somewhat dramatic, she doubted his immediate, almost frightened reaction to his hair being slightly out of place was warranted. She tried to give him a somewhat encouraging smile, tilting her head inquisitively. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, you know. I’m just curious.” 

He hesitated for a long time before he spoke again, looking as utterly apprehensive as if she’d asked for him to strip down in front of her. “...are you sure?” 

She nodded. “Show me.” 

His lips set into a tight line before he gave a slow nod, hesitantly reaching up and beginning to fiddle with his hair. He undid a strand from the elaborate updo he wore, and began to unwrap it until it fell loose past his face, still holding a delicate curl.

On the side of Christopher’s head, where the hair had hidden it before, was a ridged, ebony-black horn, almost blending in with the shade of his hair except that it reflected the light of the chandelier along its edge. It laid close against his scalp—seemingly leaving enough space to wrap his hair around to hide it, but close enough that such an effort would have been effective had it not slipped. 

He mechanically undid the other side of his hairstyle to reveal a matching horn on the other side. Both curved back but didn’t extend beyond the back of his head. 

Danny’s eyes widened. She admittedly knew quite little about giant anatomy, but she’d just assumed Christopher was a large human that didn’t need to eat, and maybe had hearing a little better than most. This put things into a slightly different perspective, to see him adorned with such blatantly non-human features. “You’ve had horns this whole time?” 

Honestly, she was just impressed that he’d managed to hide such a glaring thing from her for a week. But why did he care?

For perhaps the first time since she’d met him, Christopher seemed genuinely embarrassed, tucking the strand of hair he’d just unfurled behind his ear and looking down at the ground, away from Danny. “I try to hide them. They just…remind me that I’m…not human.” 

“I mean…” Danny paused, trying to think about how to handle this topic delicately. She hadn’t heard Christopher ever express disdain for his own nature like this. And “delicate” wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

“...you’re not. But that’s okay.” She gave him an encouraging grin. “Personally, I think they look kinda cool. Way better than that funny hairstyle.” 

His head snapped up. “Funny?” he gasped, almost offended. Then he regarded her more curiously, a little blush coloring his cheeks. “...you…like them?” 

She laughed, finding something very amusing about the hundred-foot-tall man’s chagrin. “Yeah. Like I said—you don’t need to bother hiding stuff from me. I don’t care that you’re a giant or whatever. I literally talk to a possessed house everyday, you having horns is probably the least weird thing about all of this.” 

“Hey! I’m a whole-ass mansion, at least.” 

Christopher seemed to contemplate her words for a little longer, something like awe dancing in his expression. A little of the light from above seemed to reflect in his dark eyes even more than before, and a wide smile crossed his face. 

He extended a gloved hand towards her as he bent forward in a gentlemanly bow. “Would you care to dance, Danny?” 

She gave him a strange look. “...huh?” 

“It’s not half as fun without a partner, doll.” He remained bowed, grinning a little further. “I can’t just show off and impress you all night. You ought to try it too.” 

Danny stared at Christopher’s hand like it had grown another finger. “Um…I mean, sure, but um…how are we going to…I mean, I’m not really a huge fan of getting stepped on—”

“We’ll improvise,” Christopher said, and he extended his other hand towards her as well, to hold her hand between his fingers to guide her onto his palm in the same manner that Sam had guided her onto the cart earlier.

Dumbfounded, she couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the absurdity of the whole situation—even so, she held onto one of his fingers as she took a few steps onto his palm. He slowly raised her up closer to his chest as he stood again, holding both of her hands between his thumb and forefinger. 

She did her very best to remain upright and try not to think about how far down it would be if she tripped over the long hem of her new dress and fell to her death. 

She clearly hadn’t contained her worry well enough, because Christopher gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “I won’t let you fall, Danny. Trust me.” 

“A-ah-okay,” she mumbled, swallowing nervously and forcing herself to look up and meet the giant’s face instead of looking down. It helped, somewhat. “So…now what do we do?” 

Christopher’s face was soft, even as it was now framed by the newly revealed horns. “Just hold on, and try to get a feel for the rhythm.” 

She held onto his fingers tighter as he began to take long, sweeping strides across the floor, muttering quietly in time with the music as he did—one, two, three, one, two, three.

“Normally, yes, this dance is done with a partner of the same size, and there are a lot more hand motions involved,” he explained as he moved. She could feel even from her vantage point how graceful and practiced each motion of his was, as if this was truly second nature to him. He held her incredibly still as he danced, keeping his palm relatively even. It was enough that she didn’t even feel nauseous from the movement, if she kept herself focused only on his face, and the new horns her eyes kept getting drawn to, and not the giant room that spun around them.

Unfortunately, she did eventually make the mistake of glancing to the side, and felt a sudden rush of vertigo flip her stomach over. She squeezed her eyes shut and bent over slightly. “Oh, god—”

Christopher slowed to a stop, suddenly sounding concerned. The violin paused in its playing as well. “Was that…too much? Are you alright?” 

Danny took in a deep breath and forced her eyes to open again as she gasped for air. “I-I’m fine, it was just…we were moving so fast…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured gently. “I didn’t take into account how disorienting it must feel at your size.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe…I’ll move a little slower. I could try taking smaller steps.”

She nodded wearily. “Much appreciated.” 

He nodded towards the violin again, which resumed the music at a slightly slower tempo. This time, Christopher took steps about half the size of the ones previously, moving in a much smaller circle as he stepped along to the music. 

This was, indeed, much more tolerable. Danny was tempted to look down towards his feet to see what the steps were and try to copy them, but she was not feeling brave enough. Instead, she began to sway slightly to the music, keeping the same rhythm that Christopher whispered. One, two, three, one, two, three.

“This is the part where you’d twirl around,” he said with a smirk, slightly adjusting the way his fingers held her hands to be positioned above her head as he stood still. “Go ahead and try it, doll.” 

The nickname had dwindled down from a source of massive irritation to nothing but a mild annoyance at worst—it felt more like the same kind of playful tease she and Nathan would exchange. She sneered back at him. “Yeah, sure, bastard.” 

She complied with his request, holding very securely to his fingers as she carefully, very carefully, turned around in place—certainly not the most graceful motion, but she prioritized not falling to her death over grace. 

Even so, it prompted a wide smile from Christopher, who resumed the steps from earlier—every now and then pausing and lifting his fingers slightly to encourage her to twirl. They both began to get lost in the steps and the music, Danny turning every ounce of her focus to the moves. Once she got used to it and realized that she really was unlikely to fall while Christopher held her—or perhaps she’d simply forgotten about the floor below her entirely—Danny found herself laughing, filled with a carefree sort of joy as she let Christopher demonstrate the dance, and joined in with what little ability she had to contribute. 

Later, the memory of this evening would be but a swirl of motion and color, the dark blue of Christopher’s suit and the glint of his horns in the candlelight, the faint echo of a violin—but it would not be something soon forgotten, perhaps not for the rest of Danny’s life. 

She would remember that rush of ecstasy—the feeling of a true friendship beginning to be kindled in the most unlikely of places, with the most unlikely of people. 

When the music finally stopped, reaching its crescendo before one last, drawn-out note faded to silence, Danny was out of breath—but she didn’t want to stop now. She didn’t want it to end, not yet.

Christopher bent his head down as he continued to hold onto her hands, only slightly out of breath himself and grinning widely with his eyes closed. “Did you have fun?” he whispered, between breaths.

His low voice was much closer to her than before, almost close enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck. It surrounded her like a blanket—comforting, in a strange way. She normally didn’t like people getting close to her, but for now, she’d make an exception.

“I…I did,” she admitted with a laugh. “Thanks for not dropping me.” 

His head bent even further down until his forehead rested ever so gently against the top of her head. She could feel each soft exhale across her skin as his breathing began to even out. It was such a foreign experience that she found she couldn’t move or react at all—she was stuck, breathless, in awe of the way that Christopher was so utterly huge and all-encompassing, yet so gentle at the same time.

“I told you that you can trust me,” he whispered, almost…affectionately.

All of a sudden—like the soft silence in the air had been sliced with a knife—she could feel the giant’s entire body stiffen around her, and he drew his face away from her quickly, as if he hadn’t realized how close he had gotten. His face seemed slightly more pale than before.

“Are…you alright?” she asked, cautiously trying to determine what had startled him to such a degree.

He wasn’t trying to like…KISS me or something, right? That would be so awkward, oh my god, I should have told him I’m not interested in him that way—

“I’m fine,” he replied stiffly. He put on a charming smile—but something about it seemed only skin-deep, not reaching his eyes. “I think it might be time to retire for the night, though.” 

Without another word passed between them, Christopher carried Danny back to her bedroom and set her down on the bed, giving her a short bow of his head before he turned to leave.

“Hey!” 

Christopher stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.

She stared at the giant’s back pensively, a little worry beginning to creep into her. “Thank you, for tonight. It was fun.” 

He was still for a moment before he turned halfway towards her, the ghost of a grin tugging at his face. “I should be thanking you for indulging me. I had a wonderful time, truly.” She noticed his grin falter only a little before he turned away again. “Sleep well, Danny.” 

She stared after the door that closed behind him. What's wrong with him?

She would not get an answer to that question for another week—unbeknownst to Danny, an entire week past Christopher’s self-imposed deadline to keep his curse at bay. 

It was not enough time for either to prepare for what would happen as a result. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Next chapter ->

Thank you for reading! Now things are going to start ramping up.

Next week, Chapter 12: The Beast.

[theminecraftbox]

/dsmp /rp

happy one year anniversary to Quackity’s first visit to Dream in prison!!!! Here is a little fic to celebrate the occasion <3

cw: torture

The first day is a Tuesday.

Of course, Dream has no way to know this. No clocks, no calendars, just a black box and a long uninterrupted now.

Dream seems oddly shrunken, in this abysmal little hellhole. The orange uniform hangs loose over his frame. Clearly he’s missed more than a few meals. A feverish light in his eyes and dark bags underneath, the unsettling twitchiness in his limbs—Sam’s doing, Quackity knows, with a satisfying grimness.

“As long as we need to do it,” Quackity promises.

Dream’s still staring at Quackity with disbelief: denial, pure and simple and complete.

They stare at each other for another frozen moment. Like neither of them is quite sure how to begin. Have to start somewhere, right, Quackity thinks; and he grins in a rictus, and he hefts the axe up. Dream’s arms fly up to defend his head, fists cocked in a loose fighting stance—and no, no, that won’t do, that won’t do at all.

He swings the axe low, instead, into Dream’s knee like he’s hacking at a tree. Dream screams and hits back at him, a vicious, desperate blow that nearly knocks him over, and tries to scramble away.

But there’s nowhere to go. “Don’t fucking hit me, man,” laughs Quackity, “don’t do that.”

“You can’t,” Dream insists, blindly, like there isn’t blood leaking between his fingers where he’s clutching his knee.

“Can’t what?” Quackity asks. He slashes again at Dream’s leg. This time Dream doesn’t scream, but the choked-off sound is somehow even more satisfying. Another blow, and another, and now Dream’s crumpled on the ground, eyes so wide and legs so fucking useless.

“SAM!” Dream screams. “SAM!! Quackity—I, Quackity, you can’t!!”

There’s a pathetic look in Dream’s eyes, an impossible puzzle: this can’t be happening. This is happening. This WILL happen. Rock, meet hard place. Quackity’s happy to make introductions.

He grins—he never stopped grinning—and he stands over Dream and stamps right on his chest, leaning in with all his weight as Dream gasps and writhes and claws at his ankle. He flourishes the axe again, and for a brief moment Dream’s struggles pause. A flicker of some terrible emotion crosses Dream’s uncovered face, and something hot and electric lights in the pit of Quackity’s stomach.

He swings the axe down to rest on Dream’s chest, presses the flat of the head into his throat. Dream’s hands go up to clutch at the haft.

“Hands fucking down, Dream,” Quackity hisses, and he stamps down again, and again, and again, until something cracks, until Dream’s gagging and his eyes are screwed shut and his fists are clenched at his sides.

“Sam,” Dream gasps. “Sam won’t…”

Quackity tilts Dream’s chin up with the edge of the axe. “Open your eyes,” he says. “Open your eyes, Dream, I’ve got something to show you.”

Dream’s eyes pry open, one then the other, molten with hate.

“I want you to read something for me, pal. Just a little reading comprehension test.”

“What?” wheezes Dream. “What, I don’t—”

“The axe,” says Quackity smoothly. “My axe, Dream, can you read its name for me?”

Dream’s gaze slides down along the handle. Quackity sees the second it sinks in. Something in Dream fractures. Something in him shutters its windows, closes down and locks the doors. The body under Quackity’s boot goes utterly still.

It’s like nothing Quackity’s ever felt.

“Oh,” Dream says quietly.

“Read it for me, buddy,” murmurs Quackity. “Go ahead.”

Dream takes a shuddering breath. “Warden’s Hammer,” he says, in perfect monotone.

[wearywinchester]

Back To You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When putting yourself in danger for the sake of saving Dean leaves you lost in the woods, Dean is less than thrilled until he finally finds you again.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, mentions of blood, swearing, comfort, fluff

Dean was livid in that moment, and rightfully so. Any and every hunt has the potential to be dangerous no matter what it is, no matter how many times you’ve hunted that very same kind of monster. Each and every hunt is different and someone is always bound to get hurt, whether it be the hunter or the person you’re there to save.

That idea was something he could handle, something he could prepare himself for. But he was never ready when that person was you.

You’d gone and done it this time. You went and spiked his worry, his fear, sent it sky high all for the sake of saving him. To him, nothing was worth losing you, especially not himself. The fact that he was worth enough to someone to risk their own life just to keep him safe was laughable to him, especially when it was you who held him in such a high regard.

Of course you did. He didn’t give himself enough credit, he didn’t give himself any credit at all. There was no one who hated Dean Winchester more than he did himself, and that very feeling was something that boiled over that hunt.

Two werewolves. Three hunters against two werewolves seemed like something you could handle. Take that and add it to the fact that you’re in the woods in late fall and it becomes more difficult. Somehow, some way they got the upper hand on the three of you, targeting Dean. Maybe they knew he was a sweet spot to the two of you, maybe it was just dumb luck, but their efforts seemed to work out for them.

There was no way you’d let them do anything to Dean, not if you were there to do something about it and that’s exactly what you did. Against Dean’s wishes you shoved him out of the way before they could, the swipe of her claws grazing across your cheek instead of his. It wasn’t as deep as it probably would have been, but it stung nevertheless. But that was only the very start of Dean’s nightmare, because you’d gone and lured her away before he could stop you.

He knew you. He knew you were strong and he knew you could hold your own, but this isn’t some run of the mill vampire or a phony spirit. It was a werewolf with more than enough of an appetite and twice the strength.

Now here you were, stranded in the woods all by yourself with a dull and bloodied silver blade and a limp in your stride, your ankle strained from tripping in the midst of your fight with fangs and claws. You held your own, you took care of her yourself with more than enough of a struggle on her end. But you had no idea where you were and which direction was the right one, no clue at all just how far you were from Sam and Dean. You didn’t know if that other werewolf got away and came to finish you off.

All you had was yourself and a dead phone, and your own two fists.

It was getting darker out, the cold fall day turning colder now that nightfall was just around the corner. The drizzling rain didn’t help your cause, muddying the path you tried to follow as you navigated through tall trees and fallen leaves. They crunched every time you took a step, the sound near deafening in contrast to the quiet of the woods.

You were too afraid to call out for Dean, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself should it still be lurking. You were an easy target at this point—you were tired and you were weak.

Of all the hunts you’d been on, you can’t remember feeling quite so bad as this one. The scratches on your face burned and ached, the dirt that was surely smeared across it doing nothing to help as you tried your hardest not to touch your cheek. Your ankle throbbed with every step, the pressure placed upon it nearly pushing you to tears as you walked along as quickly as you could, hoping more than anything that you weren’t leading yourself further away from them, further away from Dean.

You knew he’d be mad, you knew he’d be absolutely livid when he finds you. If he finds you. That very thought weighed heavy on your mind and made your stomach twist in knots and swirl with nausea. There was a very real possibility that they wouldn’t, your battery was dead and it was getting all the more dark outside and you knew what your chances were but you tried not to think about it. You tried but it stayed in the back of your mind and tried desperately to push to the front of it.

He’d be pissed, he would and you knew it because putting your own life on the line for the sake of saving his was never something he’d want you of all people to do. You wouldn’t be surprised if he asked you to stop hunting with them, and the thought alone made a pang run through your heart.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, brows furrowed as you took a deep breath. You’d hunted a myriad of different monsters, more than you can count and certainly a terrifying array of them. They were deadly and they were scary, they were dangerous and they were cruel but you couldn’t help the fear that settled within you now the sky was nearly completely dark. The lack of moonlight had worked against you, nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of you amongst dozens and dozens of trees. Every gust of wind, every noise, everything.

You were scared.

You didn’t dare use your flashlight, too scared to cast attention upon yourself and you found it impossible for anything out there to not be able to spot you. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb with the way you heard your heartbeat in your ears louder than ever. Or the way your breaths were shaky and labored and unable to be controlled.

The rain that drizzled a little heavier over you was beginning to seep through your clothes, chilling any exposed skin and wetting your hair almost completely by this point. You were sure it’d be worse if there weren’t any trees, but then again you didn’t get so lucky.

You couldn’t help but remind yourself how utterly on your own you were, body stiff as you walked along in the mud. The mere sound of a stick snapping in the near distance had you on edge, tears welling in your eyes as you weighed over the options of your fate in your mind in a taunting loop of negativity and fear.

Your lip quivered and your hands shook, clutching tight to your bag as you looked all around you. Tears mixed with rain to the point where you couldn’t even tell if you’d been crying real tears if it weren’t for the pressure behind your eyes and the ache you felt from trying to suppress them. You weren’t going to bother trying to act tough in that moment, there was no need when it was just you.

It wasn’t until then that you heard that voice, the gruffness of that ever familiar voice in an echo of your name. Your heart flipped in your chest and at first you thought you might have just imagined it, might have just thought you heard it amongst the rain, but it sounds again.

“Dean?” You said softly, disbelief in your voice before you raised it. “Dean!”

You picked up your pace in his direction, glancing over your shoulder cautiously. The tears rolled faster and your heart rate spiked, that fear in your mind lessening a fraction at the sound of his voice even if it was still not as close as you’d like.

You overlooked the pain in your ankle no matter how much it hurt, too distracted with finding your way back to Sam and Dean. The sooner you found them the sooner you could get out of those woods, and the sooner you could get cleaned up in a place much kinder on the eyes than tree after tree in a rain-dampened and dark area.

It felt like something straight out of a movie and you were waiting for the antagonist to pop out in front of you, waiting to be preyed upon by some big scary monster and you knew that wasn’t so far out of the question for you. Not with the life you had.

The distinct sound of sticks snapping and leaves crunching behind you was unmissable, unmistakable as you tensed. You swallowed thickly at the slosh of the footfalls behind you, heart hammering nearly too loud to hear anything else. It wasn’t until you felt a hand grab your elbow that you screamed once more, expecting to hear Dean call out from farther away at the sound of it. You screamed and you turned around, eyes wide with fear.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Dean,” he rushed, voice calmer than you expected.

It took you a moment for you to realize, for your eyes to bounce over his face and for the fear to settle and your frown was inevitable as you fought your tears.

In a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around him, face hidden against his chest and you didn’t care how much it hurt the scratches adorning your cheek. That tension you held loosened considerably in his embrace, and it’s something he didn’t fail to notice. You missed the way his brows furrowed as his chin rested atop your head or the purse in his lips, the way he squeezed his eyes shut or the look of relief he gave Sam with traces of worry and anger within it.

He found you now, and you were safe.

You were quiet as you stood at the small bathroom counter, leaned over the edge a little as you cleaned around the scratches on your cheek. You were proving to do an awful job and you could see it by the look on Dean’s face when he walked in the bathroom. He could see the way you winced even from where he stood by the bed of the motel room, he saw it and he knew you hated doing it.

“C’mon,” he said, patting the counter a couple times.

“I got it, Dean,” you say softly, the sharp gasp you take in immediately after doing nothing to help you.

You sigh as you drop the dampened cotton ball in his palm, hopping up on the counter. You saw the dimples by the corners of his mouth and you saw the crease between his brows, telling of just how discontent he truly was and it had you biting the inside of your other cheek.

He was quick to clean it up with a light hand, careful not to hurt you as his other hand settled on your cheek to hold you still. You could feel the tension in the small room, could cut it with a knife, and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon so long as none of you said anything.

You tried to think about the way his breath fanned over your face instead, soft and warm in the pattern of his breathing as he cleaned you up with all the gentleness in the world. Gentle and tender despite the frustration simmering in the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill.

Actually, it did.

“We gonna talk about what happened today?” He asked, voice quiet and tone angry as his brow raised a fraction.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you mumble, averting your gaze as you turned your head, only for him to redirect it back as he finished what he was doing.

“‘Course not,” he said, breathing out a huff through his nose.

You roll your eyes and hop down from the counter, hearing his sigh as he tossed the dirtied cotton ball in the trash along with the others you’d gone through, his lips pressing together momentarily as he followed behind you into the room.

You still weren’t over it, you were still shaken despite this being your own fault. It was your fault and you knew that, you were the one playing hero and while you didn’t regret it for a second, you were still on the verge of tears. You were still cold and upset and still reaping the consequences of your decision by the pain on your face and in your ankle.

“Yeah, ‘course not,” you say, tightening his flannel around your shoulders before digging around in your duffel bag.

It didn’t last very long as he grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him, his displeasure more than evident.

“Please don’t try and save me, sweetheart, I’m not—”

“What, you’re not worth it?” You say, watching his lips purse deeper. “You might think that about yourself but I never will, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“You nearly died, Y/n. Do you understand that?” He says, voice a little louder now. “You almost died out there all by yourself. How the hell am I supposed to live with that? How easy do you think it’d be for me to go on every damn day knowing you died just to save my ass?”

You were quiet for a moment as you looked up at him, brows knitted together. “Well, I’m not dead, Dean. So I guess you don’t have to.”

He scoffed as he threw his hands up, letting one fall back to his side as the other pinches the bridge of his freckled nose for a moment or two. He hates how you’re brushing this off, hates how you don’t know just how much of a wreck he was. Sam had never seen his brother so distraught, had never seen him so turned upside down the moment you were lost. It tore him to shreds, tore him apart from the inside out until he found you and that feeling still won’t stop. It won’t stop because he knows this won’t be the last time you do it.

“I’m not worth it, alright? I’m not worth layin’ six feet under, sweetheart. And not by the hands of some freakin’ werewolf either,” he says, frustrated as ever.

Your brows furrow deeper, frown tugs down deeper as you look at him.

“You think you’re the only one that gets to protect people? You think you’re the only one that gets to save someone? Is that what you think, Dean?”

“Y/n—”

“You might not give a damn about yourself, in fact, I know you don’t give a crap,” you say, your finger poking into his chest. “But I do. I care.”

You hated the way your voice faltered and the way your lip wobbled under the pressure of your tears, hated the way those very tears glossed over your eyes, ready to fall with a mere blink. He saw it, he saw it all and he pulled you close before you could crumble completely.

His hand ran over your head, hair still rain dampened and he could feel just how cold you still were. He could feel the way you shook, no matter how faint it was. You could act tough all you want, but he knew you were hurting and he knew when to shut up. You were stronger than he’d ever be, that’s how he always saw you and always will. But you fall apart sometimes and he’ll pick up the pieces without hesitation every single time. Every time.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m still here,” he murmured, words soft against your skin as he kissed your forehead.

You nod against him then, sniffling softly. You take a little while for your tears to die down, a little while of the soft sways of his embrace and it’s one that’s near bone crushing, of the way his thumb brushed back and forth against your shoulder blade, or the way his stubble felt brushing against your forehead.

It took a little while until you pulled back a bit, looking up at him with that look that turns his heart to mush every single time you give it. He sees those scratches on your face and he’s biting his tongue, fighting the anger that’s beginning to bubble up once more. Not at you, but at that werewolf that was two seconds from tearing his sweetheart to shreds. The thought made him furious but he pushed it down for your sake.

You lean on your toes and kiss him softly, one that lingered as his hand settled on your cheek. He kissed you once, twice, three times more as his nose bumps against your own, foreheads pressed against one another as your hand presses lightly around the back of his neck, your thumb brushing along his jaw. It set him at ease, you know it did.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere either,” you murmur, feeling his nod against you, felt his hum against your lips before he kisses you again. You knew he wouldn’t let it go that easily, knew it for a fact, but he’d bring it up some other day.

He’d always find you, you could count on it—he’d always find his way back to you.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[sacredsorceress]

Whatever || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: you catch your best friend bucky matching with another woman online and you can’t help but feel protective over your favorite super soldier

a/n: i've been going through writer’s block recently, but i'm slowly getting back into it so please be patient with me and i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, insecurities, jealousy, a lot of dialogue

masterlist || taglist

“Y/n!” You heard as Sam called your name from the kitchen of the Compound.

Making your way around the corner and into the room, your eyes caught Bucky’s as you noticed him and Sam sitting side by side at the island, hovering over Bucky’s phone.

“Yeah?”

“You have to look at this.” Sam said pointing at the device in Bucky’s hand.

Coming up behind the two of them, you glanced at Bucky’s phone and saw the photo of a woman displayed on his screen, the words “It’s a Match!” glowing tauntingly above her picture.

Biting back the feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach, you cleared your throat and turned to Sam.

“Yeah?” You said, attempting to mask the hurt in your voice. “What about it?”

At your response, Sam threw his arms up in the air and laughed in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” He shouted. “How does a woman like that match with a guy like this?”

Glancing back over Bucky’s shoulders at the photo you shrugged.

You had to admit that the woman was gorgeous- anyone with eyes would be able to see it- just the sight of her made you shrink back into yourself, seeing none of yourself in the unnamed woman and knowing that you weren’t her- the one Bucky did want.

However, you knew that no matter utterly stunning she may be- she couldn’t compare to Bucky.

You could barely believe the way Bucky and Sam were talking about the two of them- as if the woman Bucky hadn't even said one word to had hung the stars in the sky and that Bucky would be lucky to have her.

You knew better though.

You knew Bucky better.

Any woman- especially the one he had just matched with- would be lucky to have him. Although the woman was no doubt beautiful- you could feel your breath catch in your throat anytime his eyes met yours- he was breathtaking. Although the woman’s short bio made her seem like fun- Bucky could make you laugh in a way another person hadn’t done in years.

He was skilled, intelligent, kind-

you could go on all day.

“She’s completely out of his league!”

Snapping out of your own thoughts, you shoved at Sam, nearly knocking him off of his stool.

“She’s not ‘out of his league’.” You defended Buck.

“She kind of is.” Bucky finally interjected, looking over his shoulder at you.

A thick silence settled around the two of you as your eyes met Bucky’s- not missing the hint of defeat in his gaze.

Turning away you shook your head.

“She really isn’t though, Buck.” You said unable to look at him.

“Am I the only one not in on some joke right now?” Sam asked, looking around the room. “Are there hidden cameras or something? Y/n, she’s a model.”

Quickly growing frustrated by the conversation, you crossed your arms.

“So?” You asked. “What about it?”

“He's one hundred and six!” Sam exclaimed. “He doesn’t know how to take a picture on his phone! It’s just unbelievable. I mean really, man, I’m happy for you.”

Watching the smirk on Bucky’s face grow at Sam’s words, chuckling along with his best friend, you couldn’t help but let out an involuntary huff before throwing your hands in the air and making your way out of the room.

Hearing the sound of your footsteps padding out of the kitchen, Bucky broke away from his conversation with Sam, instead turning his head only to catch you storming out of the doorway of the kitchen he and his friend were sat in.

Watching you leave, Bucky felt a tinge of guilt, shutting off his phone and slipping it into his pocket before pushing himself out of his chair.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, taking a swig of the beer in his hand.

“I don't know.” Bucky admitted, fidgeting with the band of his watch that was fastened around his wrist. “I just um... I’m just gonna go check on Y/n.”

Rushing down the hallway, you almost felt silly for feeling the way you did.

You and Bucky were friends.

You and Bucky were friends and nothing more.

You complimented him because you admired him and believed he deserved the world. You wanted to spend every free moment with him because the two of you clicked like you had with no one else. You smiled with him because he was your good friend who had been with you through thick and thin...

Not because every time he smiled back at you, you swore you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Not because you secretly felt your heart skip a beat every time his hand touched yours or that if you thought about the future for too long you would always find him beside you.

It wasn't because of that.

You loved him as a friend.

You’re friends. You told yourself.

But all that did was make you ask yourself why you were so upset over the thought of him being happy with someone else?

You wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy.

Why couldn’t he just do that with you?

“Y/n.” Bucky called before you felt his vibranium hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back.

Turning to face him, you couldn’t help the biting tone in your voice.

“What?”

Taken back by your tone, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bucky asked. “Why are you so pissed off at me?”

Attempting to pull your wrist from his grasp, you felt his grip only grow stronger.

“I’m not pissed off at you, Buck.” You huffed.

“Yeah? Then why are you trying to pull away, huh?”

At his comment, you stopped struggling in his grasp, instead turning to look up at him with your eyebrows raised. Sensing you relaxing, he slowly pulled his hand away from your arm, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” He asked, voice growing softer.

“Nothing’s wrong, Buck.” You sighed.

Staring at the man in front of you, a part of you just wanted to tell him- to confess to him that your feelings had crossed the line of friendship that the two of you had been wordlessly sworn to for so long.

You almost told him- the words nearly finding a way to escape from your lips as they opened.

You almost did.

Almost.

Just as you leaned into his presence, you heard another notification alert him on his phone. 

Your eyes locked and you wanted to beg him not to grab it- to plead with him to stay in the moment with you.

But as you gazed up at him, you swore you could feel your heart shatter in your chest when you watched as he slipped the phone out of his pocket, eyes leaving yours to train them on the screen once more.

Watching as he pulled his other hand out of his pocket to type on the phone in his hand, almost as if you were invisible in front of him, you bit your lip and shook your head.

“You know what, James?”

Glancing up from his device, you watched as his mouth opened, but before even a word could fumble out of his mouth, you shoved the phone back into his chest.

“I hope you're happy.”

[tom-holland-parker]

Drafted

Summary: Bucky has to tell you that he leaves tomorrow but not without leaving you with plans for when he gets back

Pairing: 40s!bucky x reader

Word count: 1344

Notes: Broke my heart while writing this because we all knows what happens after he leaves and Jesus Christ it just hurts to think about how y/n is gonna feel when she realizes he not coming back...ughhhh

Masterlist

Bucky had made a lot of choices in his life, but deciding to keep this a secret was the hardest one. The letter remained in his sock drawer for weeks as he contemplated ways to tell you, his guilt eating him alive as the days drew closer

“I got drafted”

He’d practiced those words over and over again trying to find any way to make them sound different. Trying to make them sound better. Maybe a larger part of him was hoping it would all go away if he avoided it but he knew it wouldn’t, not with the way the war was going.

So now here he was with 1 day left to tell you the truth

Bucky took a deep breath as he knocked on your door, smiling when your mother opened it, “Good Evening Ma’am”

“Hello James, Y/N is just getting her shoes on, please come in” She said as she opened the door wider. Bucky stepped in, enjoying the familiar smell of your mother's apple pie coming from the kitchen, “So where will you two be going tonight?”

“We’re going to the Stark expo tonight” You replied as you came down the stairs. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, wearing the pink dress he loved on you and the necklace he gave you for your birthday last year. “Well look at you all dolled up for me” He said as he kissed your cheek. 

“Not too bad yourself handsome” You chuckled, “We should get going, Mom I’ll be home by curfew love ya”

///

The night was amazing, filled with fun as you and Bucky looked at all the new inventions. As the night went on Bucky glanced at his watch nervously, “Doll we gotta go” You chuckled grabbing his hand, “My curfew isn’t for another two hours”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders as you both quickly jumped into the car he borrowed from a friend, “We’re actually making a quick stop before I drop you off” He said as he began to drive. Your brows furrowed, “Where exactly are you taking me Mr. Barnes?”

He chuckled, “if I tell you it’d ruin the surprise”

You jokingly huffed in disappointment as you looked out the window, watching as the apartment building quickly turned into houses, you were definitely far from home, “Bucky where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry you’ll like it.” He stopped driving after a few more minutes, parking outside of a small white house with a match white picket fence boarding the lawn. You glanced at him, your face filled with confusion, “A house?”

He chuckled pointing towards the house, “One day I’m gonna buy you that house” You smiled, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. “And we’ll have two kids,” he continued, “and a dog”

“And fireworks every fourth of July” You chimed in, picturing your picture perfect life with Bucky. He’d come home after a long day of work, greeting you with a kiss. You guys would throw a huge barbeque every fourth of July, ending the night with fireworks and s’mores. You watch from the back door as Bucky plays catch with your son while you cradle the sleeping baby girl in your arms.

So many scenarios played out in your head as you rested in his arms, it wasn’t until he placed a small kiss on your temple that you were pulled out of your imagination. You looked up at him, his lips meeting your for a quick kissed before he pulled away from you, “I have to tell you something”

“What's wrong?” You questioned, noticing the look of nervousness and worry on his face. He took a deep breath, here goes nothing, he thought to himself, “I got drafted. I leave tomorrow”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, you see the countless of boys being drafted and every night you prayed that Bucky would never be added to that list of boys, but as luck would have it here you were. You stood silent, utterly speechless as your eyes filled with tears. Trying but failing to blink them away as you shook your head in disbelief, “No you’re lying. That’s not something to joke about”

Bucky’s heart broke as he watched you process the words he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you”

“How could you keep this from me?” You wiped your tears, it was useless though, the tears just kept falling. Bucky sighed pulling you into a hug before gently holding your face with his large hands, “I’m sorry, If I could change it I would but don’t worry I’m going to come back to you no matter what it takes”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, “Promise?” 

He smiled, kissing your forehead, “I promise”

///

The next day you got up extra early, catching Bucky at the bus stop surrounded by the other drafted men who were saying goodbye to the people they loved, “what are you doing here?” he said as he pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you around before letting you go.

You chuckled, “Did you really think I’d let you leave without saying goodbye?”

“No, I figured you’d find some way to see me before I left.” He said with a smile, “So what do you think” he took a step back so you could see him fully. It hurt to see him in his uniform but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked. 

“Well aren’t you a dreamboat” You joked, “I need a picture before you leave”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but smiled for the camera as you took the picture, you smiled as the polaroid printed, “Gotta show our future kids just how handsome you are” 

“Well it’s only fair that they get to see what a catch their mother is” he grabbed the camera, pulling you closer to him as he took a picture of the both of you. “Keep it” you chuckled, putting it in his pocket, “that way all the pretty nurses will know your mine��

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You know I only have eyes for you doll”

“Alright boys, on the bus” the tall man shouted. You watched as everyone said their final goodbyes. You looked at him, not having the guts to say goodbye, “two kids and a dog” You said quietly as tears slowly trailed down your face. It was an unusual way to say goodbye but it was good enough for you.

Bucky nodded, kissing your forehead before pulling you in for a final hug, “and fireworks every fourth of July”

Present day

It took a long time for Bucky to gain the courage to actually go to the museum, every time he thought about going he would chicken out. Too nervous to think about that time in his life. It took Sam weeks to finally convince him to go and now here he was, staring at the exhibit dedicated to people that died in the war.

He rolled his eyes as he saw his face on the screen, “James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes, died during an ambush. His remains were not found, his only belonging found was a picture many say he kept in his pocket at all times. This picture can be found at the end of the exhibit on the photography wall” He heard the guide tell the group of people nearby. 

He sighed making his way to the end of the exhibit, searching the wall for the picture. It took a few minutes but there it was. There was obvious damage, wear and tear from years of being tossed around but he could still see you. He could still make out all the lines on your face, the shape of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He smiled, taking out his phone to take a picture of it. He took one last look at it before deciding he’d had enough for today. He’d come back another day to see you again

[brunchable]

BIG DICK is back in town | Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Boyfriend Bucky Barnes x f!reader Themes: Funny? Just Bucky being a menace to his girlfriend. Summary: Bucky came back from being away for a weeks, now that he's back you can finally play your revenge on him after he pulled a prank on you before he left. A/N: I can't stop laughing while writing this, then again i have a shallow sense of humour. . .

Bucky had just gotten back into town after a mission that kept him away for weeks. He was expecting a quiet lunch with his girlfriend, and maybe a couple of friends. What he didn’t expect was the t-shirt you handed him that morning.

“Put this on,” you said sweetly, too sweetly, as you tossed the shirt at him.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he unfolded the shirt. His face immediately twisted in shock and horror when he read the massive, bold black text: “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN.”

He blinked, his mouth slightly open, and then let out a strangled laugh. “No. No way. There’s no way I’m wearing this.”

“Yes way,” you batted your eyelashes, doing your best to look innocent. “You have no choice.”

Bucky glanced at you, then did a double take at the walk-in closet, which was suspiciously empty. All his shirts—gone. Vanished. Not even a single plain tee left hanging. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You just crossed your arms, smirking. “Actions have consequences, babe.”

He ran a hand through his hair, still half in disbelief. “This is because of the doll heads, isn’t it?”

“Hm, that was a good one. . .” You look narrowed your eyes at the memory.

Bucky thought it would be funny to buy a bunch of creepy, old-fashioned doll heads from a thrift store. Then, he strategically placed them around the apartment—under your pillow, in the fridge, behind the shower curtain, even in your bag. The final straw had been when you found one staring at you from inside a cereal box.

You had screamed. A lot. Bucky had laughed. A lot.

“But no, this is not about the doll heads.”

Bucky breathily laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It's the arm. It's because of the arm isn't it?”

Your smirk widened. Oh, it was definitely because of the arm. A few days before his mission, Bucky had pulled the ultimate prank on you. He’d convinced you that he had lost his arm—like, the entire vibranium arm—by hiding it in the dishwasher. When you came home and found Bucky lying on the couch, dramatically holding his shoulder and claiming, “I just...I don’t know where I left it,” you freaked out. You tore the place apart looking for it, almost hyperventilating at the thought of your boyfriend wandering around missing a whole limb.

Then Bucky had pointed to the dishwasher after it finished its cycle with the most innocent face in the world. “Oops,” he had said with a wink.

You had not spoken to him for the rest of the day.

So, now, here he was, standing in the bedroom, staring at the most embarrassing t-shirt he had ever seen. And you weren’t done yet.

“So now, you get to wear that and face the public. Including Steve, Sam, and Nat.” you said, your tone dripping with vengeance.

“Oh you didn't,” Bucky muttered with a groan, staring at the shirt like it might burn a hole through his hand. “You invited them, too?”

“Of course. What’s revenge without an audience?”

There was no way out of it. Bucky knew when he was defeated. “I’m never going to live this down.”

You beamed, utterly delighted. “That’s the point, babe.”

With a resigned sigh, Bucky knew he had no choice. This was payback, and you had every right to exact your revenge. Besides, if there was one thing Bucky Barnes wasn’t, it was a coward.

Bucky peeled his old shirt off, revealing his ripped torso, and tossed it casually in your direction. He caught you glancing at him, your eyes momentarily lingering on the sharp definition of his muscles, but you quickly masked your ogling with a smirk. 

He paused for effect, stretching a little more than necessary, emphasising every ripple in his abs and arms before picking up the dreaded t-shirt. 

"Enjoying the view?" he teased, his lips twitching into a playful grin.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "I mean, it's not bad," you said, your voice light with sarcasm. But your eyes betrayed you. 

Bucky, now fully aware of the attention, dramatically sighed as he pulled the embarrassing t-shirt over his head. 

"Let's just get this over with." 

As the bold lettering stretched across his chest, he shot you a look. "You know, this whole revenge thing? It won't save you from what's coming next." 

You just chuckled, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest, right over the words "BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN." You looked up at him, a devilish glint in your eyes.

“I'm looking forward to it, Big Dick.”

× × × × 

When Bucky and you arrived at the restaurant, he walked in with his head held high, trying to act like he wasn’t wearing the most humiliating piece of clothing in existence. You, of course, were grinning ear to ear, savouring every second of his discomfort.

As soon as Sam spotted Bucky from across the room, he burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh no! Oh no, man, this is too good!”

Steve, grinning like he was trying out a new stand-up routine, shook his head. “You know, Buck, I always figured you had a lot of baggage, but I didn’t think you’d advertise it so boldly.”

Steve continued and gestured to the shirt with a broad smirk. “You sure you want the world to know what we’ve all been suspecting?”

Natasha, biting her lip to suppress a laugh, finally cracked. “I have so many questions. But also, no questions at all,” she said, covering her mouth as she tried and failed to hold in her giggles, while Sam was practically in tears beside her.

“I lost a bet,” Bucky mumbled, sliding into his seat and trying to cover the text with his arms. But every time he moved, the words on his chest seemed to scream louder: “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN.”

You sat next to him, clearly enjoying the show. “He didn’t lose a bet,” you corrected, your grin growing wider. “He’s just paying for his crimes.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Crimes?”

Your eyes sparkled as you turned to the table. “He made me think he lost his arm. Like, completely gone. I nearly had a heart attack tearing the house apart trying to find it, and it was in the dishwasher the whole time.”

Sam almost fell off his chair laughing. “That’s—oh man—that’s genius! I mean, that’s terrible, but genius.”

Bucky shot you a side-eye, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself. “She’s out for blood now.”

“And you deserve it,” you said with a wink, sipping your drink.

As lunch kicked off, the group quickly slipped into the usual dynamic, a comfortable mix of teasing, banter, and catching up. Sam was the first to start piling his plate with food. “I don’t know how you survived without my cooking, Buck. These missions must be torture.”

Bucky, still trying to cover up his shirt as much as possible, raised an eyebrow. “You mean burning toast? Yeah, real hardship.”

“Hey, that’s gourmet burnt toast to you, pal,” Sam shot back, pretending to look offended.

Natasha smirked as she picked at her salad. “I’m more curious how you managed to avoid getting your arm stuck in the dishwasher, considering that’s apparently where it lives now.”

Steve, biting into his sandwich, was trying not to laugh with his mouth full. “Can’t believe you actually managed to hide your arm. That’s dedication.”

You snorted, leaning in. “You know what’s worse? He didn’t even try to help me find it. He was just sitting there watching me panic!”

Bucky gave an innocent shrug. “You’re resourceful. I figured you’d find it… eventually.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Buck, sometimes I wonder how you survived all those years without us babysitting you.”

Sam nearly choked on his drink. “I’m starting to think Hydra trained him just to prank the people closest to him. That’s some next-level psychological warfare.”

You pointed your fork at Sam. “Exactly! He’s weaponized his own arm, guys. I’m living with a literal menace.”

Bucky looked around the table, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, you’re all still alive, so I must not be that dangerous.”

“Yet,” Natasha muttered. “Give him another day.”

You glanced at Bucky and laughed. “You know, I did think about ‘accidentally’ sending his arm to Tony’s lab as a prank in return.”

Steve perked up, “Oh, please. Can you imagine the look on Tony’s face when a random metal arm shows up?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Man, Stark would never let him live that down. Every time he’d walk into a room, it’d be ‘Need a hand, Buck?’”

Everyone burst out laughing at that, even Bucky, who threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Maybe I took it a little far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

Natasha, with a mischievous grin, leaned over toward Bucky, “So, what’s the next prank in your arsenal, Barnes? Or are you too scared to top the arm stunt?”

Bucky grinned back. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m always planning something.”

“Not if I get you first,” you chimed in, narrowing your eyes at him.

Sam shook his head, chuckling. “I’m staying out of this. You two are gonna end up blowing up your apartment.”

As everyone finished their meals, Bucky was finally starting to relax, the embarrassment of the shirt fading slightly under the barrage of jokes and laughter. But that didn’t stop Sam from leaning in with a sly grin.

“So, Buck,” Sam said, his tone dripping with mischief. “How’s it feel to be back in town?”

Bucky deadpanned, “Empowering. Really, really empowering.”

Natasha snorted into her drink, and Steve, usually the composed one, was struggling not to burst out laughing. “Well, Buck, you’ve definitely made a statement today.”

Just then, a random passerby glanced at Bucky’s shirt, gave him an approving nod, and a thumbs up as they passed, causing the entire table to burst into another round of laughter. Even Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it all.

By the end of lunch, Bucky had to admit, the prank war was far from over. As they stood to leave, he shot you a playful glance. “You know this means war, right?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, still grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Bring it on, Barnes.”

With that, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close as you walked out of the restaurant. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, causing you to smile up at him. Even with the world’s most embarrassing t-shirt on, Bucky Barnes was never one to back down from a challenge — and he was pretty sure you were the best kind of challenge.

As you both approached the car, Bucky opened the door for you, his hand resting on the top of the doorframe like the perfect gentleman. Just as you were about to slide in, a stranger walking by shouted, “Nice shirt, man!”

Bucky paused, shaking his head with a resigned smile, while you burst into laughter from the passenger seat. “Told you it’d be a hit,” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, closing the door behind you before turning to wave at the stranger, who was still grinning at him.

Bucky got into the driver’s seat and glanced over at you, his smile growing as he shook his head. “You know payback’s gonna be hell for you, right?”

[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard​

@wordsxstars​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@courtofjurdan​

@emmiesbook​

@killian-me-slowly​

@miserablemusings​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@booksbqueen​

@flamingveritas​

@tomtenadia​

@fromthelibraryofemilyj​

@loudphantomdragon​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@superspiritfestival​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@charlizeed​

@nish247

@vasudharaghavan

@maybekindasortaace

@mariamuses

@frosted-crackers

@foughtconquered

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[marvelyhp]

Still you | chapter II

Chapter II: The comeback

Synopsis: Y/n decides to help the Avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

Pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

Word count: 5,997

warnings: cussing, some fluff

note: I know I took so long but I had writer's block. then, I got covid and I felt too awful to write. But I'm okay now so this is what I could come up with. Not my greatest stuff. the tag list is open :)

Side note: I would really appreciate hearing from you and your thoughts!

--------------------

We managed to lower two floors without raising suspicion or making too much noise. At least, James and I were pretty silent, whispering if needed. But of course, Stark always had to open his damn mouth. He had been talking all the way —pretty loudly too— and he just did it again.

“Where’s the grandpa with the bad luck of having you as a tenant?” The man didn’t know the meaning of whispering. Or maybe he did. He just wanted to make my life more complex than it was. I looked frantically behind me, praying he had not seen me sneaking out. At the sight of no one, a breath of relief exploded out of me. But it didn’t last long, irritation quickly dampening my already poor mood.

“Shut the hell up!” I hissed. My patience with the insufferable man wearing thin.

“Oh, relax. If he sees us, we’ll knock him out and blame you.” He mocked, a chuckle erupting throughout the hall and following the stairlike a draft of wind. My blood started to boil inside my veins and I felt the heat spread from head to toes. I was afraid to be reaching my tipping point already because this was nothing. Two years out of practice left me hypersensitive to his shit. I wondered how long I would be able to stand the insufferable mortal and regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

“He is a good man, Stark. We will not knock him out.” I whispered as I pressed myself against the wall. Twisting my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I sneaked a glance at the stairs and the visible space from the top. “Watch your step here. His room is right underneath the stairs. We don’t want to wake him up.

I walked forward, pressing my foot in the first step, praying the creak of the old wood would keep quiet today as it did some nights. At least that’s what I hoped but it wasn’t what happened. A groan broke the silence in the room and I knew that if he was awake, he definitely heard it. I waited a couple of seconds, alert to any noise. When nothing came, I advanced four more steps. I focused on the one shadow dancing in the wall and relief swept through me. He wasn’t awake.

I turned, thinking the guys were still up. However, I let out a gasp when Bucky’s face came into view, mere inches away from mine. Thanks to the startle, the foot I had dangerously close to the edge slipped.

My heart stopped as I thought about the fall and the inevitable bone-crushing pain that would come after it. The stairs were pretty high and even though they were wood, it was quite sharp. Splinters roamed everywhere. I waited for the pain and the strenuous sound. It was phenomenal, the first time I saw the team in two years and I would meet them in a body bag with a broken neck.

However, it never came.

When I opened my eyes, blue electric eyes stared back at me. Our faces were inches away from each other. A hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him to hold me from falling. I was hyper-aware of our breaths clashing against each other, making the most sinful of sounds. Our lips were separated by a small space, too close for my brain to catch up quickly. I noticed how his lips roamed my face, stopping at my lips slightly parted by the surprise. His eyes held a fervent fire and my breath quickened once I felt the inevitable rush of warmth roaring my body.

Coughing slightly, I took a step backward, stepping out of his grasp. I forgot all about the landlord as I scolded myself. The man looked at me and there I was getting flushed like a raging hormonal teenager. I looked at everything but Bucky’s face, why I knew still had his eyes on me except now his jaw was firmly set. I wanted to ask him what was going on inside his head but a hovering shadow at the top of the stairs captured my attention.

“What are you still doing up there?'' The man looked utterly confused standing at the top of the stairs surrounded by darkness. I wondered if it had to do with what he just witnessed.

“You care about that grandpa, don’t you?” His expression was one of disbelief. His body wasn’t moving as if in shock or trying to process the information he thought was correct. And it was, but he didn’t have to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, unaffected.

“Of course you do. You care about the landlord.”

I whirled around as fast as I could with the incident earlier present in my head as a gruff voice filled the room. A short, stubby old man stood at the foot of the stair dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts. The ends of his hair stood up as if held by a string and maneuvered by a child. His narrowed black eyes stared back at us. His lips pressed in a thin line.

“Of course, she does, kid. Why shouldn't she?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. I followed the movement of the milk dancing in the glass on his right hand. I felt proud of the English I had taught him and how-- as much as I didn't want this to happen-- useful it would be. I looked back at Stark to find him gaping like a fish. Little croaks came from his throat but no coherent words came from him. It was the first time I had seen Stark speechless. “I’m an incredible landlord if I say so myself.”

He was.

I cursed inwardly. There were things I didn't want everyone to know. To a certain extent, I wasn’t ready for the team, for Stark, to find out that I wasn’t the monster he expected me to be. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me differently. Andrei had the power to change our whole dynamic.

It wasn’t that Andrei and I shared anything about life. Or at least I didn’t. Andrei liked to talk, to share his life with me, and try to make me talk. He said I was too reserved. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

It had been a warm evening. I could see the sun filtering through the windows. Shining onto the top of the show top and illuminating the cottage-like bakery. The dough in my hands stuck to my skin, lumps of a uniformed cream mass suffocating the fingers. The powdered white dust sat beside me and I felt irritated. I hadn’t thought about pouring it on the mixture before I touched it. ‘I was out of my element here’ I thought as I reached for the flour.

Andrei’s baker had abruptly called five minutes before work notifying him he couldn’t work his shift. His grandmother had fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip, hence his lack of concern for Andrei. He was the only living relative she had so it fell upon him to look after her. One missed shift would turn into dozens. The bakery was small and hidden in a remote part of Romania. The clientèle was not much besides those living in the small town from years ago, or even since they were born.

Everyone in town knew each other. When I arrived I had my doubts about staying in this place because of that same reason. I would be the talk for weeks and I couldn’t risk so many people questioning my presence. Except, I was lucky.

One evening, I sat in a small and dark corner of a bar near the outskirts of the town where it was most probable to see an outsider. Two men sat a couple of feet away from me, talking fairly loudly. Out of boredom and desire to know the people I might have been seeing every day, I heard and studied their moments. Taking notes about their behaviors and storing them far into the file I had on humanity. Their voices were cheery as they ate pastries that I was sure to not be from the small bar.

“This is so good! I can’t believe I haven't tasted a pastry this good since I left,” he moaned loudly in reaction to the puff on his hand. The crumbly dessert spilling powdered sugar all over his dark gray pants. “Andrei hasn’t lost his touch.”

“Who is this Andrei you talk so highly of?” The older male asked the seemingly young partner. The man wore an expensive suit, not one that could be found here and from what I gathered from their conversation, he had not grown up here. But his friend did. What he said next grabbed my attention the most.

“His bakery is pretty hidden in the town. Someone that didn’t know the road would not find him. He used to be a criminal, on the run and all that. But since he got out of prison he became a baker. the man sure has a gift. I don’t even know why he went to jail, because the man is a sweetheart. I think he was just dealt a bad hand.” The man kept munching on his pastry as he talked. The vowels all merging to create a soundless blob. I swore he said more but that was all I could understand and by the face of his friend, he understood less.

“It’s such a small town. Why was it never known?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that he was born here but left, something to do with his family. He came back years later, on the run from some people. People we assumed to be the police. Of course, the police followed his trail and eventually found him here. Two years later. He hid pretty well if, you asked me. He treats people with respect but he never talks about himself. He has always been reserved when it comes to his life, only telling small details that lead to nothing. You know, not enough to form a life picture…”

Before he finished talking, I was out of my seat, walking towards the pair. I plastered an innocent look on my face, one I had studied and perfected many times since coming to earth. I relaxed my posture, knowing I had been tense and tucked since I entered this town. I still can’t believe I was social before. Nobody would believe that if I told them now.

“Hey, those pastries look marvelous!” I said in a cheery voice when I reached the pair. Both of their heads whipped towards my direction, curiosity written in their faces. I could hear the questions in their head about me and where I came from and what I looked for in town. Typical gossiping mortals. I wanted to cut the tie between our heads, feeling bad about corrupting the men’s thoughts. But I couldn’t, not until I had what I wanted. “Do you know where could I find them?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, sweet thing?” Sweet thing, that’s funny. If he had been into the American news he would not say that.

“Calypso. Do you know where the place is? Can you explain it to me?” I said, trying to hide the hurry in my voice. His thoughts were front seat in my mind, not wanting to miss a thing.

“So eager.” He chuckled. Instead of the route, I was expecting, he thought about my naked form and countless sexual images began replaying. I resisted the urge to impale his backside, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. I played his game. I battered my eyelashes and looked at him from hooded eyes. I bit my lip gently and walked closer. Sneaking a glance at his friend, I noticed he was no longer looking at us. He seemed uncomfortable and had turned to his coffee and pastries. I wish I had a coffee to turn to.

“Maybe you could take me there. If you remember the way, of course.” He smirked and grabbed the jacket slung over the wooden chair he sat on. His friend looked at us, startled as if he wasn’t expecting my response. However, the joy of his friend would be short-lived. Images of the way to the small bakery filled my head and I smirked. Before he could take my hand to guide me to his car I asked for the restroom.

As soon as I came in, my eyes searched for some window I could use to leave unnoticed. And I found it in the corner of the bathroom beside one of the huge black and white mirrors. I locked the door and hurried to open the window, sliding through the door. The darkness of the night didn’t face me but my alert was high. Everybody could hide in the dark. My heart rocked against my chest as I saw the same guy from early waiting beside his car. I hurried along the alleyway, pulling my hood up and hiding my hair, disappearing into the dark.

“Calypso, boy for you.” I was brought from my memories by the rough voice of Andrei. Whoever didn’t spend much time with him would think he was mad all the time thanks to his voice and forever furrowed white bushy eyebrows. I matched the furrowing of his eyebrows when he mentioned a boy. I had been careful enough to not get attached or get anyone attached to myself so the mention of another human being besides Andrei spooked me.

Suddenly, the thought of agents looking for me or the usual threats I had filled me with panic. I heard the thunderous beat of my heart. The tremble of my hands disrupted the beautiful form of the pastry in my hands. quickly cleaning and taking away the apron full of white dust, I walked to the front of the door.

A dark-haired man in his early twenties stood next to the door with a blue box in his hands. A white shimmering ribbon adorned the delicate box, wrapping silkily around it to form a well-done bow. The chiseled bone structure of his profile caught my breath as he looked to the small, underpopulated plaza in the corner of the rondure. The curvature of his roman nose and the thin shape of his lips sticking in his profile.

I saw him regularly at the small bakery. His usual was a Papanaşia with a black strong coffee. He left three dollars on the tip jar three times a week and I noticed if he was overly happy, he would leave a fiver regardless of the day or how many days he had tipped. I had seen him mad twice in the store. Seemingly, he was one of those guys that harbored every trouble inside in a chaotic turmoil. I knew because I had invaded his mind one of those times. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, knowing he was always the type of guy that carried the sun on his shoulder. Every time he caught my attention, I tried to remind myself that he could’ve been an agent sent by Hydra to kill me or worse, kidnap me.

“Hello. What can I help you with?” I said, confidence laced in my voice. The confidence I did not expect to have. His head whipped towards me. A smile broke on his face at the sight of me. I saw the fidgeting of the box in his hands and the sudden bobbing of his knee. He didn’t appear to be harboring any secrets, or at least not deadly ones.

“Hey. I know this will probably look very weird to you but I’ve been watch- I mean not watching but I just- I,” His stammering caused a giggle to leave my lips involuntarily. My hand immediately flew to my lips, hiding the smile corrupting my face. He lowered his face but not before giving me one of those smiles that could light up a world. God, I felt sappy. He looked at me once again. “I don’t know how to do this. I definitely didn’t think it through.” He chuckled. One of his hands came up to brush his face while shaking it, side to side. I could tell he was nervous, maybe more that I initially had been.

Seeing him stammer was the cutest thing I had seen since the little green and purple flowers that grew back home and surrounded our palace. So, I decided to help him a bit. “You could start with your name,” I said, trying to not smile too much. Agent, agent, agent…

“God, you probably should’ve done that first. Nice one.” He said, more to himself than for me to hear it. “I’m Razvan. It's lovely to finally meet you.” I shook his hand. It was rough yet soft with elongated fingers caressing my own small and thin one.

“Calypso.”

“What I meant to say, you know, before I shot myself in the foot was that you caught my eye since I first saw you. Now, I swear I'm not stalking you because it could be easy to think after the horrible introduction I just did. But, yeah, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”

I did think about it. I swear I did. I thought about how he could be linked to Hydra and if you searched on the deepest paranoid corner, the Avengers. I thought he could’ve been just a random murderer whose floor I had shaken. My voice of reason said no. and with the saddest feeling settling my stomach, I told him what I thought. Or tried to.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t. You seem like the loveliest person b-but I…” For some reason, I couldn’t just say no. “Can I think about this?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth while I tried to get the words ‘go away and ‘don’t speak to me’ out of my mouth. His smile faded a bit, but even then he tried to keep his positivity and bright personality on. I could feel the waves of disappointment once I started speaking but hope soon came flooding back.

“Sure. I'm a complete stranger coming here every day just to see you. I can see how that’s alarming. take your time.” He shook his head as if realizing what he had just said. He chuckled and I tried to give him a small smile. Before I could turn away and leave, I felt him touch my elbow. I jumped back.

His brows furrowed quickly. “Forgive me. This is for you. And please accept it.” I thought about refusing but this would only prolong this meeting, pushing me to accept a company I wasn't ready for. I took the small box, my hand already trying to open the shimmering blue box. “No, please. Open it later, more calmly and everything and you can tell me whenever you’re ready if you like it.” I gave him a smile, which he returned brightly before diving back inside the back of the store.

Once inside, I undid the delicate ribbon, watching it dissolve like seafoam by the lovely blue water. The glistening gold chain with a tiny, colorful Koi fish rested in the center of the box. My heart swelled and I felt a way I hadn’t felt since Bucky. He remembered what I had told him that first, and the only time we had talked before today.

The voice of Andrei brought me out of my stupor with a jump. A hand traveled to grasp my heart while the other held the box tightly.

“Razvan is nice guy.” His voice was gruff and deep like it had been since I had met him. He walked behind me and grabbed a pack of flour to dump beside me. I looked towards the other and realized I was running out of it.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. Comes every day for two years. Great boy.”

When I didn’t say anything, he stopped cutting open the pack of flour and turned to look at me. “You too reserved. Not want to end like Andrei alone. Give guy chance.” That was all he said before he left. A tall wrinkly woman with short red hair calling out for him.

The last thing I thought that day after he left drove me to the same road he had set me on. I didn’t want to end alone or die alone for that matter. But what was I to do if everyone thought I was a selfish monster who just wanted to kill and bring chaos? The only person who didn’t feel that particular way was the same man I was leaving without saying goodbye.

Stark seemed to have gathered his words together because he suddenly began spewing some shit on Andrei. shit, he didn’t like it.

“The girl is no selfish girl. Only a fool like yourself would think so. Only a blind man would propose such a thing.” His brows were furrowed but Otherwise, he was calmly standing at the bottom of the stairs sipping his milk. He seemed like he would continue but I made sure to stop him

“Andrei, no.”

“I see. She holds you hostage and controls you, doesn’t she?” Stark countered, a smirk settling in his features. I pinched my nose, sighing loudly.

“You have to leave with this buffoon?” I walked down to his side, muttering an annoyed yes. “I’m sadder for you than him.” A chuckle escaped him as he hugged my shoulders with one arm. I tried to push him away but found no will to do so. I would miss Andrei. He felt like the father I never had. Worry settled in my stomach knowing I had been here and I would no longer be if anything happened to him. I hugged him back, despite my better judgment and the four pairs of eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t forget about me, violet. Nor dear Razvan.’ He told me after letting me go. I nodded before calling back to my two companions. Stark came down, slowly walked to the front door. Bucky at his heels. They both turned. Bucky’s face had some sort of emotion I couldn't decipher. I thought I could, but I doubt he would feel happy about finding someone genuine to spend my days with.

Stark, on the other hand, looked at Andrei as if he had grown an extra head.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be dying at her touch or something? Are you sure she didn’t threaten you to act this way?” The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely confused. The skepticism in his voice hurt my feelings but the mere fact it was stark made me forget quickly. He was an insensitive prick with a personal vendetta.

“Take this fool away before I turn him into a human pastry,” Andrei commented. I walked towards them, chuckling. “Ai grijă, violet aprins.” Take care, fiery violet. The elder said before we shut the door behind us. my heart swelled at his words. I knew I would long for those quiet evenings where it would rain and we would sit down in the living room with a book, quietly enjoying our presence. We laughed and made new and invented pastries in the kitchen for days, always looking for new and innovative flavors. I would miss the man that had treated me like his daughter.

“Take care, Pop.” I whispered to myself. Not thinking a long-haired blue-eyed soldier would hear.

And just like that, we disappeared quietly into the night and I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

James let me know they came in the Quinjet, that enormous thing I had refused to sit on two years ago. the walk was not far from where we were and we found it in a while.

The Quinjet was hidden behind one of the buildings next to the bakery. the gigantic thing sleeping while we arrived to climb up. clint stood outside, his arms crossed. that man always looked like he was in a power pose.

“Romania? What is it with chased people and Romania?” Confusion and genuine interest were written all over his face.

Barton had always been a friend before I knew the truth. Nat told me she had told him in a drunken stupor. he tried to talk to her about telling me but she didn’t listen. I didn’t hold it against him because I knew he wasn’t actively participating but he didn’t do anything either.

I shrugged. “It’s a good hiding place. too many criminals organizations for you to matter. nobody cares who the hell you are as long as you keep quiet.”

“Good shadow place.” Bucky added as he tried to help me get in the Quinjet. I ignored his hand, focusing on Clint’s face.

“Exactly.” My response was clipped. if he was fishing for a normal conversation he was in for a treat.

After a while, we took off. My legs became restless as I sat in front of Stark and Bucky while Clint piloted the flying thing. boredom pushed me to get up from my seat and walk towards the front of the Quinjet. that, and Straks glare along with the awkwardness of Bucky’s movements.

Clint’s focused face came into view as I sat beside him. silence engulfed the both of us before he broke the silence with some words I didn’t expect.

“We missed you.” it was a quiet remark but full of shocking force. I just sat there, wide-eyed looking towards the already clearing sky. I looked towards him and forced myself to respond. a scoff came out of me, causing Clint to look rapidly towards me.

“You have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. Nat was pretty shaken up when you left. we looked for you everywhere and decided you didn’t want to be found. that you needed some time. it took you longer than we thought.”

“You didn’t find me because you didn’t look. You don’t have to lie to me, Barton.” I said, masking the hurt I felt with anger. why keep lying to me? I knew they didn’t care sop they didn’t need to act as they did.

“What? we did loo-” He never finished his sentence since Stark’s voice boomed around the small space. he came to let us know where would land soon as if we didn’t know already. Clint was the pilot, it was impossible for us to not know. suspicion arose in my chest but I soon forgot it when I saw the massive compound below us.

✹✹✹ I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t fluttering and my hands trembled slightly. I subtly rubbed my hands in my jeans, hoping to get some moisture away. But, there was something else bothering me. It had been there for a little while. The emptiness in my chest divided in two, as though… I don’t even know. The doors slid with a swift sound and my heart rate hit new floors.

I tried to avoid showing any emotion I felt. Seeing them surrounding the long table, all in their daily clothing made it hard to remember. I couldn’t show the happiness of seeing them all right after two years. Nor could I show the excitement deep in my bones seeing Wanda’s face. I couldn’t forget the damage (situation) those high-held beings made to my heart.

I looked at them with a mask of indifference firmly placed.

Wanda was the first to step forwards, as I knew she would. I didn’t expect her to but a part of me screamed how she had been the only real friend through the year I spent in this cage. I resisted the urge to hug her, touch her, and receive the reassurance I so deeply wanted.

“I thought- we thought you were dead.” The revelation shocked me. It felt as though they couldn’t believe I was alive. But I was. The question was… why did they think so?

“Nop. Still kicking.” I replied.

“Unfortunately.” I heard Stark mutter under his breath. I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to kick him. I could make him feel a true kick in his brain. And his ass, too.

“Y/n!” A high-pitched voice came from the corner next to me. The smiley face of Pepper Potts came rushing towards me, engulfing me in a hug. My nerve endings shot and I prayed my instinctive responses wouldn’t go through. Fortunately for me, they didn’t. Before I could even think to hold her back—which I wouldn’t have done anyway— she stepped back. Smile intact and a gleam in her eyes capable of illuminating the whole room.

“Jesus. You’ve changed so much!” Her hands settled on my shoulder, holding softly and slightly shaking my shocked frame. “I missed you.” Her vice took a sweet edge and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes scrutinized me with the look of a mother who had just seen her child after a hard year abroad. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably out of her grasp. I wasn’t used to this.

“Honey, leave the feral alien alone.” Tony’s voice reached my ears. “We have important matters to discuss.”

“God, Tony. Give us a break. We haven’t seen the kid in two years.” Natasha’s ______ filled the room as I saw her taking steps towards me. I noticed there were no relaxed steps but tense and wary. Her eyes held a sort of apology mixed with caution.

I just stared. Deep inside I didn’t know how to react to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who betrayed me gets closer. Her body language told me she was sorry but still cautious of my reaction but I didn’t know if I should forgive her. Her right hand stretched towards my frame. I shifted uncomfortably in place, moving slightly away from her.

I saw her eyes roam my body, noticing the discomfort. She came to a halt three feet away from me. Her lips were pursed as she let her head drop for a second. She recovered quickly, extending her same hand towards me, this time to shake my hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

I took her hand in mine, shaking firmly. I nodded my head towards her. My lips pursed. The movement of Wanda’s body caught my eye. She stepped closer to me, her hands nervously trembling beside her big, red jumper.

“Can I hug you?” Hearing those words coming out of her froze the ongoing flow of blood through my veins. I was shocked, to say the least. I bet I looked like a gaping fish as an incomprehensible string of detached words escaped my lips. Everyone else seemed as surprised as I was. For completely different reasons I would bet. As Stark had said, they thought I was a free being.

She waited patiently, probably aware of the shock and ongoing battle I had inside me. She was the only one aware of my thoughts about showing anything besides contempt. And she knew why. But I sent it all to hell and for once, I did what I wanted to do. I nodded.

Her smile was worth enough as she moved quickly towards me, as though worried I would change my opinion. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck, my lack of height apparent as my 5’1 ass reached her shoulders. I resisted the urge to cry as I wrapped my arms around her back, relishing in a familiar face that didn’t hate my only existence.

“I missed you.” It was a whisper, only for me to hear. A small smile escaped my lips as hope blossomed in my chest. Hope that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Hope that maybe someday I could have a family.

“I did too, Red.” I murmured back. Careful to not raise my voice as I didn’t want anyone to know anything. I felt oddly vulnerable to be hugging someone let alone hugging someone in front of seven people. I noticed Vision staring and I gave him a subtle nod, a small smile creeping upon my lips. He nodded back with that usual blank expression not in compass with the feelings he harbored. After some time, I let her go before Stark had another remark to make.

I noticed Steve leaning against a far-away table, maybe ten feet away from where I was. His head lowered, eyes on the ground. His arms surrounded his build, hugging himself with a heavy frown on his face. He didn’t want to look towards me and I thought I knew why. He was ashamed of what he did. He was guilty anyway you looked at it. He was guided by Bucky to do everything. He followed the man despite knowing it was wrong. Not because your friend tells you to throw yourself out the window means you’ll do it. He knew full well what was wrong and right. He knew Barnes' proposal was as low as a man could get.

If he didn’t apologize and acknowledge what he did, he was dead to me. I mean, he had tried to apologize that day, but I was devastated and no words came through my anger.

There were a few handshakes and subtle nods here and there before I noticed a presence missing. I looked around for the usual big man with an overinflated sense of heroism but didn’t find him. He was big enough for anyone to spot him. I felt a pang in my chest and a tingle at the back of my head and I knew something was wrong. The air shifted and my hands started trembling slightly.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, my voice slightly shaky. I tried to compose myself, knowing he had to be alright or I would’ve felt something.

“We don’t know. We couldn’t get a hold of him.” Natasha replied. I noticed the subtle worry etched in her face lines.

Suddenly, I understood that emptiness inside me. That swirling emotion unlatched to an earthy body. One of the connectors inside of me, besides bucky’s, was empty. It didn’t have any energy to connect to.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t realize I began hyperventilating while the word repeated itself over and over in my head. My chest rose and fell quickly while the air got caught in my throat. My hand shot out to grasp anything in reach I could hold myself up with.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?” Wanda was the first to step forward and grab my elbow. Her soft touch didn't completely register in my sensory sense. The only thing in my mind was the heavy colorless fog swirling around in my insides.

The worst part was, I didn’t know which of my brothers it belonged to. I thought about them and how long it had been since I had seen them. Since I had been with them.

“Can you all excuse me?” I pulled myself together and without waiting for a response, I hurried across the room. I thought about the me that they just saw but somewhere deep down, I didn’t care.

I hurried, passing Steve's body. This time, he looked intently at me. I didn’t expect him to stand up and grab my shoulders. By this point, my vision was blurry and I tried hard to reconnect with the missing life essence.

“Y/n, I-”

“Can we do this later, Rogers?” I spat, cutting him off before getting my elbow out of his grasp. I left, shuddering and feeling a wave of anger rising in my chest.

What a good way to make a comeback.

TAG LIST:

@jessyballet

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

@paryl

@sltwins

@greenlibra10

[swaps55]

The Hand and the Heart

Pairing: mShenko | Rating: M

Yet another First Kiss AU for Sam and Kaidan, spinning off from a scene in chapter 12 of Cantata. Sam wingman’s a reluctant Kaidan into a date, and makes it everyone’s problem. 

Ao3

~

07 March, 2181, Arcturus Stream, Arcturus, Arcturus Station

Maddie offers Kaidan a drink when he walks her back to her hotel room, but he smiles, thanks her, and declines.

“I had a good time tonight,” she tells him, with only a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

“Me too,” Kaidan admits. “It was great to see you.”

When her door closes, with Kaidan safely on the other side of it, he starts the walk back to his own room six floors up. But when the elevator approaches level eight, he signals for it to stop and gets off a floor early. When he finds the right room, he thumbs the door chime.

The lock turns green and the door opens with a hiss and a whir. Inside, Shepard slouches in a chair, brow furrowed, tapping a stylus against a datapad while some holovid runs on a screen he isn’t watching. His biotic field sets Kaidan’s nerves alight, an invisible shock to the system, just like always, but instead of acknowledge him, Shepard’s eyes stay trained on the datapad, like he didn’t even hear Kaidan come in.

Kaidan waits. Shepard doesn’t look up.  

“Hey,” Kaidan says cautiously.

“Hey,” Shepard replies, still studying his datapad.

Kaidan moves further into the room and takes a seat at the edge of Shepard’s bed. “I…thought I’d check in.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow, still not looking up. “About what?”

“What do you mean about what?” Kaidan asks with a chuckle. “You were so adamant about sending me off with Maddie, I figured you’d want to know how it went.”

Finally, Shepard’s eyes slide from the datapad up to Kaidan, but his expression remains utterly detached. “Assume it went fine.”

Kaidan crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. That’s it. Just…assume it went fine, no further input needed.”

“Your love life is your business.” Shepard tosses the datapad aside and gets to his feet. “I don’t need the details.”

Kaidan stares at him in disbelief. “You sure were invested in it a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, well.” Shepard begins to pace.

“Well, what?”  

“Well nothing.”

“So you don’t give a shit,” Kaidan prods, watching him carve a path back and forth through the tiny room. “After throwing me at her, you don’t give a shit what happened.”

“I didn’t throw you at her. You went willingly enough.”

There’s enough bite in his voice that Kaidan blinks in surprise, not even sure he heard correctly.

“I went…willingly? You shoved me out of the booth!”

“Whatever.” Shepard waves a dismissive hand.

Kaidan’s eyes widen a little. “You’re pissed at me. Why the hell are you pissed at me?”

“Why would I be pissed at you?”

Kaidan tosses a hand in the air. “You tell me. If anything, I should be the one pissed off.”

“You? Why you?”  

“You coerced me into a date I didn’t want,” Kaidan snaps. “When have you ever seen me express an interest in dating someone?”

“I hardly sent you off with a stranger looking to jump your dick,” Shepard says with a derisive snort. “She was a friend. Given the way you couldn’t take your eyes off her, a friend you wanted to connect with. Match made in heaven.”

Kaidan stares at him, long and hard. “She’s not who I wanted to connect with.”

Shepard stares right back, every ounce of that directed energy gaze locked on target. Kaidan shakes his head.  

“You know what, forget it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Kaidan brushes past him to get to the door, but before he can get there Shepard’s puts a hand on his arm and spins him around until they collide against each other. He opens his mouth to protest, but can’t get any words out, because Shepard’s lips are on his.

Oh god.

It’s clumsy, awkward, but it’s Shepard, cupping Kaidan’s neck between both hands, pushing his tongue between his teeth and kissing him for all he’s worth. Their biotic fields hum as they tangle together,  buzzing through Kaidan’s nerves and flooding his skin with goosebumps.

Shepard. Oh god, oh god.

For years he’s clung to the edge of Shepard’s event horizon, unable to veer off to safety, unable to take the fall, but in the warmth of Shepard’s mouth he gives into the relentless pull and lets gravity do the rest. His stomach somersaults in the freefall, heart pounding in his ears, with nothing to hold onto but Shepard himself.

A small sound escapes his throat.

Shepard inhales like he’s been shot, lays a palm flat against Kaidan’s chest and shoves, hard enough Kaidan stumbles.

“Fuck,” Shepard sputters. “Oh, fuck.”

Kaidan’s head swims, face flushed, lips still swollen with the lingering heat of Shepard’s mouth. “Shepard,” he murmurs, almost dizzy.

Shepard takes a step back, eyes wide with dismay, expression frozen. Kaidan’s euphoria fades into a coil of dread.

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t…fuck.” Shepard puts more space between them until the back of his knees hits the bed and he thunks down on it, gaze unfocused. “Why did…godamnit.”

“Shepard.” Desperation claws at his throat, feet rooted to the floor, the sensation of Shepard’s lips still there, right there.

“I need a minute,” Shepard manages. He swallows.

“Okay,” Kaidan says, trying to breathe. “Okay. I—”

“You should go.”

The words hit Kaidan like a punch to the gut.

“I…what?”

“I need to…I need you to go.”

“Shepard—”  

“Please…just leave.” He puts his head in his hands.

Kaidan stares at him, stomach in knots. “I think we should—”

Shepard’s expression twists into something cold, and he jabs a finger at the door. “Get out.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan murmurs, pulse thudding in his ears. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going.”

He takes a few numb steps toward the door. A blast of cool air hits him when it slides open. Shepard doesn’t look up.

So Kaidan walks out.  

Continue reading on Ao3