#medical references because my studies are gonna fall apart as soon as you start trying to figure out how the specific muscles work

[hjeojeo]

Trying to understand how the muscle structure works

Im getting a rough gist of it, the specifics of how each muscle relates with the other still escapes me but at least now i understand basic form!

Hopefully in time I'll understand the specifics

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[love-pyramus]

Frozen Love -Stucky x fem!reader

@flowerymoonlight​ I lied it’s stucky but it’s still soft so-

It was the middle of winter, and Steve was laying in his bed, freezing. He was shivering and couldn't seem to get warm. That's when his door opened and Bucky walked in. Without a word, Bucky laid down beside him and kept him warm through the night.

Steve and Bucky were walking around Brooklyn when they were about seven and heard scuffling coming from an alley. They went into the alley to see a young girl in a nice dress kick a guy where the sun doesn't shine and run. Bucky and Steve ran after her and when Bucky caught up to her he put a hand on her shoulder. "That was great fighting doll," Bucky says. "T-thank you." She says. "I'm Bucky Barnes. What's your name? Bucky asks. "(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n)." The girl says. "Where'd you learn to fight?" Steve asks, finally having caught up. "I live with three older brothers, I need to know how to come out on top."

(Y/n) ran through the streets of Brooklyn, not caring that her dress was stained. She just wanted to be with Bucky and Steve. She ran up to Steve's building and knocked on the door. No one answered so she moved the brick and grabbed the spare key. The door opened to reveal an empty apartment. Knowing her best friends would be there soon she closed the door and sat on a chair. She sobbed into her hands and didn't notice when the door opened. When Bucky and Steve walked into Steve's place, they didn't expect to see their best friend sitting on a chair sobbing. They tentatively walked up to her and hugged her. They noticed her dress had grass stains. "What's wrong doll?" Bucky asks. "A-Ashton, George, and Micah, they,- they-" (Y/n) couldn't continue as another round of sobs hit her. The two could gather from her reaction that her brothers, who had enlisted in the army, hadn't made it out alive. "I-I don't have anyone! Mom and dad died when I was 10, and now they're gone!" (Y/n) yelled. Her body started to shake as her sobbing continued. They pulled her off the chair and sank to the floor with her. "It's going to be ok darling." Steve murmurs. Becoming exhausted after everything (Y/n) fell asleep with Steve and Bucky holding her. They stayed on the ground holding the sleeping girl between them. They looked at each other, and realized, they were in love with each other, but also her.

They watched as (Y/n) sat at her brother's graves on their birthday, talking to them. She brought flowers with her and just sat talking to the three. Bucky and Steve kneeled beside her. "(Y/n)?" Steve asks. (Y/n) nods and they start to walk away from the graveyard. "Anyone, in particular, you carry a torch for?" (Y/n) looks a bit shocked at this question. "I-yes. Two boys. But they like each other and are in a relationship so I'm not screwing it up." (Y/n) says. "Would those two boys happen to be me and Stevie here?" Bucky asks. (Y/N) nods. "Good thing we both like you then," Bucky says.

When Bucky was captured with the Howling Commandos, (Y/n) drowned herself in the work of being a WWll nurse. She stayed in the medical tent, flitting from patient to patient, not giving her mind time to wander to her presumed dead boyfriend, Bucky. Steve, Bucky and (Y/n)'s boyfriend, went looking for him. Peggy Carter walked out to see Captain America walking with Sergeant Barnes walking next to him. "You two might want to head to the medical tent, there's someone there who I think will be very pleased to see you." She says. The two jog towards the tent and walk in. They sit down on a bench and watch as their girlfriend treats another man. "Hey doll face, how 'bout we go out for a night after this?" He asks. "No thanks," (Y/n) says, wrapping up his leg. "Why not doll face?" The man says. Bucky and Steve are getting angrier by the minute. "I'm in a relationship, and I have no desire to leave it," (Y/n) says. They can't believe how loyal their girlfriend is, even after believing one of them is dead. "What, with the dead Sergeant?" The man asks. "Just because someone is thought dead, doesn't mean they are. I think you are dead right now but here we are." (Y/n) says. She leaves the man and turns to see who her new patients are. She covers her mouth and begins to cry. She walks forward slowly and wraps Bucky gently in a hug. She guides him to one of the beds and begins cleaning his cuts. "They told me you died," (Y/n) says. "Not yet," Bucky says. "We ain't leaving you any time soon darling," Steve says.

"H-He fell off a train. I'm sorry (Y/n). It's my fault." Steve says while crying. He watches her collapse onto her knees and goes down beside her. The two hug. "It's my fault, it's my fault." Steve continues to murmur. "No, it's not. It's damn Hydra's. And we are going to make them pay." (Y/n) growls.

"At ease soldier," Fury says. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there but...we thought it best to break it to you slowly." "Break what?" Steve asks. "You've been asleep Cap. For almost 70 years." Steve looks around the city, wondering why he got to see this place yet his lovers didn't. Why he was forced to break his promise to (Y/n). "You gonna be ok?" Fury asks. "Yeah, Yeah I just...I had a date."

Steve tosses and turns in his and Bucky's shared bed as memories of his past flashed through his mind. Bucky wakes up to see his lover sweating and crying in his sleep. He gently shakes Steve's shoulder to wake him up. Steve shoots awake and hugs Bucky. Bucky runs a hand up and down Steve's back to comfort him. "Her?" Bucky asks. Steve nods. "What were the last words you two said to each other?" Bucky asks.

"Steve? Don't you dare! I can't lose you too!" (Y/n) yells. "I have to! Bucky and I will always be with you, Darling. Whether physically or mentally." Steve says over the radio. "This is a shitty way of proving it!" (Y/n) yells. "Language. I'll take you on a date soon, I promise. I love you, so much (Y/n) (L/n)." Steve says. "I love you too, Steve Rogers." "See you in another-" and Steve's connection cuts out. (Y/n) falls to her knees once again. Seven important people in her life, all ripped from her. What Steve didn't know, is that Howard Stark was planning an experiment. To freeze someone in a cryotank. "I-I volunteer for Project Winter," (Y/n) says.

"What happened to her? Is she still alive?" Bucky asks. "I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to look her up. People know about her, she has a part in the museum, but I couldn't read any of it." Steve says. "Couldn't or wouldn't?" Bucky asks. Steve remains silent. "You and (Y/n) were the one things Hydra couldn't permanently take. They erased the memories but they couldn't take the feeling." Bucky explains. "How about we look her up?" Steve asks. Bucky nods as they (Y/n) (L/n) into the search bar.

(Y/n) (L/n) was a nurse in WWII. She was dating Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. Each had their own terms of endearment for her. Barnes referring to her as doll while Rogers stuck with darling. After the death of Barnes, (L/n) found a bit of comfort in still having Rogers with her. After Rogers crashes into the ocean, (L/n) volunteers for a project later released as Project Winter. It is understandable as she lost everyone in her life, her parents Dwight and Mary when she was ten and her brothers, Ashton, George, and Micha, at age 20. She was frozen in a cryotank, as that was Project Winter. Throughout the years, the location of the tank was lost. The last place it was seen was in 1972, in the possession of Howard Stark, being moved to a safer location.

"S-She froze herself." Bucky stutters. "Tony...he might know the location," Steve says. They look at the clock and see it's nine in the morning. The two go down to Tony's lab. "Tony?" Steve says. "Rogers," Tony says. "Barnes." "Your dad had a cryotank with a woman in it, do you think you might know where it is?" Steve asks. Tony nods and makes some calls. "I'll see what I can do. I make no promises though." Tony says. A few hours later a large crate was brought into the lab. Tony brought out the cryotank and called the super soldiers down to the lab. He opened the door of the tank and they waited for the fog to clear after it was opened for the first time in about 70 years. They studied the face of the girl inside and both got a bit anxious. What if she was mad at them? They waited in the lab and made some food that Bucky's mom would always make the three. They watch the woman in the tank and their heart rates pick up as she gasps for air. Bucky and Steve both stand up and help (Y/n) out of the tank. She collapses on her knees again, not from grief, but from not moving in 70 years. Steve and Bucky go down next to her and hold her. "Hey, doll," Bucky says. "No, stop, he died he fell off the train." (Y/n) mutters. "Darling, we're here, you have to trust us," Steve says. "STOP!" (Y/n) yells. Her mind is still trying to process everything after being unfrozen. The two super soldiers look at each other. They expected (Y/n) to be mad, instead, she was frightened, sobbing, and heartbroken. "They're dead, they're dead." She whispers over and over again. Tony comes into the lab and sees the frightened woman crying on the lab floor. He approaches her slowly. "Hey, I'm Tony Stark. I think you knew my dad, Howard?" Tony asks, being gentle. (Y/n) nods. "Where-where is Howard?" (Y/n) asks. "You volunteered for Project Winter. You were frozen for about 70 years. He died years ago. Remember how you were frozen?" Tony asks. (Y/n) nods again. "The same thing happened with Steve when he crashed into the ocean. Bucky survived the fall off the train. Hydra took him and brainwashed him. He was cryo-frozen as well. They're both here, it's 2020. You are safe and your boyfriends are both alive." Tony says. (Y/n) slowly nods and Tony stands up and walks out. Steve and Bucky slowly make their way towards her and kneel next ot her, the same way they did the day she found out her brothers died. She looked up at the two men, tears clinging to her eyelashes and eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "Hey, darling," Steve says. Tears spill over as (Y/n) looks at her supposedly dead lovers. She breaks into sobs and throws herself at the two. "Hey, doll. It's ok, you're ok, we're ok. It's all ok." Bucky says. Steve broke away and grabbed the meal they made for her. "We made Bucky's ma's special recipe," Steve says. "I missed you two. I lasted two weeks before Howard froze me. He was going to do it later but I-I-I couldn't do it without you two. All the evidence said you died, even I thought you were dead." (Y/n) says. "Not yet," Bucky says. "We ain't leaving you any time soon darling," Steve says. "I love you two, both of you, so so much." (Y/n) says. "We love you too (Y/n)." The two say at the same time. The three were together again. No longer separated from each other. Their love was frozen in time along with them. They are the couple out of time.

[until-theend-oftheline]

Second Chances - Part 4: Saviors

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Hyperthermia, Innocent state of undressed, mention of surgery, wounds.    

Square Filled: Free Space (C3) for @buckybarnesbingo and Falling Through the Ice for @badthingshappenbingo

Word Count: 2800ish

A/N: This series is done for @thorne93 and heavily inspired by tow songs by The Chainsmokers which is This Feeling and Paris. Please go listen to them since even if I don’t reference them specifically they heavily decided the mood and plot of this fic.

There is no sex in this part but there will be in later parts so rating for the series is mature.

Betaed by: @jewels2876 - thank you hun!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Second Chances Masterlist

Antibes, 2016

“Doctor. Captain.” T’Challa’s voice sounded through the room and you both instantly seemed to ease up slightly. His presence was commanding as he looked between the two of you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, taking his eyes off Steve to look at you and you couldn’t seem to hold back your words, almost like a toddler tattling on her sibling to their parent.

“Captain Rogers wants to move Bucky. I don’t know where you’re going but even moving him could be dangerous and the flight is going to kill him,” you spoke quickly, before chancing a glance at Steve who seemed to be softening a little.

“Maybe staying for a while isn’t a bad idea Captain?” T’Challa also turned his attention to Steve, letting you know it was ultimately his choice what they were going to do. Bucky was Steve’s friend and T’Challa was going to follow his lead.

“How long?” Steve’s eyes met yours and you lowered the gun completely. You looked back at Bucky for a brief moment. The truth was you couldn't be sure. Had he been a normal person you wouldn’t dare move him for several days, but Bucky wasn’t normal.  

You took a deep breath before looking back at Steve, “48 hours. Maybe 24. It depends on him really and how fast he heals.”

“We’ll stay 24,” Steve agreed and T’Challa seemed to relax before giving Steve a nod.

“I’ll take the first shift,” T’Challa said before disappearing back out the door, leaving you to instantly miss him. His presence seemed to work as a buffer between you and Steve, who was once again back to watching your every move as you began changing Bucky’s bandages.

You worked in silence trying to keep your focus on Bucky and ignore the Steve staring at you. It didn’t anger you. You knew that he worried and he had no reason to trust you. You knew what your last name associated you with and Steve didn’t know you so there was no reason for him to think any different.

It was getting late so after you had finished up on Bucky, you headed into the kitchen fixing up a few sandwiches. You left one in the fridge with a note for T’Challa before grabbing the two others, along with a couple of beers, then headed back into the living room. You stopped in the doorway when you saw Steve standing at Bucky’s side, with his back turned to you. His hand was resting on the unconscious man’s shoulder as he spoke softly to him, telling him to hang in there.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, not wanting to disturb but also not wanting Steve to think you were spying on him. He turned around slowly and completely unsurprised, causing you to scold yourself. After spending two years with Bucky, you should be used to super soldier hearing by now. Of course, Steve had already known you had been standing there.

You awkwardly held out the sandwiches and beer for both of you showing them to him, “Peace offering?”

Steve suspiciously eyed food before looking back at you, “How do I know you didn’t poison them?”

Your eyes widened and you felt the anger bubble in your chest. You understood him not completely trusting you but this was getting ridiculous.

“Really? If that’s how it’s gonna be, you can starve,” you grumbled before pulling up a chair to sit down next to Bucky’s head. Your head jerked up as Steve chuckled and pulled up a chair to sit across from you.

“It was a joke Doctor,” he smiled at you for the first time and you blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

“Well you are very not funny then Captain,” you pulled a face at him, but offered a small smile anyway as you pushed the sandwich and beer towards him. At least this was progress, even if you didn't expect it to last. You had heard plenty stories of the stubbornness Steve Rogers possessed. Bucky damn well better hurry up and wake up because you weren’t sure how much longer your patience would prevent you from strangling his best friend.

You ate in silence only interrupted by a slight movement of Bucky’s hand and you instantly sprung to your feet, checking his vitals and shining a light into his eyes. You sat back down with a sigh, telling Steve slight movements were normal neural responses and didn’t mean anything.

Steve nodded and relaxed back into his chair, taking another sip of his beer as you continued watching Bucky for a while. You felt Steve’s eyes on you again but this time it didn’t bother you as much since his look was more curious this time than judgemental.

“He guided you here,” you said quietly without taking your eyes off Bucky. You felt Steve sit up a little straighter so you continued before he could put his guards up again. “Bucky is the only person in the world that would know to find me here. You’re here because he needed my help. Because this is where he wants to be. He trusts me. Do you trust him?”

You turned your eyes away from Bucky to look at Steve, who took a deep breath before he nodded.

“I do.”

“Then you can trust me too,” you promised him. “I won’t hurt him. He’s the last person in the world I would want to hurt and he loves you so you’re safe as well.” The last part you said a little more jokingly but Steve’s face didn’t shift from the serious folds he had put on.

“Why are you trying to help him?” Steve asked, studying you carefully.

“He helped me,” you paused before taking a deep breath. “And he saved my life once. It’s time I repay the favor.”

Siberia, Early 2015

The cold was like a thousand knives against your skin. You had traveled all over the world but you tended to prefer the warmer climates. It didn’t help Barnes got even more sullen than usual in the cold.

It had been six months now. Six months since Barnes showed up in your apartment. Six months since you had convinced him to take you with him in his search for answers. In a lot of ways, Barnes seemed to be doing better. His memories were slowly returning and he scribbled them all down in little notebooks to make heads and tales of them. You never asked to read them and Barnes never offered.

Just like you pretended you didn’t hear him tossing and turning in the bed across the room in a new room every night. Dirty American motel rooms had been traded for dirty Russian motels. Life on the road was rough but you were used to it. It wasn’t a big deal and you didn’t mind doing odd jobs along the way to earn some money for food and a bed. You even did a few consultations here and there, earning some food or whatever the occasional villager had to spare.

Barnes always stayed back. Maybe it was to keep watch or maybe he was sure he’d scare your patients off. He still didn’t talk much but he treated you with kindness even on his bad and more sullen days. He didn’t take his moodiness out on you but rather his surrounding. He wasn’t a bad travel companion and to be honest you admired the man.

After all, he had been through he was still incredibly kind to people, not just you but random strangers on your way. He was alert and vigilant which was to be expected and you were sure his skills had kept you out of trouble until now.

You were in Siberia. Back where it all started for Barnes and even for HYDRA there was history here. There were still smaller cells around the world trying to regain some of their lost power. It just so happened you and Barnes had managed to walk straight into one of those.

Barnes had quickly shoved you under a table to hide as he took out five agents on his own. Your jaw dropped to the floor as you watched him. You had tended to his wounds in the past. You knew the man had an impressive physique but seeing him in action like this was something else entirely.

Not until all five agents laid dead on the ground did Barnes turn to face you. He squatted down in front of the table, reaching out his hand to you.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded and was just about to take his hand when you spotted movement from the floor above you.

“Look out!” you yelled as a grenade was fired from above you. Barnes moved fast, blocking it with his metal arm but the blast was enough to send him flying through a wall and a few feet to the floor below.

“James!” you called after him, panic and fear evident in your voice. Stupidly your fear wasn’t for your own life, that was at risk from the HYDRA agent most likely fast approaching you, but for the man that laid a floor beneath you groaning as he began moving. You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched Barnes get back on his feet.

He looked up at you and waved his arm to signal you to move on. “Get out of there Doc. Now!”

That was the moment the fear for your own life took over. You sprung to your feet to see an agent fast approaching from the hall. You twirled around, sprinting down the opposite way you and Barnes had come. You had thought for nothing but to get away from the man behind you. You ran. Through halls and corridors. Past holding cells and medical rooms worse looking than the one hidden away behind the DC medbay. You ran and tried to suppress the images of Barnes being held in those. Now wasn’t the time. You needed to get away.

You sped up when you saw the light of day, hearing the man closing in on you from behind. You sprinted from the building, into the open and straight onto the ice. You realized your mistake as soon as you felt it beneath your feet but you had no choice but to continue and hope for the best.

Hope wasn’t enough as it would turn out and you felt the ground give beneath your feet and you fell just as a shot rang through the air, followed by Barnes calling out your name. His voice was the last thing you heard before the cold water swallowed you, pulling you down and making it instantly impossible for you to move. The pain was excruciating as you fought to reach the surface to little avail.

Your conscious was slipping when a metal arm broke the ice, grabbing your jacket and pulling you back onto the ice and into the safety of two strong arms.

“Hey. Hey. Are you with me?” Barnes asked, shaking you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Cold,” you stuttered and he nodded, looking around. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he kept you close, kept rubbing your arms and back trying to get a bit of warmth into you.

“I know sweetheart. I know. We can’t stay here,” he muttered. “I’m going to carry you back to the truck. We’ll find shelter somewhere. You’ll be okay.”

You closed your eyes as he lifted you off the ground and he started to run. Bucky moved fast as if you weighed nothing. He moved so fast the wind made you shiver even worse than before. You were practically blue when you finally reached the truck.

Barnes pulled the door open and lifted you into the front, before running around the car getting into the driver’s seat.

“Y/N. I have to get us out of here,” Barnes tenderly cupped your face. “Are you with me?”

“Ye...yes,” you shivered, trying to focus on the warmth from his hands.

“Good. Good. Doc, I need you to try and get your clothes off for me,” Barnes spoke softly, in great contrast to the way he put the truck into motion. He sped through the snow-covered land, as his eyes flickered back to you occasionally to make sure you were still awake. When you appeared to be struggling a little too much with a zipper or a bottom, Barnes quickly reached out to the side to help you. When you were down to your underwear, he took his eyes of the road long enough to reach into the back for two thick blankets, throwing them over you.

When you had been driving for a while, he started cranking up the heat, his eyes still flickering towards you as he took you fast and far away from the HYDRA base.

“You couldn’t have thought of that earlier?” you glared at his hand resting over the heater as your teeth continued to clatter.

“You’re the doctor. What would happen if I let you heat up too fast?” Barnes looked over at you with a smile. Clearly relieved you were feeling well enough to chastise him.

“Oh shut up. I’m cold. My brain stopped working,” you mumbled, causing Barnes to laugh and reach out to try and rub a bit of warmth into you.

“There’s an abandoned cabin a few clicks east. I noticed it on our way up here. We can stay there for the night,” Barnes promised you and you nodded. You just wanted to get inside, near a fire or possible into a warm bath.  

“I remembered something.” Barnes started talking and you knew he was trying to keep you awake.

“Yeah?” you fought to keep your eyes open looking over at him.

“I remembered falling off a train. Steve tried to catch me. He almost fell too,” Barnes looked over at you, giving you a slight shake when he noticed your eyes closed.

“I’m awake. Captain America is clumsy. Anything else?” you muttered, opening your eyes to see Barnes smiling at you as he pulled up next to an old cabin.

“No. But I realized I am done chasing the bad parts of my past. I want a life, not to stay their prisoner,” Barnes answered you as he lifted you out of the truck, making sure the blankets were securely wrapped around you as a shelter from the cold.

“That’s great James,” you muttered as Barnes lowered you down on the couch after having kicked the door open and shut behind you. He looked over his shoulder as he began lighting the fireplace.

“Don’t call me that,” he said and your eyes instantly opened wide as you realized your mistake. You hadn’t ever called him anything but Barnes or Sergeant Barnes since you realized who he was.

“Sorry. Barnes,” you corrected yourself feeling a bit foolish, but he just smiled at you as the fire caught on.

“Not that either. Bucky. My name is Bucky,” he clarified, making you smile through your shudders.

"Bucky," you repeated, tasting the word in your mouth. You liked it. It was a strange name but somehow it suited him.

Bucky frowned when he saw you still shaking. The heat from the fire and blanket wasn’t going to be enough. He stood up and started to undress without a word.

Your eyes widened. You had shared a room many times now but he usually had the decency to step into the bathroom before dressing down.

“What… what are you doing?” you asked as his pants hit the floor after his shirt, and he began moving to lay down behind you after having stripped down to his boxers.

“Body heat will warm you up quicker and safer,” Bucky explained, reaching out to gently tug the blanket you were clenching against your body. “Let me in?”

You hesitated for a moment before you let go and let Bucky tug the blankets aside, to crawl in with you. He wrapped his arms around you and you felt the heat radiating from his body start to warm up your freezing limps. You closed your eyes, pressing yourself as close to his chest as possible.

His fingers ran through your hair and he gave you a small squeeze. “You’re gonna be okay Doc. Sleep now.”

You hummed in agreement, as sleep was already overtaking you, but not before you realized something. Even in the middle of nowhere in Siberia, still fighting hyperthermia, you had never in your life felt safer or at home than you did in the arms of Bucky Barnes.

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Second Chances 

@frankiea1998 @ambientsmells @mysweetcookie99 @yes-captainstark

[dearophelia]

this one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall

come on friends, get up now, you’re not alone at all; or, one night in the intersection of Archangel and Victoria Ryder

PG, Garrus+Tori friendship, subtle Garrus/Olivia; warnings for not-remotely-researched medical stuff, and references to a past abusive relationship

"You still don't have a medic?" Victoria says as Monteague leads her into the supply closet Archangel and his crew have generously called their medbay.

Garrus looks over at her from the gurney, gingerly holding his arm very still against his chest. He's still in the bottom half of his armor, but the top half sits haphazardly - the left shoulder absolutely shattered - on the floor against the wall. "No."

She sighs and gives Monteague a subtle shove as she brushes past. Payback for interrupting the end of her date. "That's really dumb considering your line of work," she says, running her omnitool's medical scanner over his shoulder.

"I've noticed," he says, pain laced through his tight subharmonics.

Victoria closes the scanner and starts to wash her hands. "The bullet's still in there, and it's in pieces, but it missed anything important. It's gonna hurt, but you'll live. Might even have a nifty scar. Monteague, help him with his shirt and then get out."

Monteague crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because I can't see what I'm doing if there's bloody fabric in the way." She dries her hands. It was a very good date.

Though he starts to help Garrus remove his shirt, and shortly changes his plan to one involving a pair of scissors, Monteague still eyes her. "Why am I leaving?"

"Because you're the approximate build of a brick wall, this room is half the size of an elevator shaft, and you broke into my apartment."

At that, Garrus stiffens and drags his gaze over to Monteague. "You two broke in?" he says with a tone of disappointment Victoria thinks could rival the one her father used.

"And interrupted a pretty good date," she adds. That's the more important bit.

"Loitering in the hallway would've looked suspicious," Monteague defends, tugging off the last piece of fabric and tossing it into the biohazard matter recycler.

Victoria sighs, exasperated, as she looks through the supply cabinet she set up for them after the fourth time Garrus called her over. "You guys have my contact code," she says, pulling out the tools and meds she'll need.

Garrus closes his eyes, takes a breath, and opens them again. "Fix whatever you broke, give her security system an upgrade, and the next time I tell you to get Ryder, call her and ask."

For a moment, Monteague looks like he's going to argue further - it was Sensat's idea, Sensat's back there fixing it already, Ryder wasn't answering, all arguments true but falling flat against breaking in - and he wisely chooses not to. "Got it, boss. You need me for anything else?" he directs the question at Victoria.

"Check on Penny, please. Tell her I'm going to be a while."

He nods, and then leaves.

"I'm sorry about that," Garrus says as soon as the door shuts completely.

Victoria shrugs and settles her omnispecs on her face, cycling through programs until she lands on the bioscanner with a magnifier. With a tap, it syncs to the gesture control on her omnitool, and she waves the HUD away. "I added a couple black market protocols the other week, Sensat probably enjoyed the challenge." She washes her hands again before snapping on a pair of gloves.

Garrus laughs quietly, grimacing a little around the edges of it. "Thanks for coming."

"Well, you're making my walk to the clinic safer, so. Hold still." Victoria slides a needle in under his shoulder plate to numb the area. It's a weird intersection she resides in these days - Mordin, Aria, Archangel. Galatana and its shiny clean floors, its steady bright lights, its total lack of gunfire and knife fights, all seems a lifetime ago. So does that house in Indiana, and the bouquet of daisies long rotted into the dirt. Her thirteen year-old self, sleepless from studying for entrance exams, daydreaming of Presidium hospitals and pristine white lab coats, wouldn't even recognize her. Sometimes that bothers her. Tonight it doesn't. She tosses the needle into the biohazard unit and then rests against the sink, giving the anesthetic a few moments to kick in. "Should I ask whose gun you got on the wrong end of?" 

"Minor red sand dealer," Garrus says. "He's dead now, and I know who his dealer is."

"One step at a time, right?" she says, and pokes his shoulder.

He makes an irritated noise and glares at her finger.

"Did you feel that?"

He blinks. "No."

"Good. Try not to move too much." Another wave, and the HUD returns. It takes a moment to register Garrus as turian, and then all the stats in the bottom corner roll out of red and into green, and the holographic display settles over him, highlighting veins and muscle and bone, and bullet fragments. She zooms in and starts to work.

They sit in silence for a while as Victoria digs tiny pieces of a nasty hollowpoint bullet from his shoulder. She'll have to tell Mordin and Aria there's a new arms dealer in town. Each piece lands in the metal bowl with a clink.

"So, what's their name?" she asks.

"Hm?" Garrus makes a confused sound.

"The ghost you're avoiding by setting up this little medic-less operation."

His head swivels around to stare at her. "You a therapist and a surgeon?"

"No," she says idly, "just able to recognize my own brand of damage." She recognized it that night in Afterlife, even through the pounding music and flashing lights. For his sake, she's glad he seems to have put aside the rampant alcoholism he was teetering toward that night. For her sake, she's glad he remembered she was a doctor and chose her to call at 3:45 in the morning when Vorash caught a knife to the gut five months ago. Garrus pays well.

Garrus narrows his eyes. "I thought your brand of damage was the bad day," he gestures with his uninjured arm at her eye, thankfully long healed.

"I have multiple brands of damage," she says with a wry smile and gently nudges him to turn back around so she can work. "So what's their name?" she repeats.

He sighs and his rigid posture slouches a little, but not in relaxation. Defeat, maybe. "Shepard." It sounds rusty in his mouth, rough, sticking to his throat with disuse.

Victoria isn't a therapist, but she sure as hell knows pain when she hears it. And Garrus may have a hollowpoint bullet shattered in his shoulder, but she could be cleaning it out with no anesthetic and it wouldn't hurt nearly a fraction as much as Shepard does. She softens her voice. "And Shepard was...?"

"My CO. For a little while. She was," he pauses, "she was good. Really good."

A million different words he could've used, and Victoria's been around enough turians to hear what lies in the spaces in between. CO, mentor, friend. Something else, something different, something more. She doesn't call him on it, or push him to continue; they're edging a little closer toward friendship with each call, close enough she finally felt comfortable enough to ask, but they’re still dancing in that murky area between acquaintance and friend. "I'm sorry," she says.

A sad, broken noise comes from the back of his throat, and he catches it, tamps down on the broken bits, almost as soon as it happens. "She saved everyone's ass, and then they hung her out to dry. They - " he stops suddenly. His hand brushes against the armor storage compartment at his thigh. He pops it open, checks that something is still inside, and closes it again. "She died. And didn't have to. The Alliance wrote it off as another geth attack." 

The way he says geth tells Victoria exactly how highly he thinks of that particular cover story.

Her first year on Omega is a little slippery, events out of order or misremembered or not at all, but Victoria remembers the blow that cracked her skull, remembers Bray calling panicked on her omnitool, remembers hearing something from a newsstand about an Alliance ship's distress call one system over as she slid into one of Aria's skycars. Remembers a text from Mordin to be at the ready if the Alliance didn't come through the relay in the next three hours, remembers swiping it away before scrubbing in to save a krogan who'd half bled out on the floor already. 

"I'm sorry," she says again.

He nods, and she feels him pull himself back from the edge. No way in hell was Shepard just a CO.

"What's the name of your ghost?"

She drops one last fragment into the bowl. "Mom."

Silence for half a moment. "I'm sorry."

Victoria shrugs. "Omega's a great place to run away to," she muses, dodging any follow-up questions. "Tell me about her," she says after a moment.

"Who?"

"Shepard." At his stiffened shoulders, she continues. "I spent most of 2183 either in a cloud of depression so thick I couldn't see three feet in front of me, or getting the shit kicked out of me by some asshole I accidentally let into my life. I missed the attack on the Citadel and everything. Catch me up."

He shifts slightly, just enough to look over his shoulder without jostling her work. "Is this a tactic to help me ignore that your anesthetic is terrible and already wearing off?"

"Yep." She opens a suture kit.

He huffs, the smallest hint at laughter, but he starts talking. As she stitches him up, Garrus tells her about the Normandy. About Saren. About the short redhead woman who seemed to bend the universe by sheer force of will. About learning to drive a human-designed vehicle while she tried to set her own broken foot in the back, about making an idle comment about her height and getting absolutely smoked in headshots. "She was our field medic," he says, somewhere in between trying to remember the back half of a joke and telling her about the altercation with Saleon.

Victoria's long finished - he's bandaged up and she's cleaned up, even started the autoclave - and she crosses her arms. "Were you this bad at getting out of the way of bullets back then, too?" she smirks.

Sliding off the gurney, he tightens his mandibles, making a friendly irritated face at her.

Her smirk shifts into a smile, and she points at the bandage. "Leave that alone for 24 hours." She hands him a bottle of antibiotics. "One of these a day until you're done." A bottle of painkillers. "One every six hours for two days, then once a day as needed. I'll be back tomorrow to change the bandage, unless you have a medic by then,” the smile changes back into a smirk.

Garrus rolls his eyes, but takes both bottles from her. "Thank you."

Victoria nods. "You're welcome.” She pauses, and then decides maybe they’re closer to friendship than she’d been giving them credit for. “You're paying me pretty well, so I'm gonna throw this one in for free. It sounds like you and Shepard were really good friends. And I don't think she'd be too happy to see you in your shared afterlife of choice so soon. So even though I’m one bullet away from being able to get six months of super extended cable, try to duck a little more often, okay?"

Garrus laughs, a genuine honest laugh, and nods. "I'll try."