#remember how house really only took this case because wilson asked him?

[quinnmorgendorffer]

[littlelambscandyland]

Let Her Be

CG!House x Little!Autistic!Fem!Reader

Notes- Made the gal autistic because I am and couldn't stop myself from writing this, leave me alone, lol. That being said I just got my laptop working again, so I'll be working on requests again soon!

Warnings- Skin Picking (around the nails), Arguing (Cuddy and House), Hyperventilating, Panic Attacks, Non-violent biting (mentioned),

(Fun Fact the word count is 2,012 which is the same year the show ended)

It'd been 20 minutes. 20 damn minutes and no one even knew what this conversation was even about anymore. Cuddy had come to talk to House about yet another one of the man's many neglected duties. Normally it’d be a quick in and out where he’d complain, moan, and insult but eventually do, somewhat, what she asked. However, when Cuddy entered his office she noticed one of their interns off to the side. You.

You had been hired a few months back. A part-time intern for the psychiatric department. Cuddy was initially hesitant to hire you on because of your own mental disorders. You were autistic, quite ironic that you went into psychiatry. Despite her initial fear you were proven very useful and hardworking. Sometimes she felt herself feeling bad for ever thinking so wrongly of you, thinking how she played into the stigmas wrongly, but other times she feels glad she pushed those aside to hire you on.

Then again, maybe it was a mistake. Not because of you, mostly. You experienced age regression in high stress situations or for reasons Cuddy wasn’t quite aware of, and House had taken some special interest in you. He made excuses for you to work more with his team. Eventually Cuddy gave in letting you help with their cases by, essentially, being the patients temporary therapists. She gave you a raise and promoted you from intern, though most people still thought of you that way as Cuddy basically made up a position for you, just to shut House up.

The problems only really came when Cuddy noticed House having you around, almost, all the time. Noticing that unless he sent you away you were glued to his side. She also noted that you seemed more childish whenever he was around. Eventually, she realized you were regressed during these times. Of course, by realizing it was actually Wilson telling her after ranting to him about her confusion.

Now the actual problem wasn’t all of this. No. The problem was with House keeping you around all the time you weren’t able to do your actual job. You seriously couldn’t do it while in the mindscape of a five year old. It was ridiculous, so with feeling like there was nothing else to do she changed your job again. This time she made you House’s personal intern. Your new job entitles keeping him on track and mentally stable. Tieing in his need for you to be around and your degree in psychology.

Back to the present. It’s the first time Cuddy had to come and remind House of his job. The man had even been doing his clinic hours with a little less complaints. Today, though, House hadn’t been out of his office all day. According to Forman, House quickly dismissed them of any and all cases, and you’d done nothing about it.

So, here Cuddy was trying to talk to two incredibly distracted people. You wrapped up in a chair at a desk House had added just for you, and House sat opposite from Cuddy. He sparred more looks toward you than at Cuddy. Despite the “serious” talk, House just couldn’t ignore you. Sending funny faces or glances when you weren’t looking. If anyone knew any better they’d say House’s eyes were filled with adoration more than fascination.

And if anyone knew any better they’d realize they were right.

House had no idea when or why you became so important. He remembers meeting you, how kind you were. He remembers how he’d made a rude comment and you immediately shot back. He remembers how he called you out only for you to do the same to him. House remembers how you took everything he threw at you in stride. How you were so sweet and funny. How you willingly showed yourself with little doubt. He saw how sweet you were. How smart you were. How honest you were.

It was just you. Everything about you. He felt protective and calm with you. House felt like he didn’t have to mask himself around you. You openly answered anything he asked you and you told the truth. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were an age regressor. House knew that you wouldn’t hide that part of yourself from him as long as he asked, so he did. House confronted you the way he does everyone, bluntly. You answered him with slight embarrassment, but openly you answered with kindness towards his curiosity. 

Ever since he confronted you on it you’ve been completely responsive to every push he’s given. House can’t explain why but when you willingly started regressing around him he’d gotten so happy that he couldn’t help but coddle you. Even he found it odd how you became so special. A simple fascination turned to admiration. He saw you as a new extension of himself. Not because of how physically young you were to him, but because of how mentally young you could be. Even out of regression you had a positive childish view on things, and House was begging to protect that. He knows how rare a girl like you is. He felt even more proud when you asked him to be your caretaker when you regress. He felt even more proud than that when Cuddy transferred you to a new position as his “personal intern”. He liked spending his days with you. He liked how you needed him.

Now he sat looking at you. Eyes filled with boredom that changes to love whenever he looks towards you. You sat at a colorful deskright across from him. Eyes interchanging between a screen, Dr.Cuddy, and House. Sweet distractions and an inability to hear whatever the two of you are being told. Thick irritation unable to crush your five year old wonder.

You remember asking House if he was alright with having you around so often. You knew how it could be being stuck with someone unwillingly. You remember him telling you to shut up and if he didn’t want you around you’d be gone by now. You remember making him smile genuinely, not a sarcastic cocky one. You remember him questioning everything about you like an intense interview. You remember the smile that he tried to hide in pride when you asked him to be your caretaker.

You moved as gracefully as you could with the new changes thrown at you. You acted with stability and a mask that could be unbreakable. Yet. Anytime you were with House, alone, you dropped the mask and he did too. Two people completely real with who they’re supposed to be, if only for a short time. He saw you in a way most people didn’t. He didn’t doubt you because of your disorder. House became, so quickly, such an important part of your life. Platonically, you loved him and he loved you. Neither of you would admit it, but even when you weren’t regressed you saw him as a father figure. Someone who is actually there, who actually cares about you.

So, here you sat at your desk. The mindset of a child as you did your best to do your damn job. Cuddy scolding you and House simultaneously. Her words work too quickly in a tone you didn’t enjoy so you took in kind the silly looks and glances from House. You “worked” on the small computer in front of you. An open document with random words or phrases you’ve typed out being the only “work” related thing open. All your tabs have games or silly videos on them. Despite your current age you did try to listen to Cuddy, it was just so hard.

Cuddy stopped her rant midway through a sentence. A look of annoyance played in her eyes. She looks over to House who is once again making faces at you, and she looks at you trying your best to suppress your giggles.

“Will you pay attention, damnit.” Cuddy exclaims in frustration.

The sudden exclamation made you stiffen. You immediately shot your eyes to your lap, afraid Cuddy would turn her glare to you.

“Hey!” House shouts out just as quickly. “Watch your tone in front of the kid.” He says with a bit of a tease.

Cuddy bit at her words for a moment. Gapping for only a few seconds while looking between you and House. Finding her words she finally speaks again. “She shouldn’t be a child right now!”

“Well, maybe we should be more accommodating.” House argues, playfully.

“House this is serious. I won't have a reason to keep her working here if she isn’t actually working.” Cuddy replies.

“She is working.” He shakes his head. “She keeps me on track.” He says matter-of-a-factly.

Cuddy narrows her eyes at him. “Not today she isn’t. Today she is the biggest distraction you’ve ever seemed to have. Today you haven’t even taken on a new case!”

Their conversation continues. A bickering background as your mind takes in the overall statement “I’m a burden”. Of course, that wasn’t what Cuddy was trying to say. That doesn't mean that wasn’t the message coming across to you.

Your hands shook as you started to pick at the skin around your nails. Your eyes blurred, not with tears, but because of your ragged breaths. You picked and tore at the flesh. The red didn’t really bother you as you continued to rip at your fingers.

Suddenly House was moving across his office.

“What are you doing?” Cuddy questions before her eyes land on you.

“Will you shut up for like five minutes?” House answers with a voice filled with indignation.

House is near you in seconds. He takes your shaking hands in his and holds them tightly. He tries to guide you. Keyword tries.

“Alright well this isn’t working.” He says to no one in particular.

He pulls you out of your chair and to the couch, sits you in between his legs, and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly and says something to Cuddy you can’t quite hear between your own heart beats. Something about not telling anyone something, something.

“Tell me what you need.” He commands.

You shake your head feverishly. You’re pulling his arms more and pushing your back against him.

“Alright, alright.” He says.

One hand goes to your head and his other goes to your legs. He repositions you until your face is shoved into his shoulder. A few more minutes of pushing and pulling, and a bit of biting from your side. Finally you're calm enough for him to get an answer from you.

“What happened?” He asks bluntly.

“burden…” You say, your voice lowly.

“You're not a burden..” House replies quickly.

“That’s what this was about?” Cuddy asked dumbfounded.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re still here?” House asks.

She huffs at him before beginning to walk out.

“Next time watch your mouth in front of the kid!” He calls out to her.

House turns his attention back to you. Your mouth latched onto the collar of his coat and you were lightly chewing on it. 

“What’re you a gerbil? Get that out of your mouth.” He says taking his collar from you. “You know how many germs may be on this thing?” He teases.

“sorry…” You whisper.

He snorts. “No you’re not.”

His response pulls a small giggle from you.

“Hey,” He nudges you. “You’re not a burden. You hear me?” House looks into your eyes.

You nod your head.

“Good. Because if that was your takeaway of the conversation we need to teach you more on reading a room.” He tells you condescendingly. “Because I,” He emphasizes. “Don’t think of you as anything other than my kid.”

The way your eyes lit up at his words made House’s heart swell. If humans were actually made of stardust, House could’ve sworn all of your stardust was in your eyes. A moment of peace after what felt so intense.

Thankfully House didn’t see Wilson standing outside his office watching as, what he called, “House makes progress”.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

salad ur so awesome can i pls request a little!chase fic with cg!wilson and cg!house? thank u 🙏 appreciate u

I had a lot of fun with this one! Sorry it took so long haha, I have like 8 fic requests pending 0-0

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Word Count: 2517

Summery: Chase is having a regressed sleepover at House and Wilson's apartment! There's just one problem, he's having a hard time regressing at all.

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After graduating high school, Chase had expected his sleepover days to be over. But now there he stood, outside of his boss’s apartment of all places with a duffle bag of colourful pyjamas, a variety of clothes, his favourite blanket, and his stuffed puppy, Bosco; afraid to knock in case this had really been an elaborate joke at his expense all along.

The offer felt more out of the blue than it probably was. House and Wilson had looked after him multiple times while he was regressed, both at their apartment and, rather embarrassingly, at work, but this felt different. More intrusive, like he was forcing them to take care of him even though it was Wilson who invited him in the first place. The plan was pretty straightforward; Chase would regress and spend the night at their place, doing child things like watching movies and playing with toys and having pancakes for breakfast or something while House and Wilson watched him, and then he’d go home the next day when he was big. If he even stayed regressed that long.

But of course, to do all that he actually had to buck up and knock. He took a deep breath and politely tapped on the door. No one answered at first, and for a second he was worried that he’d misheard the time they’d told him somehow and they were out, but after a few seconds there were footsteps on the other side and the door opened.

“Chase! Right on time, come on in.” Wilson greeted, motioning for him to enter. “You can put your jacket on the hook there.” He did, then toed off his shoes and tucked them neatly by the rack.

“Oh come on, where’s your cute little kangaroo shirt?” House called from the couch.

He glanced down at his plain white T-shirt. He’d considered wearing his little clothes before he left, but decided not to because what if they thought that was weird? He didn’t want to rush it, but maybe that was the wrong choice? “Um… It’s in my bag, I just thought I’d wear my normal stuff for now.”

“Did you not want to get started right away?” Wilson asked, “That’s okay, we can—“

“No, no, it’s fine!” He assured quickly, “I-I just meant for the drive here, I can change if you want.”

They both gave him a considering look that made his cheeks burn. God, could this be more awkward? Wilson nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. You remember where the—?”

“Down the hall, first door. I’ll be right back.” He said quickly, and made his escape to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and let out a breath. Just relax, mate! They invited you here, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. He changed into the kangaroo shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, and stared at himself in the mirror. House had gifted him the shirt awhile ago; it was white with a red collar and sleeves, and had a big picture of a boxing cartoon kangaroo on the front. Apparently he had ordered it off some website, and it showed; it was hideous, but somehow it was still the shirt he wore most often when he was small. But he wasn’t small yet, and he felt a bit silly standing there.

He crammed his old clothes back into the bag and left the bathroom, only to be met with the dramatic cooing of House.

“Aww, there he is! Don’t you just wanna pinch his cheeks, Wilson?”

Chase rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Where should I put my bag?”

Wilson motioned vaguely at the floor. “Anywhere is fine. We’ll get out the pull-out couch when it’s time for bed tonight.”

“Sure.” He dropped his bag out of the way next to the couch, and then… stood there. Now what? “So…” He started, “How’s this gonna work?”

“We’ve got the box of toys out if you want, we can put on a movie, anything you need to help you regress, and then we’ll look after you from there. We were thinking of ordering a pizza for dinner. Is that okay?” Wilson pointed out the “little box” in the corner, filled with an ever-growing supply of toys, stuffies, books, and art supplies.

“Yeah, that sounds great, um…” There was still one worry that had been nagging at him ever since he’d gotten the invitation. “What if I… can’t regress?”

There was always a chance that even with all of the toys and coddling words in the world, he just wouldn’t be able to be little or stay little. It was a fickle thing. If his regression was triggered then he could never seem to pull himself out it, but when it was his choice he usually couldn’t manage to stay small for more than a few hours without help. And if he couldn’t regress, then what was the point of being there in the first place?

Wilson considered it. “Well, if it comes down to that then you can still stay over if you want. We can just put on the game and have a drink. Whatever happens is okay either way.”

“No, we were going to exile you from the apartment if your brain didn’t decide to play ball,” House snarked. “Wilson’s right, Robbie. Now you can stop standing there like we’re going to jump you and go play. I promise, I won’t bite.”

Robbie. The nervousness soothed a bit, enough for him to walk over to the bin and start sifting through it for something to do. He landed on a farm animal colouring book and a ziplock bag of markers, something easy. A few of the pages had already been filled in, some by him, one by Foreman and a couple by Cameron, each with a distinct “style”. He chuckled to himself. Even Foreman’s colouring pages were stuffy and professional. He flipped to a blank page of a field of cows and started to colour.

He worked at the page for awhile, hoping that eventually the fuzzy feeling would creep in and the his colouring would start drifting outside the lines, but after nearly thirty minutes of colouring, he still wasn’t getting anywhere. Thankfully, House and Wilson didn’t seem fussed either way about what he was doing; Wilson was milling around in the kitchen and House was distracted by his Gameboy, but the silent expectation that he was supposed to be small right now hovered uncomfortably over his head.

He sat up and tossed down the marker he was holding. This should be easier.

House glanced up at him. “Age check?”

“Still twenty-eight.” He grumbled. “This isn’t working.”

“Would it help if I… played with you? Wilson tells me I do a great stuffed-bear voice.”

He still wasn’t used to House trying to be genuinely helpful. “Um… No, I don’t think I could do it, it’s too weird unless I’m small, y’know? But uh, thanks.” Though, the idea of House doing a squeaky pretend-voice was funny to think about. Maybe he’d get to see it later.

House shrugged. “Well, I tried. Wilson!” He called, and Wilson appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel.

“Having trouble regressing?” He asked, “I’ve been listening.”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I dunno, it’s hard to just do it on command. I’m barely even fuzzy.”

“Would you like me to help you?”

“I guess so. I haven’t got any ideas, help away.” He wasn’t exactly sure what Wilson could do that a box of everything I kid could want couldn’t, but anything was worth a try.

Wilson smiled. “And how do we ask?” He prompted gently, and instantly Chase’s face burned. Right to it then.

“Can you help, please?” The smallest hint of fuzz prodded at the edges of his brain.

“Of course. Come on,” He motioned for him to come to the kitchen and after a nod from House, he got up and followed. Wilson bent down to one of the cabinets and began pushing around a bunch of coil-bound books and loose papers. Eventually he found what he was looking for and held up a battered piece of paper victoriously.

“I was thinking we could bake some cookies for after dinner tonight. Do you want to help?”

“Sure. What kind are they?” He asked, rocking onto his toes to get a better look at the recipe.

“Chocolate chip. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, House and I have them all the time.” Wilson put the recipe on the counter and pointed to each ingredient, reading them out. “Could you get me the flour, the sugar, and the baking soda for me? They’re in that cupboard over there, and I’ll get the rest.”

“Yep.” He went on his mission for dry ingredients, scouring the disorganized pantry.

“Remember to use both hands on the flour and sugar, buddy. They’re heavy!” Wilson reminded, and the fuzziness flared again. He knew that.

“Mhm.”

Once they had gathered all of the ingredients, he stood patiently for his next task as Wilson pulled out bowls and measuring tools. House shuffled in and sat down at the dining table.

“Are you gonna help, House?” He asked.

Wilson snorted. “House is a terrible helper, we’re not letting him help.” 

-

“Here, you can do the vanilla.” 

Chase took the bottle Wilson handed to him and carefully poured it into the little measuring spoon, then poured it in.

“Good job buddy, that’s great.” Wilson praised, and he couldn’t help the bashful grin that crept onto his face. He was definietly fuzzy now; not small all the way, but close. Wilson hand-holding him through the steps and giving him small praises for mixing and measuring ingredients made him feel just like a little kid learning to bake for the first time. He supposed he kind of was. He hadn’t baked with either of his parents as an actual kid, and rarely bothered to as an adult, so it was nice to know he was doing a good job and being helpful.

Wilson handed him the spatula. “And now we stir.”

He stirred the batter until the stripes of vanilla disappeared, Wilson added the chocolate chips, and he stirred again. Once the chocolate chips were properly distributed, he presented the bowl to Wilson. “Look good?”

Wilson nodded in approval. “Perfect. Now we use spoons to put the batter on a baking sheet, and we bake them for 12 minutes.” He said, grabbing two spoons to demonstrate.

Chase took over, trying to make the scoops as perfect as possible, and then Wilson put them in the oven because it wasn’t safe for a kid to do it by themselves.

“Okay, now while we wait let’s clean up. Can you put away the ingredients, Robbie? I’ll get started on the dishes.” Wilson began filling the sink with soapy water and dropping in measuring spoons. 

House stopped him before he could submerge the mixing bowl. “Hey, hey! Save me the spatula, it’s got perfectly good cookie dough on it!” 

Wilson looked right at him as he dropped the spatula into the water, and Chase chuckled. “Cookie dough is for helpers.”

Chase held out the box of baking soda for House to take. “You can help clean up! There’s some cookie dough in the bowl still.” He offered, but House didn’t seem too interested in his proposal.

“I don’t want it that bad. Besides, you two are doing such a good job, I wouldn’t want to get in the way.” He held up his hands.

Chase shrugged and put the baking soda back by himself, and grabbed the carton of milk to put back in the fridge. “Okay. More cookie dough for me then—“ 

His grip on the milk faltered. He gasped as it fell from his hand and splashed to the ground, spilling all over the floor. He heard Wilson curse behind him and start rushing around for something to mop it up, but Chase stood frozen and watched the growing puddle soak into his socks. He was just trying to help and now Wilson and House were gonna be so mad at him. 

House clicked his tongue. “Maybe next time, we use both hands to carry things.”

That was the last push he needed for his headspace to come crashing down all at once. Suddenly he was five years old, tears were welling up in his eyes, and he was panicking. He was in so much trouble. It was an accident, he really didn’t mean to drop it, but now he’d made a mess and ruined everything! 

“Robbie.”

Were they still gonna want to watch him? Would he have to go home? 

“Robbie, come here, let Wilson mop it up.” House gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the pool of milk. His socks squelched beneath his feet, cold and wet, and he let out a little sob.

“M’sorry, I-I didn’t mean to I—“

“Relax, we know. It’s fine.” House said. He sounded like he meant it, but Chase knew he was still angry because that’s how it always worked with adults. They said they weren’t mad when they really were, and then they yelled at you later. 

“I didn’t m-mean to drop it, m’really sorry!” He cried, “I was ju-just trying to he-elp…”

House let out a long breath, then to his surprise, pulled him into a hug and started awkwardly patting his back. “Okay, okay… You’re fine.”

Chase gripped onto House’s shirt, trying to take a deep breath. He shouldn’t be crying, he should be helping Wilson clean up his mess. 

“Well, he’s little now.”

“House.” Wilson chided.

House tried to pull away from him, and he clung tighter. He didn’t wanna be in trouble.

“Forget wombat, I think koala might’ve been a better nickname for you. Is this an Australian thing, or just you?” 

Hey! He was not a koala. Chase pouted as House gently peeled him off, and he clumsily wiped the tears off his face and glued his eyes to the floor. His stomach felt swirly with guilt.

Wilson bent down in front of him, expression soft and calm. “Robbie, look,” He pointed to where the puddle of milk used to be. The floor was clean, like nothing ever happened. “No more spill, see? All fixed.”

He sniffled. “But… the milk?”

“It was almost expired anyway, we can always get more.”

Maybe it wasn't so bad then. “…Okay. Can I… have a hug, please?” He hesitantly held out his arms.

“Sure, buddy.” Wilson wrapped him in his arms and squeezed tightly. Wilson gave good hugs. If there was a worlds-best-hugger competition, Wilson would win, he thought. “Are we ready to order pizza now?”

Pizza sounded good. The smell of the cookies in the oven were already making him hungry. “Yeah! Can we get cheese?”

“Just cheese? You don’t want anything else?” Wilson asked.

“Nope!” 

“I agree with the kid, cheese is objectively superior.” House agreed, setting a hand on his shoulder. “The council demands plain cheese pizza.”

Wilson sighed, exasperated, and pulled out his phone. “I can’t believe there’s two of you now…”

[cherryclxud]

trial post ...

this is trial fic really, the story by Marcus Bradford is quite literally 'the abominable bride' episode from the BBC sherlock so its not mine.

this is a sherlock holmes (enola holmes) x bridgerton!reader.

MARCUS BRADFORD WAS AN EXTRAORDINARY WRITER. He wrote books of fantasy, romance, and tragedies. But anyone who has read Bradford’s works will tell you his prized works were that of the thrilling crimes series that would be posted on the weekly newspapers on page 4. Yes, no one could deny that this was the reason he was the talk of the ton. Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, Marcus Bradford’s words made it into every household in London, whispers about the crimes written were on the tongue of the fanatics every passing day, 

“Did you read what this man has written?”

“Did you see where he left this week's edition off?”

“How can the bride return when she so clearly shot her brains out in front of a whole street?”

“She returned and killed her husband then was found back at the morgue?”

It was a story where no one could see a true way to solve it, and so it kept everyone on the edge of their seat, that is…everyone but one.

Sherlock Holmes hated Marcus Bradford, and he hated his work. He was never a fan of fiction since fiction wasn't real and wasn't deducible, therefore he was never actually interested in anything this man was writing, but when all the clients asking for help seemingly came to him complaining that they wanted him to solve a fictional case written in a newspaper, that's when he would pick up the story to read and wasn't able to put it down till he had finished the latest edition of it. Two thoughts running through Sherlock Holmes’ head after putting the paper down, he hated fiction, and he hated Marcus Bradford.

The story was impossible to deduce anything out of, how could someone dead return? The bride quite clearly can't be who murdered her husband however the story clearly states that the husband had recognised her before his death. But she was in the mourge, how could the bride be in 2 places at once? How could she then continue to kill countless men after her funeral? Sherlock felt there were too many open ends and loose threads. Threads that only one person knew the ends of. Marcus Bradford.

But no one knew who Bradford was, no one had seen him before, in fact, he had never attended any soirees nor had any presence in the ton that anyone knew of. This opened a new case for Sherlock. Who is Marcus Bradford?

No one in the ton knew that Marcus Bradford was always under their noses.

In the prestigious house of the Bridgertons, y/n Bridgerton picked at the strings of her violin with a sigh. Mrs Wilson walked into the drawing room with the weekly news and a copy of today's Lady Whstledown, y/n watched as her younger sister Eloise snatched this week's paper out of the head maid's hands and quickly skipped to page 4, with an eye roll, y/n took the gossip sheet from Mrs Wilsons hand thanking her before pretending to skim over the paper. In truth y/n wasn't interested in the words of Lady Whistledown, she only ever tried to look out to see if ���Marcus’ was ever mentioned. He was not. She dropped the sheet on the table before standing at the window and looking out.

“Can you believe it, another one?” Eloise spoke up not tearing her eyes from the sheet. Looking back at Eloise, y/n feigned confusion “Hmm, sorry what was that?

Eloise dropped the paper on her lap and looked blankly at the ceiling “Another man was murdered, all because the yard can't solve the case”

y/n picked the paper from Eloise and pretended to skim over it while hiding her smile, “Oh Eloise don't tell me you are going on about this stupid little story again, why not go read something more useful? Or try looking into who Lady Whisteldown is again, you loved that remember? This story doesn't seem to be doing anyone any good, and the writer seems to have hit a wall don't you think?”

Instantly Eloise turned her head to y/n  and stood up walking to her, “no you don't get it, sister,” she snatched the paper from the elder girls hands and pointed to a line “See here it's different ‘The man’s face paled as he looked at the contents of the envelope, turning it over, four orange pips dropped unto the table’ see sister it’s strange, this man got a warning the others didn't. Something big must be coming y/n, something different.” she quickly took the paper and ran up to her room leaving y/n looking behind her.

In truth y/n was out of inspiration. Writing under the pen name Marcus Bradford, she had made quite the name for him, but she thought, perhaps she had gone too strong with the opening and now she was crashing, the seeds in the envelope was her quite literally reaching for straws at this point, trying to buy herself time hoping that some grand idea will hit her. 

She was happy with all the attention her writing was gaining even if it was under a false name. She knew her stories would have gotten nowhere otherwise. She also knew that she couldnt keep writing forever, no matter how much she loved it. Her mother was on her back about missing many balls since her debut last year and that since Eloise’s debut this year, it’s harder taking care of two girls at once, especially two girls who cared more about books than looking to the men right in front of them. 

It wasn't like y/n was not interested in romance at all, rather, she was actually quite the romantic, but she found no interest in the advances of the men of the ton, in fact she always compared the whole process to a birds mating ritual, all the dancing, and the reciting of poetry and the hundreds of flower bouquets and colours. no, she much preferred the romance on the paper she read, and quite often found herself daydreaming about the books she had read, maybe one day a pirate would take her to go treasure hunting together. Or maybe a past childhood friend she doesn't remember will profess his undying love to her and how he never forgot her all these years.

y/n scoffed at the thoughts she was having, “Maybe all I need is a change of perspective and scenery…I assume a ball will have to do then” She rolled her eyes before standing and going to look for her mother's whereabouts. 

[lazyrants]

Sportscandy Festival (prod 132)

Original airdate: May 16, 2006

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Cole Louie, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Jonathan Judge

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess

I am looking forward to this episode - I don’t have much memories of what my first thoughts on it were, but I do remember enjoying it pretty much. The first three paragraphs of this were written at school so no snitching!!!

The episode begins with a recycled cold open from ‘Dr. Rottenstein’. This is too cool to ignore. Sportacus throws a melon into the air, does a handstand on the watermelon, and then catches it while doing the power jump. Then he EATS IT. The improper but super cool way to do stuff.

Stephanie is under an apple tree in this super cool jumper (I’d wear it if it was for boys, and blue), trying to figure out how to get it out from under there, when Sportacus comes to her rescue, telling her to close her eyes, holding out her hands. Then he does a flying backflip kick, and in Steph’s hands is an apple. 

Ziggy comes after the scene, asking if Stephanie thinks that if he kicks the same tree, a lollipop would fall out. Then when she leaves, he kicks the tree.. and a l..

eave falls out. Some day, he convinces himself. The boring Robbie Rotten looks through his periscope knowing he is going to see the thing he hates most only to see the thing he hates most - kids. In this case, it is valid, because STINGY is bragging about his saving to Pixel. Which makes no sense, because you’d have to be in trouble to be saved, so why would he be bragging about being in trouble?

But, he was not really in trouble. His possession (a literal kite) was. So I guess it’s a bit braggable. Pixel talks about his saving, then Stephanie comes to talk about how Sportacus gave her an apple. They ultimately decide that since Sportacus is so nice to them that they should give him something nice. Robbie CAN’T watch.

Then he watches.

Idiot.

The kids decide to think about what Sportacus likes.

Randomly doing backflips? Playing with his food? No - sports candy. Then comes the idea of a SportsCandy festival. (LOL, they said the name of the episode in the episode). And then comes Sportacus (startling Robbie..). Ziggy starts going on excitedly about how much Sportacus likes sportscandy, and he agrees. Then he calms down with a nudge from Pinky, asking which one’s are ‘his favourite, let’s say?’

He likes them all.  Liar. Watermelons are terrible. Anyways, he asks why they want to know and Ziggy almost gives it away and Stephanie smacks his… mouth, asking if he’s occupied at 5 P.M. 

But, does it matter? It’s almost always sunny in LazyTown. They then assign themselves some sportscandy, then they go and look for more Sportscandy for the festival.  But Stingy stops them, in fear the ‘dirty dirt’ (he has a point) will RUIN his clothes. So they have to go back to their houses and change their clothes. Meanwhile, Robbie is disgusted, questioning what the world has come to. 

Eighteen years (since this episode aired), and that’s actually a good question. So, he decides to go and think of a plan somewhere else (will the location matter? I love this show but the characters need to think more.), but his periscope’s handle stops him.

He lifts it up and chuckles at it. So funny and I don’t even know why - that’s how you know they’re a great actor - the script’s not very funny (I’m joking, LazyTown is ALMOST always funny) and they make it funny! Anyways, Robbie realizes that if he took all the Sportscandy away, the kids'd have no energy to run the festival, but he doesn't know how he'd swipe the vegetables.

Then he looks behind them and gets into the carrot costume. Really stupid plan because the LazyTowners are smart enough to know carrots don't have faces. Meanwhile, Sportacus has finished off a game of soccer and has his Sportacus Club Special - A REGULAR SANDWHICH WITH TOMATOES AND LETTUCE. Put some sauce on that thing, my brudda.

So, anyways, while Robbie is sneaking around town, the kids perform Good Stuff. The song ends and Robbie sees that Ziggy is trying to make a carrocket (carrot rocket). So he pops up behind him when Ziggy says he needs a bigger carrot. In a homage to 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas', Ziggy stutters the words 'giant carrot' until Robbie tells him to 'spit it out!'

Then he says 'boo' in the least scariest way he can. Ziggy runs away. I know that Ziggy may be the youngest LazyTowner but that's no excuse for him to believe Robbie's ridiculous costume. No food has a face! Anyways, Robbie takes the box of carrots and the crystal beeps. Sportacus puts down his boring sandwich (as he should've done after ONE bite, but that'd be a waste).

He jumps into town and cartwheels his way over to a running Ziggy. If I was Sportacus I would tell him that there is nothing there and that if you see a person with dodgy clothing it's Robbie and his latest scheme.

But, I ain't no slightly above-average superhero - so Ziggy tells him everything and he checks it out. Ziggy decides to stay so he can curl into a ball and cry, but he says he's just going to see if the carrot comes back. But that isn't happening. Robbie has just dumped the carrots into the net that he just found (Surely someone must've got that reference), tying the net to a rope and tying the rope to 6000 KGs worth of metal. Meanwhile, Sportacus is looking around for the carrot.

But he won't be coming back again as his next target is Stephanie, who is making an apple tower. (WOAH, APPLE TOW-ER!) She reaches for another apple, and boy does she get one!

I thought Stephanie was smart enough to realize that isn't a real giant apple as giant apples don't exist and if they did they wouldn't have faces, but I was wrong. So, Sportacus' crystal beeps and he flips over to a hiding Stephanie.

If I was Sportacus I would tell her that there is nothing there and that if you see a person with dodgy clothing it's Robbie and his latest scheme. But, I ain't no slightly above-average superhero - so Stephanie tells him everything and he checks it out with Stephanie. Meanwhile, When they get to the tree the apple was at. But that isn't happening. Robbie has just THROWN the apples into the net that he just found (Surely someone must've got that reference THAT TIME), tying the net to a rope and tying the rope to 6000 KGs worth of metal.

Meanwhile, Ziggy is still hiding, walking backwards and so is Stephanie. Then they bump into each other, screaming and running. Then Stephanie realizes the short ice-cream haired boy isn't a giant carrot, so they hide and Stephanie puts her arms around Ziggy.

This season is constantly fueling the Stephaziggy shippers. Sportacus is still looking around, but Robbie is already in the banana costume. Ziggy and Stingy have made a banana ship.. and it sinks. Then Pixel spots the giant banana on the couch, who scares them.

Come on, he isn't even YELLING boo, he just says it normally! Anyways the kids run away yelling 'giant banana', so the other kids run away yelling giant banana. Crystal beeps once again. While Sporty's going after the kids, the banana gathers up it's (probably smarter) brothers.

Robbie is just about to throw the bananas into the net, when he steps on a skateboard and Sportacus saves him with a throwing ring so he jumps off the skateboard. Sportacus falls for three carrots and they land into his tennis racket. Sportacus throws them at the banana, pinning him against the wall.

And for NO absolute reason, Robbie falls down out of the banana peel, and Sportacus asks if he is okay. But he doesn't recognize it's Robbie until the kids come! So, Robbie tries to change the subject by using a banana as his phone. The kids apologize and tell Sportacus about the festival and how they can't do it because they have no sportscandy. Cue in Ziggy.

He unties the rope, flying in the air and getting stopped by a tree, and the Sportscandy net comes flying down. Sportacus catches both these things. So, in celebration they have their sportscandy, like NOTHING happened, they sing Bing Bang. In the lair, Robbie sits on a carrot, throws it away and it bounces on the wall. He blocks his face with a plate, then says he knew vegetables were dangerous before dropping the plate on the floor.

5/10 - The dumbness of the LazyTowners made it kinda hard to watch. There were a few funny parts here and there.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Problems With The Heart

Greg House x Dr Anna Harding (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 21 - Surgery

I finally finished up the rest of the filing and stretched my neck, reaching the nurse’s station.

‘That’s it, I’m done for the day.’ I said to Sophia who was just starting her shift.

‘You want me to check them for you?’ She said with a raised eyebrow, making me laugh.

‘Probably a good idea.’ I admitted. ‘One week and I will be back with a brand new shoulder.’

‘Well good luck, we’re all rooting for you.’ Sophia took the files and I still didn’t leave.

‘Call if it’s urgent.’ I reminded her. ‘I can consult from home.’

‘We’re under strict orders not to call for any reason.’ Sophia grinned, but I didn’t get it.

‘Cuddy?’ I guessed, frowning.

‘Dr House.’ She said, making my heart drop. ‘He said he’d be around to take any case that comes in, he’d do the filing, the paperwork, everything.’

‘And you believed him?’ I smirked, surely she hadn’t fallen for that.

‘I asked him why he was doing it and he said because it was the least he could do.’ That was unexpected. ‘What’s going on? You two back together?’

I shook my head, no longer interested in the conversation. I headed straight for the lift and with everything I could, I resisted the temptation to go to House’s office.

Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to avoid him completely. He was waiting for me in the lobby.

‘I just had the most awesome case with a priest.’ He said, trying not to say anything too heavy. ‘The preachy God part sucked, but he was a paedophile, then he wasn’t, then he had aids, then he didn’t. It was cool.’

I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded and went to walk past him, but I could hear the sounds of his cane catching up to me in the car park.

‘Why are you following me?’ I turned around just as we reached my car.

‘Because I wanna talk to you about your surgery tomorrow.’ He said it plainly and simply.

‘Really?’ I folded my arms, hating the fact that it was snowing.

‘It’ll be two hours long, they’ll go in remove the shrapnel that is about to start causing real problems and then recovery will take a relatively short amount of time with physiotherapy lasting for up to six months.’ He said it like he was talking to a medical student and I suddenly remembered Wilson’s words.

‘Why did you put yourself on call for my department?’ I asked, not wanting to play games.

‘I figured you’d want someone competent to make sure it runs smoothly while you’re recovering.’

‘I have other doctors in my department who could do that.’ I countered.

‘They might make a mistake.’

‘And you won’t?’ It was only then that I realised I was crying.

‘I won’t make a mistake.’ He said, seriously. ‘I’ll follow protocol, I’ll file and do the paperwork.’

‘But why?’ I was getting frustrated.

‘Because you’re terrified and I want to help.’

Wilson was right, he really didn’t know how to process any of this.

‘House, I am scared that I am going to be put under and not wake up.’ I explained. ‘It is a rational fear to have and stranger things have happened. I don’t need someone to help with what happens afterwards, I need someone to help me get into the OR feeling optimistic.’

It was like talking in a foreign language. I gave up, it just wasn’t worth it anymore. I went to get my keys out of my bag to unlock my car.

‘I can do that.’ He said, quietly, but loud enough for me to hear.

‘It’s not your job-‘

‘I know.’ He cut me off. ‘It’s also not my job to take over your patients, but… I want to do it.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘No, you’re right I don’t!’ He snapped, catching the attention of a few people around us. ‘I don’t want to deal with paperwork or boring cases like evident heart disease in obese idiots. But I want you to love me again!’ He seemed to run out of patience and I didn’t know what to do. ‘I don’t know how to do this. You have to show me how to do this.’ I thought he might have cried. ‘Please.’

I honestly didn’t know what to do. ‘I didn’t stop loving you.’ I nodded, feeling my cheeks burn with the tears that had already fallen. ‘I just…’

‘What?’ House took a step toward me and I both couldn’t stand being so close and hated he was still so far away.

‘I just didn’t think I’d miss you so much.’ I confessed. ‘We’re not warm and fuzzy people, we’re practical and rational and that has worked for us, but you wanted to change the terms of that agreement and I still don’t know what it is you really want.’

‘I want you.’ He tried to say it like it was obvious.

‘Beyond that. What do you want?’

‘Why does there have to be a beyond?’ He said, frustrated. ‘Why can’t this be it?’ I didn’t know how to answer. ‘What do you want?’

That was the magic phrase to make me start to cry a little more. ‘God, Greg, I want to go home. I want to sleep. I don’t want to be in pain anymore and I don’t want to feel like I’m some poor broken soldier. I want to have a real life where I can do the things that make me happy. I just want to sleep again.’

I took a long moment to breathe and stop crying, looking anywhere that wasn’t at him and wiping away my tears.

‘Sleep with me.’ He said and I just looked at him, not being able to believe he just said that. ‘I don’t mean like that.’ He corrected himself. ‘I mean actually sleep in a bed with me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you sleep better when I’m there.’ He gave a half smile and I was once again getting sucked in by those eyes. ‘You should get some rest before the surgery and you should use whatever means necessary to do that.’

‘You’re saying I should use you.’

‘I’m saying I’m volunteering to help.’ He sighed. ‘In whatever way I can.’

There was something in his expression that told me if I refused him now then I’d never have a chance to find out what he really wanted with me, what future he saw. I reasoned with myself that the full nights sleep would do me good and maybe I should be selfish for a while.

I drove us both to my place in silence. It was a little awkward but it was better than being stood in the snow arguing. We had a quick drink, but soon ended up in bed facing each other.

‘You know you’re not going to die tomorrow.’ He said, his blue eyes scanning my face in the dim light.

‘I might, the anaesthesia might have a weird effect on me and I might not wake up.’ I reasoned, but instead of arguing, House just watched me.

‘Well, if this is the last night you have on this Earth, what would you want to do most?’

I thought about it and I realised that I’d rather be in bed with him, staring at each other, talking about nothing, than anything else I could think of.

‘This.’ I whispered and again watched him process the information.

‘Can I kiss you?’ House’s eyes darkened and I couldn’t do anything but let my gaze drop to his mouth.

House softly pressed his lips to mine, it was gentle and slow, like we were committing everything to memory, but never pushing for anymore. We spent the time tensing before I fell asleep, kissing softly and staring at each other trying to figure out what to do next.

‘Everything’s going to be okay.’ He breathed as my eyes closed, unable to keep them open anymore.

House was in the viewing gallery when she was being put under, he gave her a wink as her eyes began closing. She would be fine.

Wilson was waiting outside the surgery, he wasn’t expecting that.

‘Are you going to take her home?’

House didn’t answer he just walked past Wilson and headed to his office.

‘Were you with her last night?’ He asked, he was becoming more and more irritating by the minute. ‘House, you gotta give me something.’

He went into his office and began getting on with work.

The surgery went well, all the shrapnel was removed, she didn’t die or even present with any infection or issues afterwards. Anna would be perfectly fine. He took her home when she was ready to go and stayed with her for the week. He didn’t give her any updates on her department, he let her rest and relax while she had the chance.

‘You’re painting again?’ He asked, seeing a mark on her arm.

‘Oh, yeah just a little practising.’ She lied.

‘Why are you lying? If I go in your spare room, am I going to find a naked man?’ He teased, making her laugh. ‘Seriously, what’s going on?’

Anna gave in and went into her spare room, he saw a small canvas with a partially finished canvas, it was him, an almost photographic image of his face. She was good.

‘I thought, I had the time to practice so I’d give it a go again.’ She defended weakly. ‘It’s not finished or anything, I’m a little rusty.’

‘It’s perfect.’ He said. ‘You gave up painting to become a doctor.’

‘I didn’t consciously give it up, I just got busy.’ She said, standing next to him. ‘We done in here?’

‘Sure.’ House said and decided not to push her on it.

He played the piano for her while she ate and made sure she took her medication when she needed to. But at some point he knew they needed to have a proper conversation.

‘I like this.’ He said, watching her lay on the sofa, her eyes growing heavy. ‘I like being here, I mean the stairs are a pain, but I like being here… with you.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying we should be together.’ House knew this would be hard. ‘I’m saying I’m in love with you and we should be together.’ He waited for a few minutes for her response, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Do you have anything you want to say?’

Anna inhaled deeply and he watched a tear fall from the corner of her eye. ‘What does more mean for you?’

The one question he didn’t know how to answer. The one question she needed answered. If he could just figure it out, he had a chance to make this work.

‘It means whatever you want it to mean.’ He thought about it. ‘I don’t care what that is.’

Anna didn’t say anything, she just watched him and eventually he began playing the piano again. She fell asleep on the sofa and a part of him didn’t want to wake her up, but she would be in pain if she stayed there. He got her into bed and asked if he could stay, she smiled and nodded and finally he felt like they might have been on the right track.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Something's Not Right Part 1- Billy Hargrove x OC

Billy Hargrove x Jenna Wilson

Description: Jenna is heartbroken when she finds out Billy cheated on her with Heather Holloway, but it would be just a few days later that she discovers that it may not have actually been her boyfriend in his body. 

Word Count: 1.6k

Jenna was absolutely heartbroken. Like, the physical pain one would get after finding out something terrible. She was hurt almost to the point of numbness. One of her worst fears had finally come true: Billy had cheated on her. Almost two years of dating went down the drain in just a single day. 

She should’ve suspected something that morning. The previous day, the two of them had planned to go out on a date. Unfortunately at the last minute Jenna’s parents decided that it’d be a good time to host a family dinner to celebrate her aunt's birthday early. As much as she didn’t want to, she had to call the Hargrove/Mayfield residence to tell Billy that she had to cancel. 

“Hello?” His stepmother, Susan Hargrove, was the one to answer the phone. 

“Hi Mrs. Hargrove,” Jenna greeted politely. “Is Billy home?”

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. He just left about ten minutes ago,” the woman answered apologetically, which thoroughly disappointed the younger girl. “Is everything okay?” 

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine,” she responded quickly. “I was just calling to tell Billy that I had to cancel our date tonight. We’re celebrating my aunt’s birthday, you see. I was just hoping to get to him before he left.” 

“Ah, I get it,” Susan laughed softly. “Well, if I see him first, I’ll be sure to pass on the message. But he’s probably on his way to your house by this point.” 

“It’s no problem if you don’t see him before me, I’ll just explain once he gets here. Thank you, ma’am.” 

Billy never ended up showing up that night, so Jenna just assumed that Susan had talked to him first. She felt bad about having to cancel, and that was all she’d thought about throughout dinner and the celebration. In an attempt to apologize in person, she’d shown up at the community pool the next morning, when Billy was supposed to be working. Upon arriving, she was immediately concerned. Her boyfriend had been making his rounds of the pool before making his way back to the lifeguard’s chair, but he was acting weird. He was stumbling in his steps, sweating profusely and looking physically uncomfortable. At first Jenna thought he was drunk or hungover, but upon walking up to him she realized that was not the case. 

“Billy,” she called softly as she reached him. The sudden greeting made the boy jump and whip around to face her, eyes wide. Jenna thought that was weird, but it wasn’t the first time she’d startled him, so she didn’t take offense. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry about last night,” she continued with an apologetic grin. “My parents were asked to host my aunt’s birthday party early because she’s leaving for Europe later this week. I called your house last night to explain but I guess you’d already left because your stepmother answered. I hope she passed on the message to you.” For a moment the boy just stared at her blankly, almost as if he was trying to remember how to function normally. What he said next surprised her. 

“You need to get away from me.” It took her aback, and her mouth dropped open. 

“Excuse me?” Billy’s eyes also widened, as if realizing what he said, then shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, I'm just really not feeling good. I’d just prefer to be alone right now,” he spoke, which calmed the girl down a bit. 

“Oh, uh… okay. Is there anything I can do?” The boy just shook his head as he climbed into his chair, which was the only answer she needed. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you later,” she mumbled, beginning to walk away. The entire conversation was weird, but she figured that he was just in one of his moods so she decided to just let it go. That would make a complete 180 the very next evening. 

Jenna had been sitting in her living room watching tv when she heard a knock on the front door. She didn’t want to have to get up, but her parents were still out of the house and so she had to answer. When she did, she was surprised to see Max and her friend El standing on the other side. 

“What do you know about Heather Holloway?” Max questioned, barely letting the older girl greet them. Jenna’s eyebrows shot up at the question and she shrugged. 

“Uh, not much. She used to be in our class, pretty popular. I’m pretty sure she works at the pool with Billy. Why?” 

“Do you know where she lives?” El asked nervously. 

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a party or two. Why?” Jenna answered, growing concerned. “Is something wrong?” 

“Can you take us there?” Max inquired instead of answering her. “We’ll explain everything later but we want to make sure she’s okay.” 

Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, the older girl nodded and grabbed her keys, leading them to her car. The ride to the Holloway residence was silent save for the radio playing quietly. Jenna’s brows furrowed as she pulled up to the house and noticed Billy’s car already there, and that sinking feeling became heavier. Both Max and El had asked her to just stay in the car, but her curiosity was too strong and she walked with them up to the door. She wished she would have done what they asked. 

After the girls knocked on the door, it only took a few seconds for it to open. Tom, Heather’s father, stood there asking what they needed. Max had answered that they were looking for Billy and the three of them were allowed inside. Jenna could practically feel her heart break when she saw her boyfriend sitting at the Holloway’s dinner table dressed in a nice button up shirt and his hair combed back. The thing that hurt the most was seeing Heather’s hand in his. 

Everything after that seemed to blur together. She vaguely remembered Billy just telling her that he was sorry before Max called him a selfish douchebag. The drive back to El’s house was even more quiet as the two younger girls had no idea what to say. Jenna preferred that to talking, though, so she didn’t care. When they arrived at El’s house, she remembered Max apologizing to her before climbing out of the car, allowing her to go home and cry the night away. 

She should have known that a guy like Billy would eventually pull something like that. It was basically in their DNA. But, that didn’t stop her pain. And God did it hurt. It hurt like she’d been stabbed in the heart, and the stabber left the knife there to remind her of it. Jenna didn’t want to leave her bed, too upset to move much. It wasn’t until her mother wanted her to get out of the house one evening that she finally did. 

“See a movie, get some dinner, go to the corner store for all I care,” the older woman spoke, handing Jenna her car keys. “Just go somewhere. I know that you’re hurting about Billy, but lying around your room for days on end isn’t gonna change what he did, honey.” Sure, it was a rather rude (and slightly hurtful) motivation, but a motivation nonetheless. So, she got dressed into something in the category just above pajamas and hopped into her car, figuring she could think of a destination once she was on the road. 

She ended up just driving around for hours. Music was blaring from the speakers, playing loud enough that she couldn’t think about Billy. It wasn’t until her car dinged, signaling that the gas was almost empty, that she finally stopped. She ended up pulling into the backlot of the Starcourt Mall to get to the gas station beside it. It was dark, much later than she realized, and yet she was quickly able to notice something odd. 

Two cars were already sitting in the backlot, though neither of them looked good. It looked like one of them had T-boned the other, though no one was in either of them from what she could see. The back door was also open, which concerned her. She debated on just leaving well enough alone, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. What if someone was hurt? The cars were in too bad of shape for the people in them to still be okay. With a heavy sigh, she parked and climbed out of her car, jogging through the open door. Upon getting inside she was met with an empty (and very creepy looking) utility hall. Goosebumps formed on her arms as a chill shot down her spine. It almost looked like a horror movie. Nevertheless, she made her way down the hall towards the main area of the mall. 

“Hello?” She called, voice echoing off the walls eerily. “Is anyone there?” Her calls continued, growing louder as she neared the main floor of the mall. It had come into sight, but just before she could step over the threshold of the hallway, she was suddenly pulled back and pressed against the wall. She opened her mouth to scream but a hand pressed against it, so all she could do was stare at the owner of the hand with wide eyes. 

“Shh, you need to be quiet,” the boy she recognized as Nancy Wheeler’s little brother, Mike, said quickly. Max stood behind him with wide frantic eyes at the mere sight of the older girl’s presence. Jenna moved her head away from Mike’s hand, though she didn’t have time to say anything before the two younger teens grabbed her hands and raced her over to one of the many food counters in the mall, leading her to quite possibly the most terrifying and insane situation she would ever experience.

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Warmth

Pairing: Alpha Beefy Bucky x Female Mutant Reader

Summary: Being paired off with Bucky Barnes on a mission was hard enough. Hell, the two of you being a part of Hydra a long time ago was already hard enough. But when the two of you are forced to seek shelter in an Avengers safehouse, it gets even worse.

Because there's only one freaking bed.

Will you survive the night with the grumpy Alpha by your side? Or will you rip your hair out?

Who knows. The nights are unpredictable.

What you do know is, is that Bucky Barnes is too fucking hot for his damn good.

Maybe you just might pull your hair out.

Warnings: Heavy A/B/O dynamics. Mentions of past torture from Hydra for both Bucky and the Reader. This Bucky is sort of a mix between CW!Bucky, (hence the beefy!Bucky), but also TFATWS!Bucky bc I love grumpy old man, sassy Bucky. Some angst/hurt/comfort, because I'm a hoe for angst. No heats/ruts in this lil fic, just good ole rough smut. Some biting and some mild blood too. This sex would be considered unprotected irl, but in the a/b/o verse, I don't think you'd need protection??? Who knows. Italics are for when Bucky and the Reader are talking in Russian. The Reader also has a nightmare, which ties back in with the whole mention of past torture from Hydra. If I missed any other warnings in this, let me know and I'll make sure to add them!

Additional Notes: This was written for @agentofbarnes's writing challenge! Congrats on 7k, Zee! I'm sorry this took so long. I started writing this in July, and let it marinate for far too long. But it's here now. I hope you enjoy!

All writing mistakes in this fic are mine, as usual.

Word Count: 4,602

Hell.

This was absolute pure fucking hell.

As you and the former Winter Soldier, James "Bucky" Barnes himself stared at the front door of one of the safehouses for the Avengers in case of emergencies, you couldn't help make eye contact with him.

Great. This was just great.

No one, not even Clint had told you that it would be snowing in freaking January in rural Ohio, of all places.

Then again, you had faintly remembered doing gymnastics before you had been taken by Hydra with some arrogant Alpha guy named Lance. He had been a real pain in your ass and you remembered you had made him cry once. After you had escaped from Hydra, you had bumped into him again. Funnily enough, he was still just as scared of you as he was all those years ago. Which, you know, was nice.

But what was not nice was the Alpha that was currently looking back at you. James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, Buck, White Panther, Jesus, Bionic Staring Machine- (the last three nicknames, all given to him by the Alpha Sam Wilson himself), scowled at you. His blue eyes even narrowed at you.

You wouldn't call what you and Bucky had a friendship. You two weren't even enemies. Heck, colleagues? Teammates? That was just putting it lightly, the relationship you had with the Alpha. Even when you had been captured and brainwashed into serving Hydra, the two of you had never crossed paths. It had been only after Hydra had fallen, did the two of you actually meet in person. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Nope. No with a capital N.O.

"Come on, let's go." Bucky all but grumbled. Realizing he didn't have the key to get inside, he looked at you. Like you had the key or something.

"James, I don't have the key." Bucky groaned. "Do you have a bobby pin, Omega? Something?" He asked in Russian. You plucked a bobby pin from your hair. A stray piece of hair fell. Putting the flat side in, you managed to unlock the door. You turned to look at him, giving him a toothy grin.

"Learned that from Pit Pocketing for Dummies, 101."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. You just sniggered as you opened the door, greeted by cool air smacking against your face.

It made you shiver.

Because, unlike Bucky, you did not have any of that good ole supersoldier serum in your veins.

You were a mutant that could control water. Sometimes, you wished that you had the ability to control fire, because then, at least you could be warm in such dire situations such as these.

Taking your shoes off and putting them at the door, you surveyed the place.

It was a small house. Like a cozy little cottage. Probably only had at least two rooms at the max. It certainly gave off that vibe. There was a fireplace in the living room. A fully furnished kitchen, complete with a little wooden table with benches instead of individual chairs near the window.

Your grip on your bag of clothes became tighter as you realized that you needed to take a shower. Your stomach grumbled, alerting Bucky that you were hungry. Your comms had died. The two of you could contact no one until you charged them.

Which meant for at least tonight, or whenever the snowstorm outside stopped, you only had Bucky Barnes for company.

Well. That certainly would be pleasant.

"Go and shower first. I'll make dinner."

***

After your shower, you walked back into the kitchen, your sweet smell that reminded Bucky of deserts that his Ma used to make for him and his younger sisters back in Brooklyn drifted towards his nose. Thanks to the serum, he had already smelled it a mile away.

Cinamon rolls. Apple turnovers. Apple pies. Pumpkin pies. Bucky felt his Alpha rumble at the smell. Even Winter stirred at the familiar scent he loved so much.

When Bucky had gotten the trigger words wiped away from him due to Princess Shuri's genius, the Winter Soldier hadn't gone away from him. Rather, Winter had become a part of Bucky. Winter had been what Bucky became to survive Hydra. Winter was Bucky, only darker. More possessive. The deepest, darkest thing of him that the Wakandan Elders had helped him find again and reconcile with.

It was during times like this, making dinner in the kitchen that reminded him so much of his time back in Wakanda. Taking care of his farm and his pet goats, (that he sadly couldn't bring back with him when coming back to America), that he missed the most. It was domestic, in a way. He could almost feed into the fantasy, the thought that you were his Omega, his Bondmate, and that he was just making dinner for you.

From an outsider's perspective, it might've looked like Bucky didn't like you. That he just tolerated you. Treated you like how he treated everyone else in his life.

But it was the contrary.

He liked you.

He liked you very, very much. Other than Steve, Natalia, and heck, even the winged pigeon- you were one of the only people to truly understand him. You were probably even on the same playing field as Natalia, because you knew what it was like to be controlled by the Russian government. You held him at an arm's length at most, and you never treated him like he was some fragile, broken man. When you treated his wounds, you never fretted like other Omega's. Nor did you dottle. Ask him if he was okay every five seconds. It was disappointing in a way.

Bucky turned his head, just as you hopped yourself onto the counter, away from the conduction stove.

The smell of butter pasta was filling your nose. You watched with rapt attention as Bucky shut off the stove, grabbed the freshly grated cheese, and dumping it in. To hell with calories. Stirring quickly for a few seconds, he stopped. Turning his head to look at you, he gave you a low smirk. His scent of something sandalwood, oceany filling your nose. It made your Omega preen.

"Get some bowls, will ya doll? And forks too." Hopping off of the countertops, he heard a chirping, yet sarcastic reply.

"Yes, Sarge."

He felt his pants tighten at the thought. Hearing you grab all of the stuff, he swallowed.

Not that he would tell you that.

No.

Never.

***

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking with me."

So, as luck would have it. There weren't two bedrooms.

Nope.

There was only one.

Not only that, the entire room was fully furnished. A closet was on the left side of the door, against the wall. There was a window and just a bit to right, in the middle of the room, was a queen-sized bed, all made up with all the fluffiest blankets, comforters, and pillows imaginable.

"And you're sure this is the only room?" Bucky said. "Yeah! It's the only one, James. It's either this or the couch. And I'm not sleeping on the couch. It's too cold. Whoever built this safehouse didn't have any heaters built in either. Fuck, is this how I die? Freezing to death?" Your voice was getting higher with concern.

Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"No, doll. You're not to freeze to death. We're going to share that bed."

You turned your head towards him like he had just grown a second head. "What?" you exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. Noooo. James. Nu-uh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to sleep with you in my tank top and underwear. the least you've seen me in is a pair of short shorts and a tank top."

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Get yourself together Barnes.

Don't throw her over your shoulder.

Don't do that.

"You're a water mutant, doll. You're not a fire mutant. You aren't a supersoldier either. I'm not letting you freeze to death. I'll keep you warm all night. Better yet, don't sleep in your tank top and shorts. Our body heats will do just fine." Bucky snapped at you. You were still trying to collect your thoughts.

And then the realization, the reality of your situation, smacked you right across the face.

Bucky was asking you to sleep naked.

With him.

In the same frigging bed together.

Oh you were going to die. You were going to die and go up to wherever other spirits went to after they died. You weren't really all that religious nor spiritual.

But tonight though?

Yeah. Maybe you believed. Maybe a little.

Just the slightest bit.

"Okay, okay," you grumbled, "I won't wear any clothes. Better yet, I'll even give you a show. That'll even out the odds, James."

***

Warm.

He was just oh so warm.

Your back was flush against his front, feeling skin-on-skin.

You had stopped shivering about an hour ago.

Bucky had scouted the safehouse, to see if there was actually a heater, in case you had missed anything.

Nope.

There were no heaters in the safehouse.

Absolutely none.

Not to mention, all of the blankets weren't as thick. From what Bucky had observed a few hours ago after dinner while you had tackled the task of doing the dishes, was that the safe house had been abandoned for a while. It was either that, or nobody had stocked this place up for a while.

He had chosen the latter.

With his strong arms wrapped around your stomach, he pulled you close. You were asleep. Dead asleep. Bucky felt and saw your body rise up and down as you slept, your breaths all evened out.

It was nice, almost. Outside was quiet. Bucky could hear other than your breathing only the soft wind blowing due to the snowstorm outside.

For a moment, Bucky was lulled into a sense of calm. His mind was clear. His Alpha and Winter were quiet. He didn't have to fret. Or look over his shoulder. Didn't have to second guess himself or his actions anymore.

And then he heard it.

Soft whimpers coming from the sweet-smelling Omega that he was currently holding in his arms. You had begun to squirm, arms thrashing out. Your legs smacked on his knees, trying to desperately claw yourself free from his tightening grip on you.

"... I'll be good... just don't chuck me in the freezer again... please sir... I hate it there... please don't chuck me in the freezer, please..." you were sobbing in your sleep. You started to blubber, continually trying to claw yourself out of Bucky's grip. The metal plates of his Vibrainum arm shifted as his metal fingers tightened around your stomach. Bucky knew not to apply too much pressure on you- you weren't like him, Steve, or Natalia. You didn't have the serum in you.

"Doll? Hey, doll. C'mon, wake up. It's not real." Bucky tried shaking you awake to no avail. You had continued to thrash in his arms.

Sniffling loudly, your Omega was thrashing in her cage, in the confines of your mind. She was whispering, yelling at you to wake up.

"Omega. Wake up."

Bucky didn't mean to use his Tone. But you were being so hysterical, shaking, and crying to the point where it was beginning to worry him. Your sweet scent had begun to twist and turn into something more burnt. Singed. It made his eyes water.

You stopped thrashing in his grip. Your body froze up at his use of his Tone. Your Omega stopped throwing her temper tantrum too. She had paused for a second.

Her Alpha had given her a Command.

So why wouldn't she listen?

Peering from her cage in the confines of your mind, she sighed happily.

Alpha. Alpha cares about us. She whispered in your ear.

Slowly returning to consciousness, you struggled to know where you were for a second.

You had been having a nightmare.

A full-fledged nightmare.

You hadn't had one of those in a while.

"... Where am I?" Your voice was gentle but confused.

You still didn't know if you were still in that godforsaken Hydra facility or not. But you just wanted to make sure.

"Here, doll. You're here with me. We're in Ohio, remember? Sharin' one bed together cause I don't wanna be a bad Alpha and letcha freeze to death." Bucky said.

You couldn't help it. You snuggled into him, hearing a deep rumble coming from his chest. Bucky's Alpha was pleased. Very pleased. Winter was quiet. Which surprised Bucky. The little shit was usually more vocal about his own needs these days.

For a moment, it felt okay. You felt that weird fog lifting. Your brain slowly settling in your current surroundings. Your sweet, filling scent that had twisted and burnt into something smoky and burnt was slowly wearing off.

You were still a little shaken up. You could still hear your screaming echoing in your head. Your voice trembling, and because you didn't know if you were still stuck in the facility, "How long?"

"Not long."

Bucky watched as you lifted your head up, blinking once. And then twice. And then again, just to be sure.

Your body felt like it still wasn't physically here. Your body still felt like it was back in the cryo chamber, stuck in that damn freezer. Bucky watched your chest heave up and down. Taking in deep breaths.

Then you flopped right back into your previous spot, your back facing his front. Bucky pulled you back with his metal arm. You heard the metal plates in his arm readjust and move. You couldn't help it. Your vagina throbbed at the sound. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wiggled a little bit.

A deep rumble had come from Bucky.

The metal-armed Alpha had pushed a little bit of his weight down on you. Making you feel all warm and safe with the sandalwood and salty scent wrapped all around you like a cocoon.

You wiggled up against him again, trying to get comfortable. Your eyes closed.

A deep groan came from Bucky.

Was he asleep?

You stopped moving.

Another groan came from Bucky. His arms were wrapped around you. Not tightly, but still. It was kinda nice in a way. You could feel every muscle on his broad chest against your back.

Maybe Bucky had the right idea to sleep naked after all.

You shifted again. Trying to wiggle out a little out of the embrace.

A deep growl rumbled from Bucky. His grip on you tightened. You squirmed against him again.

Voice gravelly, "Stop moving."

Your eyes flew open.

He was awake.

And you had been-

Letting out a hiss, Bucky pushed his entire weight onto you and grinded his half-hard cock against your ass cheeks. Not even caring about if his entire weight would crush you, because of the serum.

He saw red.

Pure absolute red.

You choked. A needy little whimper filled the room.

Bucky's metal hand traveled down, all the way down to your pussy, his knee pushing your legs apart. You were panting in anticipation, eyes wide as saucers. His metal fingers were shoved deep, all the way to the knuckles. A pitiful whine left your lips. A needy whine too.

When he entered you, a choked sob escaped from your lips. Your hands curled into fists, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the formerly brainwashed assassin let out a growl.

"So sick and tired of you teasin' me," was what the former Winter Soldier growled under his breath, hissing at the way your cunt wrapped around him. Slick was smeared around your inner thighs, and you couldn't help but sob at the feeling of being so full.

Bucky was groaning above you, his hands nearing shaking.

Never had he ever thought he could ever get to do this again.

Because Bucky very much still liked sex. He very much so was a sexual creature. Being inside you gave him flashes of his life before Hydra. It made him remember a much skinner, smaller Steve. A much duller, war-stricken Brooklyn. It made him remember the giggles of Omegas. It made him remember his Ma's cooking growing up. Rebecca's giggles in his ears. Just like the old times.

Not for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped.

He felt free.

This was freeing to him.

And when he began to move, position his hips against your back, smacking roughly. Good enough to leave marks in the morning.

Wet, squishing noise echoed noisily every time he bottomed out of you. Every thrust in, filling you, completing you. It sent you gasping and crying out into the pillows. His hands- both metal and flesh, reached under you, to grab ahold of your breasts in a tight grip that only made you sob for more.

"More, more, more, please James, please-"

Something snapped in him.

Broke.

Bucky had never felt this feral before. The last time he felt this feral had been the hours when he first presented.

You whined loudly when he slid out of you, crying out at the empty feeling. Your Omega screeched in alarm.

Why had her Alpha stopped? Why?

Grabbing ahold of your legs, he lifted them up. Before he thrusted back in again, filling you up to the brim. It was deeper than last time, and his cock hit that spongy part. Hit your g-spot so good that you screamed into the pillows.

You were coming. You were coming so fast, that deep coil inside you snapping like a bomb wire being cut that you never got the chance to feel your programs. Your body jolted, spasmed. Your legs lifted off of the bed or at least tried to. Bucky's body weight was still keeping you down. So all you could do was grip the bedsheets when Bucky started to pound into you again, taking all he could.

You couldn't help yourself. You glanced back, just to take a glimpse of him.

James Buchanan Barnes looked downright feral and your pussy clenched around him deeper at the sight. as if she knew.

Every thrust made him go deeper, hitting your cervix every time. It made your second orgasm piggyback off of your first one, sobbing into the pillows. It was only when your second orgasm came, your walls clenching down onto his cock that Bucky's teeth sank into your shoulder, shattering, breaking the skin there. The taste of copper filling his mouth. Bucky let out a grunt as he came. Filling you up with so much of his jizz that he was sure it would drip from you tomorrow morning.

Bucky lifted his mouth from your shoulder.

Pants filled the room as the two of you tried to regain yourselves.

Bucky shifted, moving off of you and lying beside you. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were back to their normal blue. They reminded you of the sea in the morning on a peaceful day.

Your hand came to touch his face. Your hand faltered, trembled though. Because you were nervous.

"It's okay," his voice was deeper, huskier. It made your pussy throb. "You can touch me. It's okay."

Your hands came to touch, cup his jaw. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His lips were soft. Your lips moved together, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss became deeper. You hadn't expected it to become deeper. You had been just going for an innocent kiss.

You swore.

Like- you really did.

You didn't expect to be fully making out with James Buchanan Barnes.

But it wasn't like you were complaining though.

Because you weren't.

Bucky was the first one to pull away. He could see how red, bruised your lips looked. He didn't recoil from your gentle touch on his face. He welcomed it. He truly did. Hands holding your hips, he looked at you.

His lips traveled down to your mating gland. He touched over it with his tongue, giving it a broad lick. His teeth sank in, piercing the skin.

Your ears popped. You cried out. His grip on your hips didn't falter.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasped. Bucky lifted his mouth up from your gland, before sinking his teeth back in and biting again. Making his mark all that deeper.

It was only when he lifted his mouth from your gland, wiped your blood off of him with the blanket did you come at him, sinking your teeth into his gland. It made him grunt, even groan. His flesh hand came to your head, pushing your head down, making you sink your teeth even deeper into his gland.

"Yesss," hissed Bucky, his flesh hand sinking into your hair, gripping it. "Deeper, doll. Go deeper."

Winter and his Alpha completely agreed.

Theirs.

You were theirs.

After what seemed an eternity, you lifted your head up. Wiping your mouth on the blanket, you spoke.

"I missed you. What did you do to get us paired on this mission? I thought I was going with Sam," you said to your Alpha. A smirk stretched over Bucky's lips. "Ah," your Alpha said, still smirking, "I might've put something in his drink to make him vomit his guts out. He got sick."

A noise came from you.

"You gave him food poisoning? James!" You scolded him. Bucky leaned back against the headboard. "Don't worry doll, it'll wear off when we come back to the Compound. Bird Brain won't even know what hit him."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, Sasha. Did you teach Natalia that trick, too? Hmm? She and all of your Widow students?"

Bucky was still grinning ear to ear at you when he responded back.

"Well little bird, someone had to teach them. After all, I was their teacher. They all called me Yasha. Speaking of my Widow students..." he trailed off in Russian. You looked at him.

"You've contacted one of the KBG? About that leaked Russian tape with the orange man that is, unfortunately, our President?" He asked you. You nodded. "Yeah, Sasha. Everything's going as planned. Although, I think assassinating the orange man would've been a much better option. We would've gone in there and made it a done deal by now! Fuckin' Steve and his righteous self." You grumbled unhappily.

"Hmm. It would've been great as a date night. Don't you think, doll?" Bucky drawled. You gave a serious nod.

"Although... seeing him freak out on Twitter is much, much better. The tea is better when it's hot." You grinned. Bucky just let out a sigh.

"I'm restricting your phone privileges. And your TV privileges. You need to stop watching those drama channels, Mega."

A noise of deep discomfort came from you.

"Sasha!" you whined, "then what will I do while you're gone on missions?"

"Wait for me to come back?" Bucky suggested. You just sighed. Even shook your head in fondest. You happily snuggled up to your Alpha, your nose rubbing up against your Mate's gland. "I always wait for you to come back, Sasha. I wait and I worry. I love you, James."

A deep rumble came from your Mate.

"I love you too, Little Omega."

Your head peeked up.

"So, can we tell the rest of the team when I leak the tape?" You asked, your eyes glimmering with mischief.

Bucky burst out laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes. We can tell them once you've wreaked havoc, Omega."

"Good." You were nodding seriously, in complete agreement. "It'll be fun. And... also, I forgot to tell you."

The joyful expression on Bucky's face was suddenly replaced with one of worry.

"What? What is it?" He asked gently. "When you were gone for your last mission two months ago... I... I came off of my suppressants. I'm ready, James. I want a family with you."

Shock flickered over Bucky's face. And then he was shoving you back into the bed with a shriek coming from you.

"When's your pre-heat?" He demanded.

You felt it. A cramp. It made you whimper.

"N-Now, James. Now," you stammered. Your Alpha pulled your legs apart roughly before he thrusted back into you, making you gasp.

"Say it," he hissed. "Say you want it. Say you want my knot. Say you want my pups."

"I want it, James." Your voice was a low whisper, even staggering a little bit. "I want your knot. I want your pups. Please. Please, Sasha."

His hands, both metal, and flesh gripped your shoulder tight as that vein of his neck nearly popped. His eyes were black with want. Soon, his Rut would be upon him and he'd breed you. Put his pup in you. You'd carry his pup. He'd have the pack that Winter and his Alpha desperately wanted after all these years.

A whine came from you when he pulled out, only to let out a scream when he thrusted back in. Hitting that part of you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

His pace was brutal, not even letting you hold onto him. Your hands were left to grip the bedsheets again. You gripped them so tight that your knuckles turned white and you thought that they were going to pop.

Bucky continued to push, continued to shove his ejaculate deeper and deeper inside of you. A mixture of your slick and his ejaculate smeared all over your thighs and trickled down your legs, and you just didn't know what was happening. Your hindbrain was telling you that this was what was needed. That your designation wanted, nay, demanded this. After all the shit you had gone through, your Omega had found her Alpha and now, now she was determined to have a family. Have the pack she desperately desired.

"Mine."

A harsh thrust made you sob.

"You're mine now. I waited for you for so long. Wanted you for so long. You're mine now. Got my Mark. Got my clothes in your nest. Gonna give you my name. Gonna give you my pups. You're mine. All mine. Say you're mine. Say it!"

You came screaming. Your orgasm making you see white. Bucky continued slamming into you, the wet, squishing noises coming from your pussy becoming louder and louder the more he pushed in. Your teeth sank into his flesh shoulder, shattering and piercing the skin there. You tasted copper in your mouth.

Bucky came with a shout. He shoved you back completely, making you shriek. And then he was leaning in again, sinking his teeth into your gland. Making another deep mark. It made you fall limp into the bed as his knot swelled, locking the two of you in place.

He lifted his head.

Being inside you... knotted inside of you... it was bliss. It was just as good as cockwarming. His cock all nestled deep inside of you whenever you two would sneak off to sleep together.

"Bite me again. Give me your mark, Omega." he panted. Slowly, your head went up, you slowly sat up, before taking in a deep breath and sinking your teeth back into his gland.

Home.

You had brought Bucky home. He held you tight, whispering in your ear how much he loved you and how much of a good Omega you were.

"I love you Omega." His voice was rough.

Lifting your head from his gland. Blood still trickling down the corners of your mouth. You offered him a smile. A genuine one. One that made his stomach all fluttery.

"I love you too, Alpha."

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Nice To Meet You

Bucky x Wilson!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut (duh, so kids go home.), Godzilla Vs Kong spoiler

A/N: I’m trying to get back to it. I’m so rusty, so please bear with me. 😩

Also, this story has unprotected sex. Remember that this is just fiction and if he ain’t got no rubber then he can’t be your lover.

Word Count: 3,554 (My bad.)

********

You pulled into the driveway of the home you shared with your older siblings and nephews. You popped the trunk before getting out in preparation to get the many groceries you'd just bought. 

You were bent over in the trunk when you heard a man's voice. 

"Excuse me?" He called out. 

You stopped what you were doing and turned to him. "Yes?" 

"Hi, I'm looking for Sam Wilson, does he live here?" He asked. 

"Yes, he does, but he isn't here right now." You answered. 

"Oh okay, um, I'm —" he started. 

"I know who you are," you interrupted him. I'm Y/N Wilson." 

"I didn't know Sam was married," he said shocked. 

You turned around and pulled a case of water from the trunk and gave it to him. Then sat another on top of it. 

"I'm not Sam's wife. I'm his youngest sister." You told him and hooked bags onto his arms. "This way," you led him to the large porch and into the house. 

You walked him into the kitchen where he set everything down, thanked him and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge for him. 

"I didn't know Sam had a sister. It's nice to meet you," he reached out to shake your hand. 

You grabbed the gloved hand and shook it. 

"Sam won't be back until tomorrow. He and Sarah went to get supplies for the boat a few towns over and they’re staying the night." 

"Sam has a boat?" He asked, confused. 

"What exactly do you know about my brother?" 

"Not much, I guess," he shrugged. 

"Wow, a man risks his life and has to go on the run for two years because of you and you couldn't take the time to ask him about his life or family?" You raised your brow at him. 

"Okay, I deserved that," he agreed. 

"Mmm hmm," you turned to put the groceries away. 

"Uh, I'll come back tomorrow when Sam's here." 

"How'd you get here? I didn't see a car out there." 

"I kind of walked from the bus station," he scratched the back of his neck. 

"And where are you staying?" You followed up. 

"I'm good at figuring those things out." 

"Right," you rolled your eyes. "You can stay here tonight. I have to meet my brother and sister at the docks tomorrow and we can just ride up together." 

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose. I'll be fine." He insisted. 

"Have you eaten?" You asked. 

His stomach decided to growl loudly at that moment. It wasn't exactly unusual for Bucky to forget to eat. 

"I'm gonna fry some fish for lunch. The guest room is the third room on the left upstairs. You can put your things in there. Also, lose the gloves. You don't have to hide who you are here." 

Bucky smiled at your back and followed your instructions. He looked at all of the family photos on the wall as he made his way to the room. 

He felt bad for the twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at how happy you all looked. He wished he still had photos of his family to look back on. 

Bucky put his bag on the big plush bed and changed his shirt. He was happy you said he didn't have to hide who he was there. It was hot as hell with those gloves on. 

********

When he returned to the kitchen you were already outside lighting up the deep fryer. 

"Anything I can help with?" He asked when he walked out onto the deck. 

"Absolutely, you can make the salad," you handed him the ingredients and a knife. 

The two of you worked in silence until you were finished and sat down to eat. 

"Thank you for letting me stay here," he finally said. 

"Of course, you're Sam's friend." 

"I don't know about friends. More like coworkers," he laughed. 

"Wow, is that a smile? You should do it more often. It's nice." You suggested. 

Bucky turned red. He couldn't remember when he was complimented last for a non violent act. 

"So, why are you here, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Just needed to talk to Sam about some things and you can call me Bucky." 

"I hope you aren't here to talk to him about the shield. We tried to talk him out of it at first, but he made a decision and just like the rest of us, you need to respect that." 

"He gave it away," he said with an attitude. 

"Actually, he didn't. He put it away, there's a difference. And maybe if you tried to understand his choices instead of having an attitude about it, you'd understand why he did what he did." You matched his fire. 

"Either way, I'm taking it back, because he deserves it. He's the only one who should have it." 

"I agree, but I won't let you give him anymore shit about what he felt was right." 

"I thought Sam was the superhero in this family?" He asked sarcastically. 

"Yeah, Sam protects the world and I protect Sam. You should be happy you're talking to me and not Sarah though, she would've punched you by now," you got up and took your empty plate inside. 

Bucky chuckled and watched as you walked away. His intention wasn't to come there and talk about the shield, but he still admired the way you had your brother's back. 

When you walked back out you had two drinks in your hands. You sat one down in front of him and went to your chair. 

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the red and orange drink. 

"A tequila sunrise. Heavy on the tequila," you sipped from your straw. 

"You know I can't get drunk, right?" 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah, the serum speeds up my metabolism, so I can't get drunk," he shrugged as he took a huge gulp. 

"I'm sure that sucks." 

"You have no idea." 

You sat outside and talked until the sun went down and then you went inside to clean up the kitchen. You washed dishes while Bucky dried them off and put them away. 

Bucky's phone was sitting on the table when you first heard the familiar dating app notification sound. You ignored it, but by the third time you finally asked if he was gonna check it. 

"It's probably no one," he said. 

"No one? You're getting matches like crazy. Let's see if they're any good," you picked up the phone. 

"What? No, absolutely not." He took the phone from you. 

"Why not? You could potentially find the love of your life out here," you sat down and patted the seat of the chair next to you. 

He finally gave in and sat next to you. Bucky opened his dating app and the two of you looked through his potential baes. He was swiping left on most of them so quick that you had to stop him. 

"You're not even reading their bios. Give it a chance, jeez." 

He slowed down a bit. 

"Melissa, likes long walks on the beach and playing in the mud? Next." He swiped. 

"Ooh, she's cute. Ella, an aspiring model who loves comedy. And look at that, her favorite movie is Robocop," you bit your lip to hold in your laugh. 

"You're worse than Sam," he said annoyed and put his phone away. “And it’s Robocop 3. That’s like the worst one.”

"Oh come on, Bucky, give her a chance she has two dogs!" You laughed. 

"I'm more of a cat guy actually," he said. 

"You're adorable," you continued laughing, “let's go watch a movie," you put your hand out for him to grab and led him into the front room. 

You turned on the TV and scrolled through for something to watch and finally settled on Godzilla Vs Kong figuring the action would be fun. 

"Five bucks says Godzilla kicks the crap out of Kong," you said. 

"What?? King Kong was first. It's only right that he reigns supreme in this situation," he countered. 

"Put up or shut up, Buck," you shrugged. 

He pulled the money from his wallet and sat it on the table. 

Halfway through the movie you were both talking smack to one another. Bucky hadn't even realized how comfortable he'd become. Your legs were across his lap and he was holding them in place. Casually rubbing circles on your thigh every few minutes. 

When Godzilla pinned Kong down and the fight seemed to be over, you jumped up in celebration. 

"Yessss!!!! The dinosaur for the winnnn!!" You danced in front of him. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, show off," he chuckled. 

You finished the remainder of the movie teasing one another along the way, when it ended you went up to get ready for bed. 

*******

Once you were done with your shower you put on your pajamas and went to the guest room to check on Bucky. 

He was standing in the window shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned looking out into the dark yard. You stared at his back. Your eyes tracing his entire body. 

You shifted your stance as you felt your body starting to react to the sight of him. Your pussy was getting wet causing you to forget why you'd even gone to the room in the first place. 

"Everything okay?" You heard his voice break your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Um, yeah, I was just coming to make sure you didn't need anything before I went to bed?" 

"No, I'm okay, thank you." He smirked. "You know you can just ask whatever you want to know." 

You walked further into the room never taking your eyes off where his flesh ended and his metal arm began. You reached up to touch him and he flexed his arm a little causing the plates to shift. 

You jumped back slightly before running your finger down the cool metal and then touching the scar he had. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked quietly. 

"Not anymore, but I still remember the pain," he answered. 

"You're a nice guy, Bucky and I really wish that this never had to happen to you. Although, I can't lie and say that I don't think it's really cool." You ran your fingers over the metal again. 

He took your chin in between his fingers and redirected your gaze to his eyes. He's wanted to kiss you since lunch and has been doing his best to hold back out of respect for his friend. 

"Can I kiss you?" He said barely above a whisper. 

You didn't even answer, just pressed your lips to his. The kiss was needy. You'd both been craving each other all day. He let his hands fall to the small of your back and you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Bucky picked you up and was leading you over to the bed when you could hear your phone ringing in the other room. You broke the kiss and he lowered you to the floor. 

"Shit!" You ran from the room. 

You picked up the phone and saw that it was Sam trying to FaceTime you. You hurried to answer. 

"Hey bro!" You said happily. 

"What you doing? What took you so long?" He immediately asked. 

"I was downstairs when I heard the phone, rudeness," you lied. 

Sam just looked at you. He could always tell when you were lying. Even one as small as that. You decided to switch the subject before he asked more questions. 

"Hey so guess who stopped by?" You said as you walked down the hall to the other room. 

You peeked into the guest room before going in. Bucky had put his shirt back on and stood when he saw you coming in. You stood next to him and put him in the camera. 

" Hi, Sam," Bucky said dryly. 

It may have seemed like a normal greeting, but he was really annoyed that he'd interrupted a moment he'd built up the courage to have all day. 

"Hey, what are you doing in my house Wall-E?" He chuckled. 

"I came to talk to you, but you're obviously not here." 

"Yeah, I put him up in the guest room for the night and we'll meet you down at the docks tomorrow." 

"Alright... You'd better not be getting sweet on my baby sister either," he cut his eyes at Bucky. 

"First of all, my sex life is none of your business. Secondly, there is no sweetness." You rolled your eyes. "Where's Sarah?" 

"You know she needs an hour long shower before bed just like you," he responded in a snarky tone. 

"Well, I'm going to bed, so tell her I said goodnight. I love y'all and we'll see you tomorrow." You said before hanging up. 

You put your phone on the charger for the night and when you turned around Bucky was standing at the door. 

"Goodness!" You yelled as you pressed a hand to your chest. 

He didn't say anything, just rushed over and started kissing you again. This time, even hungrier. 

Your tongues met and your body tingled. His hand gripped beneath your thigh as the other held him up. 

You broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. The few seconds felt like an eternity for Bucky. He never wanted to take his lips off you, but he did once more. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked as he trailed kisses down your body. 

He was finally on his knees in front of you. Face in between your thighs. 

"I need to hear you say it, doll." He kissed one thigh. 

"Yes," you breathed. 

"Yes, what?" He kissed the other thigh further down. 

"I'm sure, Bucky. I want you. Please," you buried your fingers in his hair. 

He licked your clit slowly at first. Taking you all in and tasting your nectar. It had been so damn long since he had such a pretty pussy in his face. 

You could hear him moaning as he sucked and slurped on your clit. 

"Ooh, fuck baby, yes," you moaned. 

Bucky's dick was screaming for release from his jeans. It was pressing hard against the fabric and ready for your touch, but he wasn't done with you just yet. 

He spread your thighs wider and stuck his tongue in your tight pussy. He tongue fucked you until you felt your first orgasm approaching. You reached down and started rubbing your clit. 

"Yeah, play with that pussy. Good girl," he praised. 

You rubbed faster. Bucky stuck his tongue back inside and let you fuck his face some more. Your legs shook and the warm juices flowed onto his tongue. He moved your hand and licked from your hole to your clit. 

"Told you I was more of a cat guy," he smiled. 

"Shut up and share," you grabbed his face and stuck your tongue out to taste yourself on his lips. 

You pushed his pants down and tried to flip him, so you could take him into your mouth, but he wouldn't budge. 

"No, need you now," he said as he slowly pushed inside of you. "Fuck," he said in your ear. 

He paused. He knew that if he moved he'd embarrass himself for sure, but you were so wet and tight. Fitting him perfectly. 

Bucky buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly started to move inside of you. Allowing you to adjust to him without hurting you too much. 

"You feel so good." 

Hearing you say that made him pick up the pace. He rolled his hips faster and pushed your knees to your chest. He wanted you to feel every last inch of him inside of you. 

He ripped your night shirt in half and exposed your breasts, watching them jiggle as he slammed into your pussy. 

Now he wanted to watch something else jiggle, so he pulled out and turned you on to your stomach. He pulled you up by the waist onto your knees and slid his hard cock back inside of you. 

"Fuck me," he demanded as he slapped each of your ass cheeks. 

You obliged and threw your ass back on his slick coated dick and he watched your ass bounce in the process. He knew he wasn't going to last long like this. 

"That's it, doll, fuck me. I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours." He said. 

His words caused you to cum. Your pussy clenched around him so tight and you knew when you heard the soft, "Oh fuck," leave his lips that he was about to explode. 

Bucky pulled out of you and stood on the bed. He pumped his warm thickness into your waiting mouth while moaning loudly. 

When he was done, you let some of the cum drip from your tongue. He slapped his dick in it and you swallowed the rest. 

"Good girl," he dropped to his knees and kissed you roughly. 

He fell back onto the bed taking you with him. You laid on his arm and traced his jawline with your finger. 

"You're beautiful," he said to you. 

"Thank you," you smiled. 

"Should I start you another bath?" 

"No, I can take one in the morning." 

"Good, because I don't want you to leave anyway." He kissed your forehead. 

"Get some rest," you told him. 

He looked tired and you could tell that he sleeps horribly at night. 

Bucky closed his eyes. You waited for a few minutes before going to the bathroom to clean up. When you came back and laid down, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. 

You snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep.

********

When you awoke the next morning Bucky's arms were still wrapped around you. 

"Good morning," he said and planted a kiss on your shoulder. 

"How'd you know I was awake?" Your voice still laced with sleep. 

"Your breathing changed," he kissed you again. 

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. His metal hand traced a cool trail between your breasts and down to your clit. 

You spread your legs to give him better access and then your phone started ringing. You rolled eyes when you saw Sam's name. This is the second time he's ruined your moment. 

"Hello?" You answered with an attitude. 

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," he said. 

"Samuel, it's literally," you looked at your phone for the time, "shit, it's 10am??" 

"Yeah, exactly you slept in. Get your butt up." 

Bucky didn't care that Sam was on the phone. He slid his fingers inside your pussy and pumped them slowly. Your body quivered beneath his touch. 

"I'm getting — I'll call you when we're on the way." You quickly hung up. 

Bucky chuckled. He moved his fingers faster inside of you and sucked a nipple into his mouth. 

Your orgasm was so close and then he pulled his fingers out. Your eyes popped open and the satisfied smirk on his face let you know that he'd done it on purpose. 

"Next time, don't answer the phone, doll." He kissed your lips and walked towards the door. "Oh and don't even think about touching yourself." He said before he disappeared. 

He was out of his mind. You quickly grabbed your toy from your drawer and went into the bathroom. You turned on the shower and sucked the vibrator into your mouth to wet it. 

You put your foot up on the tub and slowly fucked yourself with the toy. Your eyes were pinched shut and you were so into what you were feeling that you hadn't heard the door open. 

Bucky watched as you pleasured yourself. He was turned on by the sight, but pissed, because he told you not to. He walked over and snatched the toy from you. Covering your mouth, so you couldn't scream. 

"Now, I remember telling you not to do this, doll." He moved his hand and nipped at your collar bone. 

"No, you told me not to touch myself. I used the toy," you said. 

"Real cute," he growled. 

He put the toy on the counter and walked you into the shower. He got down on his knees and started eating your pussy again. 

He should've been punishing you, but instead he was treating himself. Bucky knew in that moment that you were now his addiction. 

You gripped his hair while he held on to the leg that was thrown over his shoulder. 

"I want to feel you. Please," you begged. 

He wanted to deny you, but he simply couldn't. Your wish was his command. 

He stood and lifted you up, slowly sliding you down on his hard dick. He was sure to keep you against the wall, so your hair wouldn't get wet. 

Bucky fucked into you slowly. Enjoying the feeling of your slick walls. He wanted to stay inside of you forever. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby!" You mewled. 

You heard him grunt in response. He was close himself and when you tighten your grip around him he exploded inside of you. 

You bit his neck as your own orgasm washed over you. He finally let you down and the two of you finished the shower together.

Bucky had no clue how he'd break this news to Sam, but he knew he had to, because there was no way he wanted to ever go without your touch again. 

********

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

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 series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

[certifiedskywalker]

What Could’ve Been - Sam Wilson

With the rift carved between Tony and Steve, sides were taken. You found yourself on Cap’s team of criminals, running away from confinement and towards trouble. Running led you all to Europe, specifically the English countryside, for a brief reprieve. During this break, you and Sam find yourselves at an ‘open house’, thinking about a future that isn’t yet in reach.

AN: I need to stop writing when I’m hungry…I always mention food…

Careful, you two. Steve’s warning rang through your head as you walked in step with Sam. You shook your head and scoffed, your breath forming a small cloud. Apparently, your sound of dismay was enough to get Sam’s attention.

“What?”

“Who does he think we are? Twelve year-olds? He said it like he can’t trust us. Us!”

“He really got under your skin this time, huh?” You glanced over at Sam as he spoke and saw the grin spread along his lips. The kind of grin that caused crinkles to form in the corners of his eyes. The kind of grin you saw all too rarely. 

“He didn’t get under yours?” You asked incredulously, throwing your hands up in slight defeat. “It’s like he thinks we’ll cause trouble and get caught.”

“Well, there was that time in Peru.”

You pointed a finger at Sam and shook your head. “That was different.”

“You went back for a sandwich! I mean, it was good, but not worth dying over.”

“I beg to differ,” you protested, “I went to bed full and satisfied that night. If I remember correctly, you were complaining about being hungry.”

“I don’t complain.” A laugh rippled up your throat at Sam’s sternness. “I don’t.”

“Sure,” you sighed after you caught your breath, “and Steve doesn’t like when we call him Captain either.”

“All I’m saying is that, out of all of us, you seem to cause the most chaos.”

“I cause chaos?! We literally went to j-”

As you spoke, Sam’s arm shot out in front of you. The touch stopped you mid-stride, but that was not what knocked the air from your lungs. It was the feeling of his hand on your waist, how his large palm brushed against your side. His forearm pressed against your abdomen, holding you still and in a warmth that pushed the English chill around you to the side. It was only when a car roared past you both that you found a foothold back in reality.

“There you go, proving my point,” Sam said, meeting your eyes. When he noted your slightly slack jaw and wide eyes, Sam’s demeanor shifted. He moved to stand in front of you, hands lightly gripping your arms. “Are you hurt?”

“I, no. I’m...sorry.”

A moment of quiet passed between you. Your gazes remained fixed on the others, trying to read past each other’s furrowed brows and confusion. After the white-noise of the quiet township faded back into focus, a small grin began to play on Sam’s lips. For a winding second, you wondered if he was going to kiss you; a strange, fleeting thought that left your mind as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Your life flash before your eyes? You think of that sandwich?”

At his teasing questions, the haze that Sam’s touch casted lifted like the dark clouds that trailed Summer storms. Any intrusive thought fled along with the feeling and you were left with your senses returned. Gently, you pushed at Sam’s shoulders and forced him to step back. He did easily with his eyes still fixed on you. 

Despite the fact there were hardly any people in the little village, you hurried across the street, desperate to get out of sight. Sam followed after you, unrelenting in his teasing.

“Aw, c’mon. You did, didn’t you?”

Not wanting to show how much he was getting to you, you kept walking as you replied. “So, maybe I did. Better than dwelling on an empty stomach.”

“Well, maybe you could watch where you walk. A trip to the ER isn’t really keeping a low profile.” You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at him as, while there remained a tilt in his mocking tone, there was something cold in his words. When your eyes landed on him, you saw that Sam was no longer grinning. 

“You worried about me?” You meant to play into his teasing, get him to smile again, but Sam remained unmoved. You opened your mouth to ask again, but Sam was ready to reply. 

“Just don’t want Cap to tell you ‘I told you so’. I’ll never hear the end of that.”

“Especially not if we’re cell neighbors,” you agreed, “again.”

At the mention of your past incarceration, Sam grew cold again. The Raft had been rough, more chilling than the loneliest nights in the quinjet. Even walking, you could see that Sam was revisiting his time there, just as you did in your darkest moments. His eyes were downcast on the sidewalk, until you took his arm.

His dark eyes lifted and met your gaze. For the first time since The Raft, you saw how truly tired Sam looked. You gave him a half smile, as it was all you could muster. Sam returned the expression as you moved to link your arm in his. Joined at the elbow, you began to lead him down the sidewalk, eyeing the facades of the shoppes as you went.

“Let’s find something to eat.”

“Another sandwich adventure?” Sam asked, a smile in his voice. Sure enough, when you glanced at him, you saw his lips were slightly more upturned.

“Maybe. What are you hungry for?”

“Nothing overwhelmingly English. No crumpets,” he shook his head, “things look like spongey hockey pucks.”

You stifled a laugh as you led him past what looked like a yarn shop. Threads of all colors mingled in spools and bundles in the windows. An older gentleman worked at the counter, glasses perched on the curve of his nose. He seemed to sense you and Sam as you strode past the store because, in a flash, he looked up.

Immediately, you fixed your gaze forward and tensed.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his voice low.

“Old guy, the shop we just walked by. I think we’re clear though.”

“You think? I need better than you think, Y/N/N.”

At the sound of Sam’s nickname for you, you relaxed in your stride. Taking advantage of the momentary ease, you glanced over your shoulder. You swore you saw someone poke their head outside of a doorway. Quickly, you turned your gaze forward again.

“Just keep moving.” Sam scoffed at your tone, but his arm tightened around yours.

“No shit, keep moving,” he said softly, only for your ears. “Move right back to the jet. We can loop back around, turn right up the road, and-”

“Excuse me!” You and Sam kept moving. “Excuse me! You two!”

You stopped in your tracks and, despite his extra step forwards, so did Sam. He grumbled something about running, but you knocked your shoulder against his to quiet him. Together, you turned around to find a plump, short woman with bright orange hair waving in your direction with one hand while the other held out a platter of biscuits.

You and Sam glanced at each other as she approached. He raised his brows at you, sending a silent message. Be ready for take off. You nodded, lifting your free hand to grip his arm in case he broke off in a sprint. Sam was faster than you, wings or no wings. He wouldn't leave you behind.

“Are you the Bridgers? The American couple that wanted to see the building?” The woman grinned at you and Sam, at your cocked heads and quirked brows. “I noticed you looking at the different shoppes. It’s a hidden gem, 784 Branbury, but it’s a good one!”

“Oh, I think that you-” Sam began, but you squeezed his bicep tight to stop him. He glanced at you, eyes squinted in question; but your gaze flickered between the smiling woman’s face and the plate of cookies she held out to you.

“Yes, we are the Bridgers. Everything here is so...quaint. We just got a little awe-struck and, well, lost.” You looked over at Sam who, still confused, eyed you warily.

“We did?”

“We did,” you confirmed, squeezing his arm again.

“You did,” the woman echoed. “Well, that’s quite alright. Here, follow me and you can help yourselves to these once we get inside. It’s really quite a nice place, all the furnishings and…”

The realtor rattled off on all the amenities of the building, but you were too busy dragging Sam in after her to truly hear what she was saying. He held back, legs locked in place and your arm slipped from his. The woman did not notice as you and Sam fell behind. Instead she wandered inside the building, still chattering away.

“What are you doing?” He asked, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help as you smiled at the sight.

“Causing chaos,” you replied as you reached for his arm once more. “And getting a cookie. Let’s go, Mr. Bridgers.”

Much to your surprise, Sam acquiesced. With ease, you led him inside the quaint storefront that, according to Ms. Verner, the cookie-holding realtor, had recently been remodeled in the cottage style. Exposed wood and wicker lined aspects of the decor, the darkest oak wonderfully offset by the white accents of the window sills and curtains. It all smelled faintly of varnish that was nearly masked by the scent of baked goods and treats that you and Sam immediately sought out. With her platter nearly cleared, and your stomachs sated, Ms. Verner busied herself by feeding her own curiosity.

“We don’t get many Americans about here. Why the interest in this property, if you don’t mind me asking such a thing?”

Searing panic rushed through your veins. You quickly peeled your eyes from the kitchenette that rested in a pristine, untouched state across from where you stood in the living room. Sam, with a half-eaten cookie in hand, glanced at you, read your wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Your ability to bullshit was misfiring. He needed to pick up the slack.

“Vacationing,” Sam replied tersely, “we come across the pond a lot. Hotels get….expensive, so this place might be cheaper in the long run, if we keep coming back to the UK. We haven’t...done the math yet.”

Ms. Verner nodded quickly in agreement. “Oh, yes! I see! Perhaps home owning will keep you ‘coming back’, as you said. I do believe that the monthly mor-”

Just as the redheaded realtor was about to dive off the edge into another tangent, a shrill beeping filled the space. Ms. Verner reached towards her pantsuit pocket and fumbled for her phone. You took advantage of the distraction to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Sam. In return, he gave you the softest smile you had ever seen. The sight sent a fluttering to your stomach.

“Hello there, Dorothy Verner speaking. I see, the property on 5th. One moment.” Ms. Verner pulled herself from her phone call and glanced apologetically between you and Sam. “Realtor duty calls, you know. Please, take a look upstairs. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Phone pressed to her ear, Ms. Verner stride out of the front door, leaving you both to the comfortable warmth of 784 Branbury. When the door shut with a secure click behind her, you glanced over at Sam. He met your gaze and gestured to the space around you with the hand that held his leftover cookie.

“We should go.”

“Why? We can't entertain the reality of the Bridgers?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a nod. “You seem to be enjoying the perks.”

Sam frowned before he tossed his half-eaten biscuit in the trash bin tucked by the sofa. The quiet stretched on, heavy between you. When he finally made a sound, it was a gentle rustling as he moved. It felt as if you were back in the cold confines of The Raft.

You half expected to see Sam pace as he did before. He would rub at his bearded chin, caught deep in thought as you had watched his shadow on the metal floor. It was all you could see of him: the only comfort you found in your cell was knowing he was in his own, knowing that he shared a wall with you despite it all. Though, now, it was as if he were a ghost.

“Sam, what is it?”

He lifted his eyes to yours and, in their darkness, you saw the depth of his sadness. “It’s not our life, our lives.”

“You’re right,” you admitted, “we’re strangers, not the Bridgers.”

Slowly, you took a few steps towards him. As you drew near, Sam’s eyes traced over your face. You gave him a soft smile in the hopes of raising his spirits. He seemed to respond, his lips quirking upwards ever so faintly. Encouraged by the sight, you held your hand out to him.

“But we can pretend for a little while. Pretend like we’re not wanted criminals, right?”

He raised a dark brow at you. “As long as we’re careful.”

“Yes, fine, Captain,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. “Now, let’s see the upstairs. Shall we?”

“We gotta do our due diligence,” Sam replied, playing along with your little make believe. He took your extended hand, completely enveloping your palm and fingers with his. You took an unsteady breath and you nodded. Before you could totally recover, spit out some witty retort, Sam was guiding you up to the second level of 784 Branbury.

Recently redone, the wooden stairs hardly creaked as you and Sam ascended. If they did, you were too lost in the feeling of Sam’s skin on yours to note it. However, it was impossible to miss the rumbling laugh that rose up from Sam’s chest.

“These guys owned the place? Uppity white people.”

“Uppity?” You paused on the stairs, halting Sam along with you. He gestured to the family portraits that lined the walls. A nauseatingly nuclear family clad in matching outfits lingered in the frames. Wide smiles were plastered on their faces.

“They're wearing v-neck sweaters! They probably did the pinky thing.” As he elaborated, Sam, with his free hand, mimicked the motions of sipping a cup of tea with his pinky extended out in the air. “The pinky thing.”

“So, they had manners? They were civilized?”

“Sure,” Sam sighed, his hand slipping from yours as he continued to climb up the stairs. “Had all the privilege too.” 

You watched him go and turn into the nearest open doorway before you glanced back to the family in the photos. In the abstract, you yearned for the happiness they presented, the peace: the domesticity. It was easy to imagine, to pretend, in their little house. You and Sam were the Bridgers, on holiday, planning out a future together.

“As if,” you whispered to yourself as you pushed that make-believe future from your mind. Quickly, you traced Sam’s trail and peeked into the first open doorway.

You expected to see him stood there, mocking the decor (the lace curtains in particular), but he was no longer there. With furrowed brows you took in the tacky wallpaper before returning to the hallway of portraits. You stepped into the next open door way only to find an empty bedroom. A large, king bed was perfectly made, untouched like the kitchenette. Life wonderfully frozen in time.

The lace curtains hung around the window, blowing in the gentle breeze that danced through the screen. Grey sheets were as soft as feathers as you trailed your fingertips along them. When was the last time you slept in a bed? When you were comfortable?

You couldn’t recall. The last time you had a stable place to sleep was on The Raft, where Sam’s shadow had been your only solace. Your stomach twisted at the memory, drove you to turn your back on the bed, the sweet promise of sleep.

“Sam?”

“In here!” You followed the call of Sam’s voice down the hall. It seemed to come from the farthest room on the right.

When you turned, poked your head through the open doorway, you saw Sam stood in the middle of the room. He didn’t turn to face you, but Sam’s gaze fell to the floor as you took in the space. Soft tones of blue paint coated the walls, but it was the faint scent of baby powder and shampoo that gave away the room. A nursery.

“I got two nephews at home,” Sam said as you stepped inside. “I helped my sister paint the nursery the first time. Teddy bear wallpaper on one wall. It didn’t last long. The boys crayoned right over them, gave some mustaches too.”

“Creative,” you mused, moving to stand at his side. Sam’s eyes lifted from the fuzzy rugged floor to meet your gaze. That sadness had returned. “You miss them.”

“I do, and my sister. Home.”

“You’ll see them again, once things...settle.”

“Settle? Things don’t settle for us,” he began, “they always go, go, go. Once we’re done here, done pretending, it’s back to running again. I’m tired, Y/N.”

“But we can’t just be tired, not even for a second.”

“Exactly,” Sam agreed, his dark eyes searching yours before he glanced around the blue nursery. “Can’t even pretend for very long, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

You reached out a careful hand and grabbed his shoulder. Sam glanced back to you as your thumb rubbed gently into the fabric of his shirt. You stared back at him, searching for the right words somewhere in his features. Instead, you found yourself lost in him.

“I want to pretend, with you,” Sam murmured. There was no playful, teasing grin or dower coldness in his face that lessened the blow of his words. It was all serious, Sam was serious, and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I do too,” you thought back to the pictures of the family in the hall, “but not what could’ve been, not in some different life.”

“You don’t want to be a Bridgers?” There was that teasing grin, though it was more mild than you were expecting. You let your hand fall from his shoulder, but his fingers wrapped gently around your wrist before it rested back at your side.

“No,” you replied, mirroring his smile.

“Just want to be us, then? What could be in our lives?” Sam’s dark eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your gaze. “I’m cool with that.”

“You are? Well, that’s great to hear,” you teased. “Maybe you could-”

Sam’s lips pressed against yours before you could continue. You melted into his touch. He pulled you softly to him by your wrist, with his other hand reaching up to cup your face. The coarse hair of his goatee nipped at your skin, coaxing your smile into the kiss. Silently, you hoped that the true pair of Bridgers were still running late to their viewing of their prospective holiday house. That way, you and Sam could pretend for a little while longer.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [3]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, ptsd, fighting over beds

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: every part i introduce more anonymous characters smh. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Don’t make me shoot you, Wilson.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, agent.”

“How’s it looking out there?”

“There’s been some talk. Apparently Serpentine isn’t very happy that their intel is dead. They’ve got people looking out for you everywhere.”

A frown adorned your face. Sam was leaning forward on his arms, head turned down as he listened to Ransone.

“How dangerous is it?”

“I would say that everyone’s a little wound up. Best not to go anywhere even a little populated.”

“Noted.” It would blow over in a while. The media coverage of Pierce’s assassination would die down with the changing news cycle soon.

“I can have someone pick you up wherever you are. Just tell me where.” 

“Don’t bother. We won’t be here for too long,” you responded, Sam nodding in agreement. Once it quietened down you could leave, go back to Ransone without blowing your cover.

“Whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when you’re out.”

The click of the call ending took with it the only noise in the room.

Sam picked up the phone to remove the battery, discarding it to maintain your security. Burner phones were useful, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Wait,” you cut in, holding your hand out for it, “I need to make another call.”

The both of you were seated at the dining table. A piece of paper lay in front of you, playing the dangerous role of being the mediator. 

You were trying to ration out your supplies and create a schedule as a way of finding middle ground. Things were more or less calm for the last two days, but the fight over the bedroom was wading into territory that could only be solved by a good old middle school fistfight.

Currently you were figuring out a meal plan so that you could establish some kind of routine. With bread as the only uniting factor, the other three components were going on a rotation. You had reached all the way till Saturday before running out of possible combinations.

“I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.”

“We’ve exhausted all edible options, it’s the only combination left-”

“I will not hesitate to fatally wound you.” You were only half kidding. The ridiculousness of the ideas he was proposing was entertaining, and you knew he wasn’t being serious. It was hard to catch a moment where he was. 

“Fine. But in case we get to the point where peanut butter and jelly is the only thing that’s left, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I would rather die than shovel spoonfuls of plain jelly and peanut butter into my mouth.”

“Your survival game is weak,” he chided, tsk-tsking at you.

You only rolled your eyes at him, moving on to the next subject.

Bed.

“Easy, we just alternate days. You got the last two days, so I get the next two and then we just switch everyday.” Sam eased back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head leisurely.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” you asked, writing down the plan he had just presented. The bed wasn’t queen sized with memory foam or any kind of privilege like that, but it definitely beat the couch with its odd lumps and depressions.

“A week tops. Anything more is just excessive.”

“Hello,” you said, voice low, even though you were well out of earshot of Sam. He was eying you from the living room window. If he was as good as he claimed he was, he’d know how to read lips and you couldn’t afford to have him do that.

“Code?”

You turned your back to the window, facing the large trees that loomed before you. “1993. It’s me.”

“Y/N?” He sounded suspicious, a little shocked, and you understood why he would be.

“Living and breathing.” You toed at a rock that lay ahead of you.

“Word on the street is that you’re dead,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not me; Pierce. I escaped. It was a trap.” When the rock you were playing around with escaped after a particularly hard kick, you started pacing up and down instead, “Ransone put a hit out on him because he thought he was leaking information.”

“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. He was dead before we got there.”

“Who is ‘we’? You got someone there with you?” You didn’t realise it had slipped out during your conversation. 

“Another one of our guys. Apparently I was a backup in case he didn’t show up, but he did, so now we’re stuck together.” You averted your gaze to Sam who was still observing you from the window brazenly, intently. 

“Where are you?”

“We’re safe.” 

“Alright.” He sounded like he understood, albeit not entirely convinced. “Stay low.”

“Will do.”

With that you hung up the call, dropped the phone to the ground and crushed it under your boot heel. When you were convinced that it was sufficiently useless, you turned on your heel, making your way back.

You walked back into the house, beelining to the kitchen to make up for your missed lunch, only to be greeted with Sam sitting on the couch looking at you inquisitively.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody,” you answered straightforwardly, opening the cabinet to get two slices of bread.

“If it has somethin’ to do with this situation we’re in then I need to know who you’re talking to.”

“Just drop it. It has nothing to do with you.” You found the jar of peanut butter he had already opened, using a butter knife to spread it along the bread.

“Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you must. I’m going to take a nap,” you answered evasively, chewing absentmindedly on the sandwich you had just made. You didn’t bother to look at him as you headed towards the bedroom.

“Hey now, hold on a minute. Who said you had bedroom privileges? You’ve been using it for two days.” You stopped in your tracks, face scrunching in annoyance. “If you’re keeping vital information about my life from me, then I think I deserve to not have a fuckin’ backache when I wake up in the morning.”

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head, imagining how the next few minutes would pan out if you just said ‘no’ and left. But in every imaginary argument you proposed, the bottom line ended with him prodding at you until he either got the information that he wanted or the bed.

Frankly, the bed was something you were willing to sacrifice to get him to stop meddling in your business. It seemed like the only reasonable way to get him off your ass.

“Fine.” You spun around to face him. “We’re making an arrangement.”

“Whoever has the bed has to forfeit TV privileges for that day.”

“Sounds reasonable. None of those three movies can be played more than twice in a row.”

That was more to preserve your sanity than anything. You had already seen each of them once, bordering on thrice for Die Hard. Sam’s fault, not yours.

“We should have a codeword. In case there's danger or something. Or maybe if you just want to be left alone,” Sam suggested, finger pointing to the blank space left at the end of the paper. “But it’ll be like solitary confinement since it’s so fuckin’ quiet here.”

Almost on instinct your mind flashed to images of dark cells. Quiet sobs. Blood stains on the wall, originating from clawing at it. Sunlight through one small window at the top. Utter loneliness except for yourself.

You could remember the soreness in your legs from curling up into a ball for hours, rocking back and forth. The smell of drain water collecting in the basement where the cell was.

Isolation.

“You got any suggestions?”

“Huh?” You forced yourself back to the present. Your knuckles had a dull ache in them from holding the pencil too hard.

“Do you have any ideas for a codeword?” Sam repeated, looking at you intently.

“No, nothing off the top of my head.” You shook your head, trying to regain focus. You loosened your grip on the pencil, letting it fall to the table.

“We’ll just leave it at ‘Brooklyn’ for the time being.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed to whatever he was saying. It was just a precaution in case something major happened. It was rather unlikely that you were going to use it anyway. 

Codewords weren’t uncommon in your business, but it was mostly used for missions or other professional standings. Regardless of being less adventurous than what you tended to work on, this was work at the end of the day. 

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done.” His chair scraped loudly against the ground as he got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a while. Need to shake off the possible osteoporosis.”

You didn’t bother asking where he was going, ears following his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the bedroom, probably to get his jacket that he hung up in the drawer.

You left the paper on top of the mini fridge, alongside the car keys and a few dollars you had nabbed in the hurry from Pierce’s house.

Staring around you at the silent room, you realised that there really wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t like you to have so much time on your hands. You could always go for a run or test out some of the weapons hidden here. 

You had the rest of the house to explore, plans to draw up, a post mortem to assess what went wrong on the mission, even though the last option wasn’t possible without Sam’s cooperation.

Fuck it, you decided. Couch it is.

Kicking your feet up, you grabbed the TV remote to flip to the news station. The town rarely had anything to report on but it would be worthwhile to know what exactly was available around. Possibly assimilate in the crowd in case you wanted to be hidden.

It took you a few minutes of mindless surfing through static channels till you found it. It seemed like a scene right out of a Hallmark movie; the reporter was holding a microphone to a child who looked like he understood nothing of what was going on.

You were barely paying attention as it flipped from segment to segment, other things taking precedence in your mind even though you willed yourself to relax. There really wasn’t much to make a note of other than a few good samaritans and how utterly boring the lack of content was. A few occasional glimpses of stores and other resources available in the background were the only interesting part.

You were starting to drift off by the time it reached the breaking news of the evening. Sam had already come back when the sky slipped into twilight. He barely acknowledged your form lazing on the couch, only offering you a greeting and a goodbye as he made himself his dinner to take to the room.

Your eyes were just about closing when the breaking news of that evening came in. It was all politics. People you knew from old missions waving and smiling their way to lead their country as if the dubious acts they committed behind the scenes to get there was erased.

Until you suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide open.

“Wilson. Wilson!” You hit the cushion furiously to get his attention when he didn’t respond the first time around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What?” he yelled in response, mild irritation in his voice. You knew it sounded like you were shouting bloody murder even though no one was around other than you two, but you didn’t care.

“Look at this!” You couldn’t stop gawking at the screen. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“What? What do you wa-” He stalked into the room, ready to tell you to stop yelling but stopped mid sentence when he finally saw what you were so concerned about.

“Reports claim that the victim was attacked early in the afternoon at his villa. Officers say they found multiple signs of a forced entry, following which he was shot dead. So far no arrests have been made but the police have since released photos of two suspects of whom, they claim, have reason to believe orchestrated the attack.”

On the right side of the screen flashed yours and Sam’s picture side by side. Old mugshots from a petty offence you committed years ago for which Ransone bailed you out.

“The pair are said to be on the run after escaping before law enforcement arrived. If you have any tips on the whereabouts of-”

You turned to look at Sam. His stare didn’t budge from the TV as they once again reminded the public what you both looked like.

Years of anonymity, working in the shadows and creeping around to avoid being recognised only to have the entire country know what you looked like.

“Well, shit,” he finally exhaled. “Somehow I think our stay here just got extended.”

Part 4

[purebarnes]

courage to change— (fem!avenger x bucky!)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ sam, bucky and y/n get in an intense therapy session when bucky gets arrested, lashing out at eachother only wanting to finish the mission and go their separate ways.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 3.1k

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ angst, mention of deaths, intense convo, yelling/swearing

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ! ➢ nothin, please enjoy!

every once in awhile, silence would creep upon y/n and it was completely be torture for her. she would stay quiet for along time and just stare at the floor or even at a wall. it was unhealthy for her to not talk about how she felt but she had no one. she stared at the all slumping into her chair just waiting to get off the plane. sam looked up to see bucky and y/n silent just not saying anything. he closed his eyes and then spoke up, “you alright?” she swore every time someone would ask that question, she grew even more aggressive. it wasn’t their fault but she hated that question and it was even worse when she wasn’t. she looked up to meet sam in his brown eyes before nodding to not worry him about anything.

she was someone to express her feelings and especially to sam or bucky, she saw them as family even when she didn’t want to admit it. sam went on to go and ask bucky if he was fine, “let’s take the shield. let’s take the shield and do this ourselves.” bucky spoke wanting to have that shield back so badly, “we can’t just run up on the man, beat him up, and take it. do you remember what happened last time we stole it?—maybe—I’ll help you in case you forgot. sharon was branded enemy of the state, and steve and i were in the run for two years. i don’t know about you, but i don’t wanna live the rest of my life la vida loca. we just got our asses handed to us by super soldiers, and we got nothing.” sam explained.

y/n looked up to see them, “not entirely true.” bucky got up his seat and went to go sit next to sam moving slowly, hearing his dog chains move along while he went to sit. he wouldn’t say anything until he spoke up, “there is someone that you guys should meet.” they made it to baltimore and had to walk down to someone’s house. the girl honestly was going to leave and not look back but sam dragged her because he didn’t want to be alone with bucky. they encountered two kids playing on he streets, “hey, it’s black falcon, what’s up?—it’s just falcon, kid.” sam told the little kid, “no, no. my daddy told me it’s black falcon.” sam stopped with y/n to hear how this was going to end, bucky kept on walking.

“is it because i’m black and the falcon?—well, technically, i mean, yes—so are you, like, black kid? i got him, right?” sam chuckled when he rolled his eyes in defeat while y/n kept walking to meet behind bucky to finally be standing in front of a grey house and a sign that said no trespassing. y/n looked over to see the neighborhood, bucky knocked on the door making it open. “we’re here to see isaiah—nobody named isaiah lives here.” the boy said not wanting them to enter but bucky begged.

bucky told him, “we just want to talk to him—you must not hear what i just said. you ain’t getting in this house. y’all can leave now.” he said to them making y/n stare at him uneasy, “tell him the guy from the bat in goyang is here. he’s gonna know what that means.” the kid went to leave to see if they could all come in and once he came back, he opened the door and let them all in. y/n grew confused as what was happening and how bucky knew this older man as he never told her anything about him. “look at you—this is, uh, sam and this is y/n. sam, y/n, this is isaiah.” he introduced all of them to each other.

“he was a hero. one of the ones that hydra feared the most. like steve. we met in '51—if by met, you mean i whupped your ass, then, yeah.” bucky smiled lightly, “we heard whispers he was in the peninsula. but everyone they sent after him, never came back. so the u.s. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him. i took half that metal arm in that fight in goyang, but i see he’s managed to grow it back.” isaiah said noticing the metal arm bucky had on, “i just wanted to see if he got the arm back. or if he’d come to kill me.” he finished before bucky spoke, “i’m not a killer anymore.” bucky whispered softly, “you think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? it doesn’t work like that. well, maybe it does for folks like you.”

the man through a lot and y/n could tell how, the way he spoke and the pain in his voice. “isaiah, the reason we’re here is because there’s more of you and me out there—you and me.” he interrupted him not believing anything he was saying, “and we need to know how—i’m not gonna track about it anymore.” isaiah grabbed something and through it into the wall with a lot of force making y/n look at him. he walked to bucky, “you know what they did to me for being a hero? they put my ass in jail for 30 years. people running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. even your people weren’t done with me.”

the pain in his voice and hurt made y/n want to show sympathy but he wasn’t having it from her, “get out of my house!” he yelled as y/n walked behind sam following them outside and y/n couldn’t believe what was happening. “sam—why didn’t you tell me about isaiah? how could nobody bring him up? i asked you a question, bucky.” sam was angry, “i know—steve didn’t know him, did you know?” sam pointed at y/n and she shook her head , “no, she didn’t. i didn’t tell her or steve.” bucky said looking at her, “so you’re telling me that there was a black super soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?”

the next thing they heard was siren and they all looked up to see what was happening, “hey—what’s up, man?” sam asked not wanting to cause anything, “is there a problem here?—no, we’re just talking.” sam tried once again to not cause anything with the police. y/n knew what this was about and it was wrong of them, “can i see your id?—i don’t have id. why?” y/n sighed at the police men and was grossed out to them, “okay, sir, just calm down—i am calm. what do you want? we’re just talking.” sam said.

“give him your id so we can leave—no. i’m not giving him shit. we’re just talking.” y/n moved from behind bucky and the police saw her and softened when she noticed who she was, “oh, miss stark. is he bothering you?—what, no, he’s not bothering me. do you know who this is?” she raised her voice as bucky pulled her back, they both whispered something about them being the avengers. “oh, god. i am so sorry, mr. wilson. i didn’t recognize you with the goggles. i’m really, really sorry about this.” the officer laughed nervously which no part of what he was doing funny at all. bucky moved to them before whispering, “i didn’t tell anyone because he had already been through enough.” sam just looked at him in disbelief.

the officers went back to all three of them, “mr. barnes, there’s a warrant out for your arrest—the president pardoned him for all that.” sam said telling him before the officer explained it again, “not for that. you missed your court-mandated therapy. it’s like missing a check-in with your po. i’m sorry, mr. barnes, you’re under arrest.” bucky sighed walking over to get handcuffed and entering the cop car.

sam and y/n went to the police station to see bucky but was met with a unknown face. “sam. I’ve heard a lot about you. i’m dr. raynor. i’m james therapist.” she stopped when she saw y/n looking at the floor just think about anything, “and you must be y/n. i have heard a lot about you as well, a little more than expected, miss stark.” y/n looked up smiling and got up to shake her hand and greet her and her heart ached a bit. “oh, it’s nice to meet you.” sam thanked her to get him, “that was not me.” she said before looking at john.

the door buzzed and bucky came out while bucky kept staring, “james, condition of your release, session now. you too, sam and y/n.” she said before y/n could protest to not wanting to be in a therapy session with bucky. “no... that alright, i’m—that wasn’t a request.” she told them as y/n sighed before following her already looking annoyed. they all sat next to each other not speaking already. “who would like to start?—all right, look, dr. raynor? i get it why you want us to talk to freaky magoo over here. but i’m 100% fine.” sam said gesturing towards bucky.

“it’s my job to make sure that you’re okay. and so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional, but it’s the only way that i can see if you’re getting over whatever’s eating at you.” she told them while y/n rolled her not that this lady was bogus but that she didn’t need this at all. “this is ridiculous—yeah, i agree—yup.” they all agreed not wanting to be in that position, “see? making progress already. so, who wants to go first.” no one spoke up and the silence was eating them alive, “no volunteers? wow. how surprising. okay. we’re gonna to do an exercise. it’s something i use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together.” bucky glanced at y/n but she kept looking away so she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“sam, i want james and y/n to go first though. turn around face each other.” she said while sam moved to the side waiting for bucky and y/n to face each other. y/n moved her chair and bucky did the same meeting her eyes but she just stared at the wall. dr. raynor saw y/n not meeting bucky’s eyes. a moment passed before she spoke, “okay, y/n tell me what bothers you about james.” y/n looked up to see bucky and glared at him as bucky went to stare but in a timid way, “he’s prevaricator. yeah you know it’s funny because sometimes i thought you would turn out different but i guess they were right.” she said.

bucky looked at her wanting to say sorry for everything he has done to her, “honestly, i feel fine. i don’t need this okay?” she told them sitting up straight crossing her legs. dr. raynor looked up and sighed since she wasn’t getting anything from her, “y/n, you’re father died. i lost many people, you must feel some type—nope, i’m alright. when will people stop telling me how to feel.” she sighed not meet the therapist’s eyes because deep down she knew she was right. “he’s gone. but nothing will bring him back... i’m waiting for some easy way out. i was isolated in my room and i wouldn’t leave, not when i had no one.” y/n breathed out, her foot shaking.

it was something she did to calm her nerves, “i never called.” bucky paused looking back up to see her staring to see what he would say, “i never called because i didn’t know what to say.” bucky felt this way because the winter soldier was the one that killed her grandparents. she knew that but she also knew that he was brainwashed and so that wasn’t him. not the real him. y/n inhaled and sensed, “i lost everything, i... uh, i was hurting and all i wanted was someone. to ask me how i was doing or to tell me everything was gonna be ok but— i kept hoping to get a call from the person that i loved..”

bucky looked up to her and looked at her with sympathy as she said she loved him but winced at that being in the past. he couldn’t let her be in pain but could anything he would say to her, help at all in the situation. “i guess miracles don’t just happen.” bucky sighed when she got up and moved to the side.

after dr. raynor went to write a few things in her notebook as sam went to move his chair, “you should really enjoy this—i’m going to—i know you are.” not even ten seconds and they started bickering at each other while turning to see each other. “let’s do it. let’s stare. this a good exercise. thanks, doc—all right,get close. get closer.” she said when they went to get close, “which way you want to go?—right or left?—you know what? fine here.” they kept arguing about how close they wanted to be, “you happy now? we’re locked in—that’s a little close.”

“that’s very close. that’s what you wanted right?—guys.” dr. raynor told them to stop it before telling them to look at each other, “look each other in the eyes.” it took a moment before they both looked up, “there, you see? that wasn’t t so hard.” they started staring at each other trying to intimidate each other as y/n rolled her eyes at their childness. “wait. what are you doing? at you having a staring contest? just blink.” she snapped her fingers causing them to blink. she asked what agrravated bucky about sam.

bucky smirked wanting to say something, “and don’t say something childish—why did you give up that shield?” y/n could sense something was going to happen between them both, she knew this was a horrible idea. “why are you making such a big deal out of something that has nothing to do with you?—steve believed in you. he trusted you. he gave you that shield for a reason. that shield. that shield is... that is everything he stood for. that is his legacy. he gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing—shut up.” y/n was hurt by hurt bucky was feeling, she understood what he was feeling but maybe sam had a reason to do that.

“so maybe he was wrong about you. and if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.” bucky seethed while sam asked if he was finished so he could go, “all right, good. maybe this is something you or steve will never understand. but can’t you accept that i did what i thought was right?” sam scoffed wanting to end all that was happening. “you know what, do ? I don’t have time—no, we don’t have time for this.” sam looked at y/n, “we have some real serious shit going on. so how about this? i will squash it right now. we go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on our separate, long vacations and never see each other again.” sam spoke.

y/n nodded while getting up, “thanks, doc, for making it weird. i feel much better. let’s go y/n. i’ll see you outside.” she nodded walking out the door before glancing at bucky then making her outside. this was a chance where she could leave and not look back. when sam and bucky noticed she wasn’t by their side, bucky went to call her name. no response, bucky sighed going to walk towards her and grab her hand as she yanked it away. he stepped it back and it was a habit that she would do.

she bit her lip them turning to see him, “where are you going?—i’m leaving bucky. this wasn’t a good idea. we both know that.” she scratched the back of her head while sticking her tongue inside of her mouth. “you can’t leave. we need you.” bucky put his hands in his pockets as the wind his his face, “no, you guys don’t. i’m unstable and will ruin—just stay. please, i need you to stay.” bucky wanted to bring up what happens back there but he saw sam calling him over. “stay here. give me a minute.” she nodded waiting at the exact same spot, him running off.

the girl could hear faint arguments from the boys and john but didn’t seem to care. she was getting colder as time went by, she saw them walking towards her. y/n shivering and her nose red and her not having a coat or jacket made everything worse. bucky noticed her getting cold and started to take off his jacket but she stopped him, “keep it. i’m okay.” she lied right through her teeth, she wanted that jacket so badly but she wouldn’t show him that he had that effect on her. he took it off completely and handed it but she wouldn’t grab it.

bucky took that as she didn’t want it then he went to put it around her shoulders. she gripped her shoulders from behind and tensed at the feeling when he let go. the tension they both had for each other made things difficult and sam watched them awkwardly not knowing what to say. “yeah, ok. can we go?” bucky looked at him, glaring at his direction leaving to walk with both of them.

y/n asked what john had to say to them and they just told her that they needed to stay out of his way. she raised an eyebrow at what they told her, walking around. “i know what we have to do. when isaiah said “my people”—don’t take that to heart. that’s not what he meant.” sam told him when bucky went to explain what they needed to do even if y/n was still going to work with them. “no. he meant hydra. hydra used to be my people.” sam scoffed not wanting to listen to bucky about his new plan. “walker doesn’t have any leads—i know where you’re going with this and no.” y/n spoke up and bucky turned to see her and when she had his jacket wrapped around her arms he smiled but not enough so she could see.

“y/n, he knows all of hydra’s secrets. don’t you remember siberia?” y/n shook her head not understanding the whole concept of what he was getting out. “so you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?—yes.” bucky hesitation come from him while sam and y/n shared a look then sam spoke up. “alright. we’re gonna go see zemo.”

[house-md-obsession]

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Two

168 hours prior.

___ went to take another sip of her coffee, just to find that it was gone, with just a cold drop finding its way into her mouth. She sat the cup back down, and pondered running to the cafeteria to get another dose of caffeine. She felt the aching of the back of her head creep its way into her mind, reminding her of the lack of sleep from the night before. She let out a sigh, before folding the folder in which the current case file sat.

“Going to get more ‘Crack in a Cup’?” her sarcastic, lanky boss called from his desk across the room. “People don’t stop dying because you’re caffienated, ___.” He added. She restrained the urge to roll her tired eyes, taking in a deep breath before flashing him a smile.

“No, but they may die if all of us aren’t up to our best. Which includes me.” She swallowed, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. She felt her knees ache and tired feet begin to throb the moment she put her weight on them.

“What makes you think you’re going to have the answer to this because you had coffee?”

“What makes you think you’ll get the answer if I don’t?”

And with his mouth shut, she began making her way out of his office, and out of the door. She yawned as she rifled a hand through her hair, every step radiating pain up through her calves as her exhausted body continued on. Her mind wandered in an in-cohesive thought pattern as she droned on for coffee— she might even opt for an energy drink, despite being the first person to warn everyone of how dangerous they are. ‘I’m so damn tired, I think this is an exception.’

She turned the corner, and stepped onto the elevator. She didn’t even register who else was in the cab until she heard a familiar clearing of a throat. Her tired eyes shot up, and felt a smile creep on her face.

“You look awful.” His soft voice rang out with a gentle laugh. She let out a soft laugh herself, and readjusted her lab coat. Her eyes met his soft brown ones, the brunette man with a warm smile pressed a button as the doors closed.

“Yeah, that’s what I get for working on his team.” She said, referring to the rough man with blue eyes she continuously clashed with. “I haven’t slept in two days. I feel like I’m going nuts.”

“Two days?? That kind of sleep deprivation can’t be good.”

“No shit. I can’t stop drifting off. But we are so close to cracking this case.”

“You’ve been saying that for four days, ____. Get some sleep.” He said, before feeling the elevator cab come to a gradual stop. The doors opened on the bottom floor, directly into the cafeteria.

“I forgot to press a button but I guess it worked out. Grabbing breakfast?” She asked, and he gave her a chuckle.

“Making sure you don’t OD on caffeine.”

158 hours prior.

____ felt a tap on her shoulder, during her from the sleep that she had accidentally fallen into in the chair next to the patient’s bed.

“You were right. It was an infection. Broad-spectrum antibiotics worked.” Foreman said, quietly. She sat up from the slouched position she was in epic too tired eyes a few times before looking up at the tall, handsome Black doctor with a faint smile on his face.

“Brain damage? From the uh… the fever?” She asked, feeling her mouth dry and neck sore from the position in which she’d unexpectedly and unintentionally fallen asleep in.

“If there is any, it’s minimal. He still hasn’t woken up so we’re not sure, but we will do some generalized testing once he’s awake. We didn’t see any on the MRI.” His warm voice made her feel a little better about passing out next to the sick man. “You did some really great work, ___.”

“Thanks, Foreman.”

“Go home. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

She was quick to make her way to her locker. Unable to focus on packing the bare minimum of her things up, she sat for a minute, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. It took her a little longer than it should’ve to remember her lock combination as she felt she was battling herself.

“Hey.” She heard a voice call from her right. She glances up and is greeted by the same warm, brown eyes she’d met in the elevator this morning.

“Hey, James.” She said softly, feeling her dry throat scratch at itself with every syllable.

“I’m taking you home. House demanded.” He said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right. I’ll be fine.”

“You haven’t slept for coming up on three days. Your cognitive function is that of someone who is over the legal limit of alcohol. You’re not driving. That’s a fast pass back here.” He said, and she just found the ground with her eyes. “Besides. I watched you for all of three minutes to try and remember your lock combination. Worry about your dry cleaning later and come on.”

She fought the urge to argue, holding her tongue and falling behind the tall brunette who was now in his casual clothing. ‘He must’ve gone home and come back. He could’ve just called me a cab.’

“Thanks.” She said softly, her worn eyes finding themselves struggling to keep from drifting closed.

“Yeah.” He said, flashing a warm smile, and before she could register where they were, they were already in the parking garage and she was climbing into the passenger seat of his car. She fell asleep sooner than he could pull out of the garage, and he laughed softly to himself.

‘Only she could preach the importance of sleep like it was gospel but find herself sleep-deprived.’ He thought. He glanced over to her sleeping figure, and watched as her chest rose and fell, hair disheveled from the ponytail it was falling out of.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

--

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

[the-witty-pen-name]

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 1

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: angst; cursing; pining; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet) 

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam. 

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts. This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam. 

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning. 

Taglist is in my bio 

You were furious. Without even thinking, you picked up your phone and found him in your contact list. You were fuming, needing to find out what happened so you could help him. You hadn’t talked to him since Tony Stark’s funeral, and you had found out through Banner that Steve had gifted him the shield. You psych yourself out every time you want to reach out and talk to him, but your rage blinded you and took the lead over your usual nervousness.

“What happened?” you ask as soon as the ringing on the other end stops and you know he’s answered. You have the phone balanced on your shoulder as your slipping on your shoes, ready to head out as soon as you can.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, sounding confused. Also, incredibly hurt and rightfully so. You imagined he was watching the same thing as you on television and you thought he’d be as equally mad.

“Sam,” you say, letting out a shaky breath. “The shield.”

There’s nothing but dead air for what feel like forever.

“I gave it up,” he finally answers. You can hear in his voice that there is much more to this than that.

“Are you in D.C.?” you ask, not wanting to push him to talk.

“Delacroix. You don’t have to come-.”

“Can’t come visit a friend?” you ask hopefully. You hear him sigh.

“It’s not a great time,” he says hesitantly.

“Isn’t that when you need friends the most?” you counter, trying to force a happier, more uplifting tone. You try, but you know you still sound miserable. “Please,” you ask again, almost a whisper.

“You’re coming no matter what I say, aren’t you?” he chuckles.

“Pretty much,” you admit, “but I would love it if you actually wanted to see me.”

“You know I would…”

“So that settles it,” you smile, blinking to hold back a couple tears. Your voice breaks just a little. “I’m getting on the first plane I can.”

Before he has a chance to change his mind, you end the call and immediately pack some necessities. You never got out of the habit of always being called off, so many of the things you needed were already packed away in a bag in your closet. It was a comforting thing for you. Like you always had the option to just leave wherever you were. You said it was because of all the times you got pulled away from life because of missions for SHIELD, but it ran a little deeper than that.

God, he’s handsome. That’s the only thing you can think of when you’re finally in front of him again. Your mind is at a complete blank. You should be able to muster up the ability to say something. He’s waiting for you at the airport. You didn’t expect this, but it is Sam. Of course, he was going to meet you when your plane landed. You try your best to clear up the haze in your brain as you walk towards him, and he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he mumbles, resting his head on top of your head as you bury your face in his chest. All hopes you had at a cool, collected front when you saw him disappeared. You missed him too much and had gone too long without admitting it to yourself. Tell him you missed him, tell him you’re happy to see him, say anything…

“I want to help,” you say when you both break away. You inwardly cringe. You can’t vocalize anything except turning this into some mission.

“Please can we not talk about the shield?” he asks, and you realize you’ve clearly hit a sore spot. You nod in agreement, feeling terrible for having brought it up so soon. You didn’t want him to think you were prioritizing the shield over him. That wasn’t the case at all. You came here for him, to see him, why the hell couldn’t you act like it.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, earnestly. You had to pull yourself together.

“I appreciate that you are worried about me,” he says slinging an arm over your shoulder as you walk. It feels nice, effortless. “But I donated the shield and after that, it was out of my hands.”

You know he is leaving out a lot, and you know him well enough to know there’s a deeper issue. But, for now, you decide to table it. He tells you about his nephews, and he fills you in on how he’s been able to spend time with them, and it feels so beautifully normal. The world feels like it’s falling apart around you but there’s Sam, pulling you back in like he was always able to do.

“I missed you,” he admits, after there’s a lull in the conversation driving to the house. “I thought maybe I would’ve seen you at the compound, or something before you left after the funeral.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” you try to gloss over. “I just- After Steve came and said goodbye, I couldn’t stay. It just hurt too much.”

“Steve told you?”

“Not exactly, just a very vague goodbye, but I was able to read between the lines. I knew he wasn’t coming back.”

“What did he say?”

“Just that he wanted to go back and fix things. If he couldn’t have done it here, he wanted a second chance. To get back the time lost. Save Bucky, find Nat, maybe visit Peggy… He just wasn’t ready to stop yet. There was no fight here left, so he went back chasing the ones he felt like he lost?”

He nods, just taking in the information. He tells you about seeing Steve when he came back, about how he got married. He tells you about how Steve gave him the shield, but he thought the right decision was to donate the shield to the Smithsonian. You don’t try to do anything else but listen, and try your best to understand. But hearing Sam not think he could take on the title was heartbreaking. You want to ask him if he regrets it, if he wants to get the shield back, but for now, you know it isn’t the right time. Just tell him you missed him too, please. You can’t do it. The words get stuck in the back of your throat. Why is this so hard?

“Remember when we met?” you ask, looking aimlessly out the window.

“You mean when you drop kicked me at an airport?” he asks with a laugh.

“No- I mean, yes that happened first technically,” you smile. “I was more so thinking about the first time we spoke after that.”

“You mean when you came with Steve to get us out of prison?” he asks, skeptically.

“The very time,” you grin.

“I’m pretty sure the only thing you said was stay low and keep out of my way, if I remember correctly,” he raised an eyebrow.

“No, no in the jet,” you clarify, “Before we went into hiding.”

You sat on the floor across from Sam, you had pulled your torso out of your tactical suit, and had the arms of it tied around your waist. The SHIELD t-shirt you wore underneath was covered in sweat and grime. You rested your head against the cold metal of the plane’s ship and your eyes wandered to Sam.

“Pararescue?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking over his equipment that Steve brought with you.

“SR,” you reply. “Well, was.”

“You were Special Reconnaissance?” he asks, and you nod.

“Three tours.”

“Is that why you changed sides?” He continues and you can’t help but smile.

“I guess you can look at it that way.”

“I’m Sam.”

“I know.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” he chuckles, crossing his arms, relaxing a bit more. You smirk.

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sam. Sorry about beating your ass.”

“You got lucky, SR,” he scoffs, and you laugh.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Wilson,” you laugh.

“You’re lucky we’re on the same side now,” he jokes.

“Oh, I know,” you smile. You get up and head to the cockpit to join Steve.

“I told you that the two of you would hit it off,” he chuckles as you slide into the copilot seat.

“You bring me along just to set me up, Rogers?” you scoff. His cheeks redden a little.

“You know that’s not true…”

“Ugh, you’re just as bad as Natasha, Steve,” you roll your eyes.

“You have shared life experience.”

“He is gorgeous.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Don’t even think about it Rogers,” you gasp.

Before you know it, Sam is pulling up to your Airbnb.

“Come by the house tomorrow,” he says, and you nod. “I want to bring you somewhere.”

“Yeah,” you agree, as you get out of the car. It was already late, and you denied Sam’s offer to get dinner. You were exhausted, and you were still in the clothes you were wearing when you left your apartment suddenly. You needed to shower, sleep, and then your visit with him would start. You also were nervous. You could tell he was a little disappointed when you declined his offer but he understood.

“We’ll get some beers and talk about the good old days tomorrow. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, rubbing the top of your hand reassuringly.

“Good old days?” you tease.

“We’ll talk about Scotland,” he grins, “The good parts.”

“The good parts,” you affirm. You try to think about what he means but you let yourself put it out of your brain for now. “I’ll be by first thing.”

“I am really glad you’re here,” he reiterates once more before you disappear into the small house. You don’t have the courage to admit you feel the same.

When you close the door behind you, you look out the curtain and watch as Sam drives away. Your mind runs rampant with just all the things on your mind. The shield. Sam. Being here with Sam. Having to talk about feelings and memories with Sam. Scotland. How you fell in love with Sam Wilson in Scotland.

You worry coming here was a mistake.  

Part Two

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