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hellomynameisghostface · 6 months

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Who Was The Best Ghostface?

Ranking all Ghostface killers from the "Scream" movies in order of who was the best at being Ghostface, in my opinion. Taking into account a few factors; who had the better motives, how much they contributed to the attacks/killings, how far they got in their plan and how well they executed it and possibly some other factors. Some might out way the others but I'll try to explain my thoughts as best I can. So let's get started. 13. Jason Carvey: while his motive was fine, it wasn't one of the better ones. It was just a continuation of Amber and Richie's pretty much. However, since he was one of the opening kills it makes sense why they wouldn't waste a good motive on him and Greg. The fact he was found out and killed so quickly proves he's the worst Ghostface so far though.

12. Richie Kirsch: this really depends on how you watch and analyze "Scream V" but from my point of view, Richie didn't kill anyone. The only confirmed attacks to be him were Sam and Mindy which both failed. The directors have already said in interviews that he barley did any of the work and Sam even mentions in "Scream VI" that "he made his girlfriend do all the killing." Like many fans of the franchise, you may be thinking "how could she possibly know that?" It's not that hard to figure out when for most of the movie/attacks Richie was with Sam or close by and with Gale's investigation instincts she could've easily found out where Amber and Richie were most of the time. Example: going to the hotel Richie was at and asking when he arrived there and if he left would help figure out if he actually participated in the killing of Judy and Wes. He basically let someone much younger than him do all the dirty work and pull the strings while thinking he was in charge the whole time. It would've been different if he betrayed her in the end like a couple of other who made it higher on this list but he never even got the chance. His motive was good though but not good enough to save him from being this low on my list.

11. Stu Macher: okay, I know this is going to piss people off because he's one of the originals and a fan favorite so everyone hold him up on a pedestal along with Billy but again, like Richie, I guess it really depends on how you view the movie. Stu does the least amount of work and on top of all that he makes the mistake of trusting his partner and by doing so is almost killed and betrayed by him. Roman even mentions in "Scream 3" that he suggested Billy get a partner to frame in case he's caught. I have no doubt in my mind if they were successful that Stu would've ended up dead or in jail anyway.

10. Quinn Bailey: she was a pretty decent Ghostface but honestly, I don't know how far she would've gotten if her father wasn't a detective or helping her. Faking her death was smart because not only does it take her off the suspect list but it allows her to do kills while her father and brother get alibis but again, without her father being a detective it would've made it much harder executing her fake death so because of that she still pretty low on my list but higher then they others because she actually did a decent amount of the dirty work and wasn't betrayed by her partners. Although it's widely disliked in this fandom, I actually liked their motive and the fact that it was a family seeking revenge, not just a parent or sibling.

9. Ethan Landry: I decided to put Ethan a place higher than his sister because he seemed more aggressive and willing to me. He killed Quinn's hookup and then proceeded to take on three people (Sam, Mindy and Anika) at once and wounding two of them and then killing one of them. While not factual, I think he would have made it further without his father's help than Quinn did because while Wayne was the brains behind it I feel like he didn't help Ethan quite as much as Quinn.

8. Wayne Bailey: since he was the mastermind and brains behind these attacks I think it's fair to place him above his kids. Being a detective put him at a higher advantage as well. Not only was he an aggressive Ghostface but I think his plan was well thought through and executed fairly well and as already mentioned, I actually really like their motive even if it's just another version of Nancy's motive from "Scream 2."

7. Billy Loomis: his motive was to kill Maureen because she was sleeping his his father causing his mother to abandoned them. Which would've been okay if it stopped there but he kept going. It would've made sense if he tortured Sidney while Maureen was still alive. Since she's dead, what's the point? Sidney didn't do anything. At this point their just doing it for fun, I guess? Which is fine, I guess. I can look past that. What puts him kind of low on my list is that he and Stu start stabbing each other to paint themselves as victims before they kill Sidney and Neil. He was carrying out his plan pretty well before that. He killed Maureen, framed Cotton and got away with it for a whole year which is why I let him be a little higher on my list than I originally wanted him to be.

6. Charlie Walker: this is another one that kind of depends on how you view and analyze the movie but in my opinion, Charlie kills everyone in "Scream 4" besides Trevor. With that, he's already a great Ghostface but what knocks him down to seventh place for me is that he was so blinded by his infatuation for Jill that he trusted her to wound him instead of doing it himself, leading to her betraying him and ultimately resulting to his death.

5. Mickey Altieri: I'm putting Mickey right before Charlie because they're situations are very similar. While Nancy helped Mickey more than Jill helped Charlie, I think Mickey still did most of the dirty work but mostly because he wanted to since it's implied he was already a serial killer prior to the event of "Scream 2." Like Charlie he was betrayed by his partner but unlike Charlie it wasn't due to him being blinded by love or anything like that. It was rather sudden and caught him off guard. Ultimately, trusting a stranger and it leading to him being betrayed and almost murdered instead of staying on guard and killing her first loses him points. Plus, his motive was stupid and I didn't like it at all.

4. Nancy Loomis: her motive is rather simple but it's one of the better ones: good old fashioned revenge. She was also smart enough to get someone on the inside (Mickey) because she obviously couldn't been seen by Sidney. She was also partnered with someone who was already a serial killer so it was smart of her to kill him before he could turn on her. Plus, his motive would've more than likely fucked her over which she was very much aware of.

3. Amber Freeman: as I already mentioned when talking about Richie, I believe Amber did all the killing (or at the very least, most.) The directors/writes have basically confirmed in on and off screen that she was the mastermind but let Richie believe he was in charge and did most of the work. She wasn't manipulated into doing the killing, she wanted to and you can see that with how excited she gets after her reveal. She was the one who informed Richie Sam was the daughter of Billy Loomis and she more than likely told him to take Tara's inhaler because the spare one was at her house and she knew Tara would have to go there to get it (Richie literally says "I can't believe this worked" as if he doubted Amber.) Amber also killed a legacy character and wounded the other two. She took on Sidney and Gale, two full grown women, at the same time and even though she ultimately ended up dying she did some damage. Her motive was 10/10 for me. I don't know why people hate it because they literally sound like Amber and Richie complaining about it. She was a child carrying a full grown man. That's embarrassing, which is why Richie is so low but it's iconic for Amber to accomplish so much for being so young.

2. Roman Bridger: he was the only Ghostface to go solo which means he did all the work. He deserves the recognition doing it all himself and getting as close as he did. He also technically started it all by convincing Billy to kill Maureen. I know a lot of people, including the cast, thought it was random for Roman to be Sidney's brother but I think it makes so much sense and I think they executed it well. The storyline wasn't anymore random than Billy having a daughter that no one knew about for years but Amber found out like nothing.

1. Jill Roberts: in my opinion, she is the smartest Ghostface and quite frankly the best when it comes to planning and getting away with it. Sure, she made Charlie do all the Ghostface killings and kills only Trevor and her partner but that's the genius part. Her goal was to become the new Sidney so she had to keep her hands clean as much as possible. She was the only one smart enough to not let her partner wound her and instead betrayed him before he could her. She killed everyone (or so she thought) before beating the shit out of herself and making herself look like the victim. She's the one who got the closest to killing Sidney and getting away with it and shes the only Ghostface to not scream like a maniac when she “comes back” after being seemingly killed. Her motive was 10/10. I remember watching "Scream 4" for the first time and thinking how relevant it was at the time and it's only gotten more relevant with time.

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incesthemes · 4 months

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so the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell.

and i want to postulate on this concept of the righteous man. both john and dean are considered by this prophecy to be "righteous men," and of course they are both candidates for michael's vessel. it's in their blood.

but at the same time, this is a destiny that must still be fulfilled. action is required to create a righteous man—aka, they have to be sent to hell in the first place. they have to become worthy of being michael's vessel through their participation in starting the apocalypse.

john dies in 201. he's at peace; he's accepted the terms of his deal, and he's accepted his fate. his soul and the colt for dean's life.

there are two conflicts presented across season 1:

the first is on the topic of revenge. ultimately, the conclusion is that revenge is pointless, it will lead to no positive outcome—the past has already happened, and once blood is spilled there's no getting out of it, no stopping. knowing what happened to her brother didn't make kathleen feel better about his death. max killing his family didn't make his pain go away.

the second is on the topic of family. it's a more subtle theme, i guess, suggesting that family will invite destruction to everyone around them. the tagline "the good of the many outweighs the good of the one" is proven to be erroneous and ruinous: by choosing the family, by choosing to protect loved ones, great harm will inevitably come to the outsiders. we see this foreshadowed in 111; we see this exemplified when dean shoots and kills an innocent man in 121.

so choosing revenge and choosing family are both bad choices. but the conflict of season 1 is revenge vs family—sam as the protagonist has to choose one or the other. he's not given a third option.

john, however, finds that third option. he abandons his quest for revenge by relinquishing the colt to azazel, and he abandons his family by sacrificing himself. the act of sacrifice is seen as a selfish one (see: crossroad blues), one committed by a man who cares more about his own feelings than that of the person he saved. this is the recurring narrative throughout seasons 2 and 3—it's not something that john did for his son, it's something he did for himself. and in fact, his act of sacrifice puts sam and dean in more danger by leaving them without a weapon to combat azazel and without any of john's knowledge about the demon or sam's fate.

he doesn't choose revenge. he apparently doesn't choose family. he found the third option: he removed himself from the story.

so he managed to choose both "correct" options: he avoided ruin by abandoning his revenge, and he avoided ruin by abandoning his family. and he went to hell.

he became a righteous man, set to break the first seal to the apocalypse.

dean ends up following these exact steps at the end of season 2—the difference is that doing so is dean's fate and not necessarily john's. the other difference is dean is not at peace with his decision to die. john went to hell but he had accepted it. he was ready and willing to go, and he took what was given to him. even in all hell breaks loose, he's happy and serene in death, in hell. it's his commitment to his actions that separate dean and john.

but dean, through sam's influence, second-guesses himself, and his own shame and hypocrisy stir within him doubt and uncertainty. he doesn't want to die; he doesn't want to go to hell. when he gets there, he screams out for sam, wanting to be saved.

dean breaks. john doesn't.

obviously dean going to hell and breaking the seal was part of his destiny—that much is obvious. but i think it's important that it's dean's actions and decisions that lead him down that path, that he's not a passive receptor for his fate. it doesn't happen to him; he chooses it. sam has to act and decide in order to fulfill his destiny, so dean should be beholden to that same thing. which is why i like this interpretation that it's this selfish sacrifice that creates a righteous man—by dean's own hands he creates his destiny and starts the apocalypse.

john was able to escape this because he's not faced with the same conflict dean is. he's able to find peace and take himself out of the story, choosing both "correct" options and being okay with those decisions. dean makes those same "correct" decisions as john (in dean's case, the conflict he is given is not revenge vs family but duty vs family, and he abandons his duty and his family all the same), but he lacks the conviction that john has. he can't remove himself from the story, he's filled with doubt and unresolved tension, he can't let go fully. there is no peace in dean's story, and the righteous man broke.

and as he breaks, so shall it break.

#supernatural #dean winchester #john winchester #spn meta #2.01 #2.22 #spn2 #i hope i explained my thoughts well here. i've been going crazy over it for like 2 weeks now i think #the tldr is that even though dean selling his soul was part of his destiny he still had to earn that destiny through his choices and action #and my theory is that he earns the right to his destiny to become a righteous man by making the 'correct' decisions just like john did #this is congruous with how sam pursues his own destiny between season 3 and season 4 with ruby #when sam and dean lose their brother they will spiral down the path to their destinies #and they make choices in their grief which bring them closer and closer to their ultimate fate #so dean selling his soul is the direct equivalent of sam drinking demon blood #etc etc etc #ok anyway i'm going back to typing notes. i hope to god this makes sense and i don't just sound like a lunatic #.txt #spn posting

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bonesandthebees · 2 years

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Okay, I am waking up to bad comments so let me start my day with some Glass analysis. First off, I have not read the comments and I probably won’t be reading them cuz they sound very upsetting. I do think that the main problem is that Tommy calling Wilbur by name against his will is triggering people’s personal trauma. That probably causes them to project onto Wilbur (this fandom has a tendency to do that, which is part of why c!Wilbur was villainized to such an extent, but let's not get into that). The upset over Wulbkr being ‘deadnamed’ then causes them to miss the nuance you put into the chapter.

That’s something very fun about fanfic. It’s an interactive medium. You see our reactions to every chapter and you can adjust accordingly. So I feel like because of the backlash on last chapter, there’s a lot more reference to Wilbur trying to kill Tommy. Now that might have been there anyway, but it feels highlighted to me because I know that’s something a lot of people are willing to forget.

I think both Sam and Tubbo bring up the murder attempt and how little time has passed. There’s an open discussion about Tommy’s safety. Heck it’s so obvious he’s scared when Wilbur doesn’t answer him in the morning and expects another abuse when he opens the door. Phil comes rushing in because they are shooting at each other and he thinks Tommy got attacked again. (also, it takes him a while, did it just take that long for them to get loud enough so he could hear or did Phil fall asleep at the door and only just wake up?).

Anyway, I think there a misconception that because Tommy forgives Wilbur and acts like it’s not a big deal (same with Niki and Jack) that it was okay. Tommy forgiving Wilbur doesn’t mean it never happened. There are still consequences to those actions like the night guards and general distrust. Tommy forgiving him does not make it okay. Tommy being used to near-death experiences does not make it okay. And this one’s just for glass!Tommy himself: the fact that he was desperate or feels bad about it does not make it okay!

Also, is everyone just missing that Wilbur likes being called his name? Like they beat the name out of him. He did not give it up willingly. So the years of trauma and dehumanisation are making this difficult. He is convinced he should not be called a name. Yet the bird in his chest picks up at hearing it. Yet the bird is sad when Tommy doesn’t use his name. It hurts, not because he doesn’t want to be called his name (subconsciously that is), but because it’s been so long since someone used it and he missed being called his name. Even if he didn’t realise it before, he can now no longer ignore it. Which triggers more religious trauma.

-🌲

SPRUCEEEE hi good morning welcome to the shitshow on my blog. definitely avoid the comments. most are very sweet and nice but there are just a few bad ones that bummed me out earlier (but then all my very kind anons popped in here and cheered me up so i'm better now)

I definitely agree that I think part of it is an issue with projection. I straight up wasn't even thinking of the name thing as a deadname so it didn't occur to me until after I started seeing comments on it, but it makes sense in retrospect why some people would connect it to that. then like you said it can overshadow the rest of the nuance in the story which just creates a whole host of problems as a result

you're right that I adjusted the chapter according to the reactions of last chapter. partly with the reminders about wilbur nearly killing tommy only a week earlier, but also the flashbacks about the pythia training wilbur not to use his name. after we both saw the reactions to the previous chapter, my dear friend eli suggested that I include some flashbacks of that to emphasize how it wasn't his choice to give up his name, which I thought was a really smart idea hence why it got thrown in there. fanfic is definitely a fun interactive medium like that which is also another reason why I enjoy these anon messages so much. it gives me a great idea what you guys are thinking as the story goes on so i can adjust things if needed.

also i'm so glad you noticed that tommy is still scared!! just because he forgave wilbur doesn't mean it's okay. he was freaked out when wilbur didn't say anything, and was nervous when he opened the door that wilbur was going to attack him again. he wants to think that wilbur isn't going to do anything again, but he doesn't know for sure. even if he's used to dealing with death, the attack left some mental scars on tommy that aren't just erased since he's decided not to hold a grudge about it.

also, phil was kind of dozing off but he wasn't fully asleep. it just took a few back and forths for tommy and wilbur to get loud enough for phil to hear them through the door.

ok now for my favorite part of your ask. I hope you know the second I read that last paragraph I literally just mouthed THANK YOU at my computer over and over again because I was so relieved someone noticed it

wilbur LIKES being called his name. he can't admit that to himself because of the brainwashing, but deep down he really enjoys hearing tommy say his name again. the bird perks up hearing it. when tommy asks him if it's really just a sound to him, he can't answer. it hurts because he was trained to associate it with hurt, but he wants it so badly. he just can't even acknowledge that as a truth. I'm so so relieved you saw this. I think I'm gonna have to make it a bit more obvious next chapter though lmao

#ask #spruce anon #through a glass divine

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urmindisastreamofcolors · 3 years

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Back Off: Jake x Reader

A/N: I have writer’s block for part two of the twin’s fight sooo enjoy this one shot until then :)

Your management teams had decided it was a good idea for your band to collaborate with Greta Van Fleet. At first, you all had agreed until it became apparent that you and Jake would never get along. The first week went by pretty well as you all worked on lyrics and different songs, giving each other feedback. When you made a suggestion about a riff Jake was working on, he rolled his eyes and ignored you entirely. You didn’t let it bother you and tried to let it roll off your back, but the thought the Jake wasn’t impressed by your talent or valued your input bothered you a bit.

At the start of the next week, your band recorded an EP track to see how you liked it. After you had finished, all of you sat down to talk through what could be done to improve it and make it award worthy. The constructive process was going well until Sam complimented your riff. Before you could offer your thanks, Jake let out a small sarcastic laugh before leaning back.

“What,” you said with a touch of venom as you narrowed your eyes at him. Not being one to back down from a challenge he returned the glare and licked his lips before speaking.

“Nothing,” Jake said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders before stretching his arms along the back of the couch he was sitting on, Josh on his left and Danny to his right. Your band mates shared looks of confusion with the other boys at the stare down they were all witnessing.

“Nothing,” you questioned with a lift of your brow matching his energy.

“Yeah. That riff? Made me feel nothing. That was just music on a page.”

Stunned silence filled the room and everyone’s mouths dropped open at the sudden and rude comment. Your mind started racing.

That riff wasn’t there until you had all performed today. In fact, it was a completely organic composition. You didn’t know how to write a riff and you couldn’t even read fucking sheet music. You only knew how to play.

Before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet and so was Jake. Both of you were yelling at each other and really giving each other hell. Finally, the rest of the group got you separated, but the damage had already been done.

The fighting didn’t stop as a whole, but after Danny lost his shit, the yelling eventually did. You both still found the time to be sarcastic assholes and refused to work together unless absolutely forced. On the rare occasions you two didn’t try to kill each other, whatever you came up with was pretty cool, but those moments were short lived. After about a month of the group collaboration, your management teams informed all of you that they had lined up an interview and stressed the importance of it.

“We know some of you...don’t see eye to eye,” your manager, Kara, said carefully while everyone looked directly at you and Jake,”but you’re going to be in partners for this interview and we’re grouping you based on instrument.”

“See, vocals are an instrument Sam,” Josh taunted while his youngest brother rolled his eyes.

You and Jake shared a pained look at the thought of having to sit near each other.

“Do we have to get along during the interview,” you asked as you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

“Yes. You do. So, Josh and Kaylie will go first on Friday. Sammi and Sammy will go next. Then, Danny and Elise. We’ll finish up with y/n and Jake. The interviews should only be 5-10 minutes, so please refrain from killing each other,” Mike, the other manager said. You and Jake shared another look; one that clearly said there were no promises.

The week flew by and next thing you knew, you were sitting in a hair and makeup chair getting finishing touches done. All of your other friends had finished and based off their laughter, it seemed to have went really well. Apparently, your Sammi and Greta Van Fleet’s Sammy were pure chaos which didn’t surprise any of you. It must have had something to do with the name you supposed.

Once you had finished up, you made your way to the chair next to Jake who was waiting on you and apparently trying hard to not look impatient. When he saw you, his eyes widened a bit before he motioned to your seat. Once you had gotten comfortable, he sat down.

“Sorry,” you said to him quietly. This was actually the first time you two had sat next to each other and you could smell his cologne and shampoo. He was an ass to you, but you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. But his attitude? Atrocious.

You fidgeted slightly in your seat to get comfortable for the interview. Suddenly, you both heard the countdown to cue you in and you both began to smile and do the intro.

“Hi! I’m y/f/n y/l/n!”

“And I’m Jake Kiszka!”

“This is our Rockin and Rolling Interview,” you two chorused together. Apparently, you two could be a dynamic duo when you tried hard enough.

The interviewer started asking various questions about stage outfits, hair and makeup, new albums and tour dates which were pretty typical interview topics. You and Jake played your parts and were both equally surprised at your shared sense of humor. You were enjoying yourself when the prying questions started.

When the interview started, you didn’t really notice that weird glimmer in the male interviewer’s eyes or the way he stared at your exposed legs or where the hem of your shorts hit on your thighs. Jake had noticed that a lot of the questions were directed more towards you and he figured it was just to help your band get out there more. More importantly, none of the others had mention weird vibes or the guy being a creep, but you couldn’t deny that you were inexplicably uncomfortable.

“So, y/n, what is it like being single and working with the guys,” the interviewer asked. Your back went ramrod straight as you realized you were cruising in dangerous territory. Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“What does her relationship status have to do with anything,” Jake asked with his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion and the beginning stages of irritability. The next few questions were about zodiac sign compatibility and other flirtatious avenues of discussion and you were finally 100% sure that he was making you uncomfortable. At one point he had asked for how many people you had slept with.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable answering such personal questions. I think I’m-,” you began to say as you stood up to place the microphone down. Before you could even fully raise out of your set, the interviewer had grabbed you by your arm and yanked your body towards his. You let out a yelp as a warm muscular body wedged itself between you and the weird ass interviewer.

Jake placed a protective hand on your stomach and pushed you back gently putting more space between you and who he perceived as a threat. Without thinking, you put your hand in the middle of his back, right on his spine as you scooted further behind him.

“Back off,” Jake growled out with a scowl. Before the guy could respond, Jake spun to face you, placing his hand in the small of your back before leading you away. You were shaking and tears pricked at your lower lash line, but you willed yourself not to cry.

When you two had made it back to the makeup room where you had all gotten ready, everyone jumped up when they say the look on both of your faces. Kara and Mike tried to ask questions as you grabbed your things, clearly ignoring them.

“We’re leaving right now and that interview had better not fucking air,” Jake practically yelled as he fumed. You two could hear the male interviewer approaching the room you all were in and Jake turned to face the door quickly, blocking you from his view.

“Get him away from her or I’m going to rock his fucking shit. We’re leaving. Now.”

Nobody else held up your mad dash for the SUV outside waiting and already running. Once you were safely secure between, Jake and Josh in the middle row you put your head in your hands while questions flew your way.

“What happened?!”

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Why were you going to deck him, Jake,” Danny finally questioned and everyone sat in stunned silence that Jake had threatened to hurt someone over you. You were still shaken up and felt a sense of relief when Jake took over telling the story.

All you could really think about was his hand in the small of your back and hot he looked pissed. Even more than that, the first feelings of fondness for Jake danced in your stomach. It felt a lot like butterflies.

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake gvf x reader #greta van fleet oneshots #greta van fleet #jake oneshot

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therenlover · 3 years

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In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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thebleedingeffect · 3 years

Text

This is all analysis based off dreams escape from pandoras fault! More specifically the relationship between Dream and Techno and how Dream's actions might've irreversibly harmed their relationship down the line.

First and foremost, Techno's character is one who believes in fairness, reparation of debts, kindness, and the destruction of tyrannical forces, all coming together to make Techno willing to save Dream in the first place. Even so, Techno displayed an incredible amount of worry and care towards the other syndicate members, worrying and asking about Niki at several points, refusing again for Philza to join him in doing something extremely dangerous, and outright refusing to leave Ranboo behind and worrying about him vocally nearly the entire time.

Techno cares, he cares so very much, and his actions speak that tenfold in that he holds the entirety of the syndicate very close to him and that any attack or threat to them is something that he personally is upset and even angered by.

Which is why Dream's actions during the prison break just might've greatly soured and maybe even burned bridges between them some time in the future.

At first Dream went along with Techno saying they had to get Ranboo as well but as time went on he repeatedly suggested they leave him behind, come back to rescue him later, it's safer and smarter this way. All the way culminating in Dream refusing to step down or even help Techno in rescuing Ranboo from Sam, losing not only a canon life- but his last life. Everything about Techno's character is that he's not one to leave behind his debts or allies, but more than anything, he's willing to put his own safety and life in danger if it means saving the ones he truly cares for. Techno refused to leave the fight and was greatly distressed as to why Ranboo wasn't fighting back and taking off his armor, repeatedly asked Sam to back up, all at the same time of Dream telling him to run.

But that's simply not the person Techno is, he would sooner burn himself trying to save the ones he loves than letting them burn alive.

By refusing to not only help Techno talk Sam down, but also- repeatedly wanting to leave Ranboo behind, arguing with Sam and refusing to help Ranboo whatsoever, and Techno fighting Sam immediately after Ranboo's death and getting the picture of Michael- Dream made an incredibly bad call based on his own survival instinct and the belief of caring for nothing that he's drilled into himself. Maybe Dream couldn't have stopped Sam, maybe Ranboo would've died no matter what, but the fact that Dream didn't want to try and instead wanted to run away? That's the very antithesis of Techno's attitude towards those he loves.

The very antithesis of the attitude that Techno had when he rescued Dream himself and at no point did Techno try to throw Dream in harms way to make it easier or safer.

Only after fighting Sam for a bit did he leave and while Dream was ecstatic to be free, it's clear that Philza and Techno both were beginning to grieve and Techno was still in shock and didn't share the same happiness. Which resulted in Techno asking for the armor back despite Dream's belief that they were friends. And maybe they were! Maybe it was the beginning of their potential friendship! But by sacrificing someone that he was already friends with and that he loved? That sent a clear message to Techno, afterwards saying that Dream had to leave and that they weren't hiding, because Techno is mad and grieving.

Techno even said he wasn't bothering with hiding as his main enemy now is Sam, the person who held Ranboo hostage and killed him, the person who took his last life when Techno had no idea he was on his last life. Because Techno and Ranboo are friends, even family, and he's someone that only feels grief in the wake of repaying his own debt.

Not only that! But he actively goes into debt to Dream so that he might resurrect Ranboo! Because all that he's angry and upset- he's willing to put that aside and possibly put himself in even more danger if it means he can get Ranboo back.

Because Ranboo is part of the syndicate, he's part of Techno’s family and home.

#dsmp analysis #dsmp meta #c!techno analysis #c!dream analysis #rivalsblr #their relationship is so freaking interesting to me i love it #im not a dream anti. pro. or really anything like that. i just like analyzing his character!#dream is really in that fight or flight mindset rn lmao #anyway techno my BELOVED MWAH MWAH LOVE YOU #thebleedingeffect talks

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please reblog

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lostinanothersmemories · 3 years

Note

Okay but what if Quinn turns yandere for Darlin-

-🍀

AHH YES I LOVE YANDERE TROPES let me ramble

Yandere themes, kinda suggestive? very messed up ways of thinking and mentions of blood

They didn't notice it at first it was just pleads of them to stay in bed when the sun stubbornly rose each morning. Apologies sent to a half asleep vampire as he tries to pull them back into bed. It became routine for Quinn to greet them at the door. They forget the fact they never really gave him a key but he promised he technically never broke in so they let worry flow off them.

They didn't notice the way his chilled hands coiled around their heart around each bit of them until they couldn't imagine another but him.

They realized what it was the moment after one simple word. The moment they called him a monster his ears narrowed. "So are you going to leave?" His head tilted as if this whole argument didn't matter like he didn't nearly kill someone.

They should have known better when they confirmed his suspicious and started to walk away. When he grabbed their waist pulling them away from the door, tried to pull out the soft voice he only used when he tried to pull them back to bed. "Please stay." They didn't see his eyes fight off going entirely black when they retort back that "You were right when I met you, you aren't lovable let go of me I never want to see you again."

He was burning from the inside out, every moment without them felt like dying all over again. Of course he got angry, watching them smile and laugh with some unempowered human? What does a weakling have that he doesn't? Despite the ache it caused he abandoned his watch over them in favor of following the traitors little pet. A bug waiting to be squashed and well something needed to take the rest of his anger. The look in their eyes was the worst part, fear shifting to anger. Their blood spilled together in a beautiful concoction their whines as they were trapped back underneath them where they had always looked best.

He hated running but they weren't holding back an ounce far too willing to end him there and then.

Time passes stubbornly, they go back to Washington, he knows it made them feel comfortable to be aware from the requirement of pack relations. The poor thing was so foolish though, they were awfully clumsy so often, practically leaving a trail for him to follow. Or were they asking for him to come with? Sure they never mentioned bringing him up to Washington but they never said what they wanted anyways, he can read in between their lines.

He protected them as much as they would allow really keeping enough away to protect them without being caught. Stubbornly they go back to Dahlia, even though that pack of mutts don't care, how could they care they didn't know them.

It was the other blood sucker that really pissed him off. Okay sure maybe he nearly killed some kids but really? They were going to team up with a stranger just because some southern pansy got scared and made a bad decision?

The sun has to come up eventually, Quinn knows them better knows their apartment it's both of theirs home. Their place with a greedy little healer between them. Sam has things to attend to things he put above them, how could anything go above them? Sam didn't deserve them, he did he proved it everytime, he only did all of this to keep them.

With the sun up Sam will take longer will give him time. He kept his contacts after all. He watches them toss the take out containers toss stuff into the dishwasher and wander back to the couch. Falling onto their back covering their eyes despite the fact the curtains were closed.

Beautiful

His helpful little stealth friend leads him closer he's near breathless at the sight. After so long they are his once more. He wastes no time letting go of them and straddling their waist. Without hesitation they move to fight off whatever they think is on them. But he can see right through them pushing their hands above them

"Hush dear it'll be alright I promise. Just let the nice lady help you sleep."

The panic is a familiar sight but one that will be broken out of them in time. When the stealth touches their temple they can only fight it for so long before becoming limp. He orders them to take care of the phone as he cradles them in his arms.

"I'll protect you. You know I just want you safe, safe from those who just want to hurt you."

#redacted asmr #...darlin #...quinn

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stuckybarton · 3 years

Text

Unintentional Father V

SUMMARY: Steve Rogers had always liked you, from the first time you had stepped foot in the Avengers Compound, to your no-nonsense perspective in the world. Never taking shit from anyone, especially Tony; everyone liked you, liked your son who you bring along from time to time upon the request of Pepper Stark and many of the women in the compound. So how was it possible that he was here talking to Director Fury with you, and the small little fact that he was the father of your adorable blue eyed baby. How was that even possible when he couldn’t even ask you out on a date properly? CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers x Reader; son!OMC (Grant); Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes; Pepper Potts WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Possible Smut(?) Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,406 A/N; Another short one, but it's finally moving in the direction I have it planned for a while. MASTERLIST || Joing the Taglist

Playlist I was listening to while writing this. Boop.

Part 5: Injuries and Hidden Enemies

In the eyes of every single individual that had known Steve Rogers for as long as they had, it was a rare sight to see him so out of control, ready to kill a man if it means ensuring the safety of his family. Morals be damned.

"Steve."

A little more, he knew he can snap the man's neck in half. But your voice was stopping him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Having you see him in his most vulnerable state, a state where he was willing to discard his own moral compass and beliefs. A state where he was more than willing to kill if it means keeping his family safe.

"Stevie. Listen to me." Turning to you, your tear stricken eyes have him tensed.

"Steve, look at me." Your voice had slowly brought him back from an action he could not turn back from. "Please, don't do this."

It took him a moment and for the man he was choking struggling to breath before he finally let's him go and wraps you into his arms.

Taking your scent in, momentarily he tried to calm himself. His hands found themselves slotted around your hips pulling you closer to him. Giving him more reason to believe you were here, in one piece, and away from harm.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against your head before turning to the man that aside from rubbing onto his already bruising neck from his chokehold, didn't seem as much bothered as he would have believed him to be.

"It's okay. I'm okay. Grant is okay." You assured him, your own hands resting against his back, rubbing circle against his tactical suited back. "Sergei saved Grant when me and Sam couldn't."

"Sergei?" turning his attention back to you, brows raised at an unknown man that would be responsible for his son.

"That would be me." The man he had been choking finally chimed in.

Steve refused to acknowledge the man, he still couldn't trust him. The first time he had seen the man, he always had this feeling of the man constantly watching over him even if he had only seen him once.

His attention was instead turning to Fury, having worked for him as long as he had, he knew he had something to do with this.

"Agent Sergei Volkov is the man I had posted in your apartment when you two moved out of the compound."

He wasn't the least surprised with Fury's admission, but it didn't make him any less angry for what happened. What the government or HYDRA had done, to shake away the bliss in the life he had hope to separate from his line of work as part of the Avengers.

"What happened?"

"The Government has accidentally leaked to the public that you were Ms. Y/L/N's son's father." Sergei explained. "It was just by chance that I saw the number of reporters both in the reception and the handful that had slipped past security."

Steve couldn't breathe. How could they be so careless? Turning to you, your face nestled against his chest as the sobs had once again started to escape your lips.

"I couldn't stop them." You whispered. "One minute me and Sam were in the kitchen readying ourselves with making lunch, another minute Grant was crying his heart out when a stranger with a camera came into the apartment."

Your sobs continued to fill his mind and every single time, he couldn't blame you. He will never blame you or Sam for what had happened. He blamed himself. He wasn't there for you, to protect you and your son when you needed him the most.

Every single day, he was out saving the world, becoming a prominent figure in a better world, but he couldn't save his own family. Save them from the people he had fought every single day. This is what the guilt he knew he can never live with. What if the intruder took his son? What if no one was there to save Grant and it was going to be a cycle Steve was all too familiar with?

What if they use his son, use him the same way they had used Bucky all those years before.

"It's not your fault," Steve assured turning his attention towards Wanda. The bruises on her face as well as Sam's own wasn't just a simple altercation with an intruder. There was something more to this--something that they didn't have the heart to tell you just yet.

"We're going to stay the night here." Steve decides. "I can't trust myself to be in the apartment after what happened."

"Steve--"

"No." He snapped, the panic lacing every words that he was to speaking now. "I wasn't there for you and Grant. I can't trust myself letting us stay back in the apartment after what happened."

He didn't have the heart to argue with you when it comes to this, but if you were stubborn, he'd be fine with arguing with you when it comes to this. But you were to stay here either way--even if it means having him tell FRIDAY to override any chance you had of leaving the compound.

"You're being unreasonable, Rogers." You snapped pulling away from him and walking out of the meeting room without another word.

It took a lot out of Steve to remain where he stood. He needed answers, answers he knew he cannot have while you were in the room. Answers that was more dire than you actually believed it to be.

"That isn't an ordinary reporter with the bruises you all have." Steve pointed out turning his attention now towards the Agent Fury had planted in his apartment complex.

"Three HYDRA Sleeper Agents." Sergei explained turning his attention towards Sam and Wanda. "Had it not been for Maximoff's powers, we wouldn't have found out what they had planned."

"What?" Steve inquired when the man had stopped talking and his attention turned towards the quiet Fury. "What did you find out?" he asked again, voice growing louder than he anticipated.

"A handful of tranquilizer to knock down a horse." Fury reveals. "A handful of rope and coordinates to what we believe is another HYDRA Lab up in Sokovia."

It was worse. Worse than he had actually thought it could be.

"Steve. They didn't plan on just taking Grant. They wanted to take Y/N too."

Even with everyone in the team was trying to have you get checked up, you had refused. Making your way to where Pepper was taking care of Morgan and your own son. He had just stopped crying from where you could see him nestled in the arms of your boss. This was not how you would have liked to spend your day off.

Things had been blurry, one minute you, Sam, and Wanda had been arguing over whether to follow the cooking time instructed on the pasta box or if to just eyeball everything, then the next minute you heard your son crying and you and your son were dragged out of the apartment while Sam and Wanda deal with the intruder.

It was also a relief to find out that the creepy neighbor you had wasn't so much of a creepy but a watchful eye Fury had placed for your own safety as well as your son's own. You never had the opportunity to properly thank the man as well as apologize for the last time you were in the same room together.

"Everything alright now?" Pepper had inquired upon seeing you watching them.

"Steve said we're gonna stay in the compound tonight." You muttered still annoyed with what was going on.

If things were fine just as what Wanda and Sam had assured you, why can't they go back to the apartment. This was something you had tried to comprehend as you continued on watching Pepper with your son. The idea of people coming after your son was still something you refuse to take lightly, but was it the case here? Was there something they weren't telling you?

Fury was able to hide the fact that he had someone watching over you, watching over you and over your son.

"I think it's better if you two stay back here in the Compound." Pepper points out with an understanding smile. "With how everything was going on right now, it's better to let the press and media die down, even for Grant's sake."

Nodding your head. There was nothing more you can do, everyone wanted you three to stay. Sighing you joined them and decided to talk about something else work-related, just to stop talking about the events earlier on.

It had worked for the past ten minutes, but your mind brought you back to the possibilities. What could have happened if you didn't think too much of Grant's cries as anything more than hunger, what would the reporter have done to your son. Just the idea of having to tell Steve that harm had come to your son, it brought a dangerous pit in your stomach.

You wouldn't be able to face Steve if it ever happens. After every assurance and small arguments you had with Steve about your safety as well as your son's, You wouldn't be able to keep your own word. The sick feeling in your stomach and in your head finally came to a full swing as you stood right up mid conversation and sought for the nearest bathroom to expel this morning's breakfast.

Stress was never a good combination with your anxiety it seems. As you continued to heave against the pristine toilet. Counting to ten before you found yourself puking once again until nothing was left but the taste of acid against you tongue and had your puking yet again.

"Y/N?"

You didn't need to turn to know it was Steve, once again worry you had learned he could be for your sake as well as for Grant's. The comfort of his large hands on top of your shoulders eased away a fraction. Leaning your back against his chest, you felt a little better even with the two of your now settled on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

"I'm fine." It was a lie, but it was better than linger in all the fears you were beginning to have because of the situation. "Stress and what happened today was just to much for me to process in one day." You continued with the best smile you could put on.

"Are you sure you don't want to get checked?" He inquired. "Dr. Cho is still in the office. We can get checked together?" He offered.

Turning him, you had realized he was nursing a huge bruise himself from his mission. The sunken look on his eyes had you consumed in guilt more. Instead of refusing like you had been doing when the rest of the people in the compound insisted, now you had nodded your head and with Steve's guide, made your way to the doctor to get yourself checked.

"How was the mission?" You inquired, hand slowly slid against his own.

"We were able to stop a handful of HYDRA bases from spreading throughout Europe. There were a few casualties, but we've apprehended the lead of the operation." He muttered.

You nodded, hating to learn that innocent lives were cut short because of an organization that wanted nothing more than to ruin the world. Holding on to Steve's hand tighter, you gave your silent comfort, realizing everything that he has to shoulder both in his personal life and in his job as a Superhero.

"We--we can stay here as long as we need to." You finally relent.

"I just want you and Grant safe." Steve whispered halting from your journey to the medic bay. "I can't lose you or Grant."

Taking hold of both of his hands, only now have you come to realize the pain on your wrist. Spraining it from socking the man that attempted to take your son. As the adrenaline had finally died down, you realized all the aches that made you come to realize you were merely a normal woman compared to the people here in the compound--more capable of saving you and Grant if this was to happen ever again.

"Okay." You resigned. "We're gonna stay here until this all blows off." You smiled at him, hoping to lighten up the mood, as impossible it must been to do. "Let's get check up so you can shower and see all the drawings Sam and Wanda had made along with Grant."

Finally seeing the ghost of a smile, with your uninjured hand, you held onto his hand and made your way to the Medic Bay where thankfully no one else was in besides Dr. Helen Cho and her team.

"Capt. Rogers. Ms. Y/L/N." A gentle smile had played on Dr. Helen Cho's lips as she greeted the two of you.

Ignoring Steve's insistence on having you checked first, you had watched Steve get himself checked. Impressed with how quick his body was healing; the many perks of the Super Soldier Serum it seems.

"Let's get that wrist checked, Ms. Y/L/N." One of the doctors finally relented seeing you nursing your wrist.

Looking down, your brows furrowed at the sight of it, purple and red bruises painted all around your wrist. The ache you felt was only that of a sprain, but the sight of it was more a fracture.

"We need have an X-ray of your wrist to see the extent of the injury, but we need to have you take a pregnancy test first." Dr. Helen Cho supplied seeing the confusion that was on your face at the injury you didn't even know would be this severe. "It's standard procedure and wouldn't take you five minutes."

"But I'm taking birth controls since--" You weren't able to finish your words as you looked pointedly at Steve. "Can I have the cup and test, please?" You sighed giving up from denying a possibility at this point.

Memories of the first time you had ever seen Sergie in your apartment building brought back the memory of the untouched sanitary pads and tampons in your bathroom. Your mind was doing all the mental calculation since your last period and this was the fear you had come to realize can be a reality.

You can't be pregnant--again. Not in this situation.

#unintentional father mini series #unintentional father #Steve rogers imagine #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x unnamed female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fan fiction #steve rogers mini series

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (January 26/2021) - Kids With Nukes and Talking Eggs

The Crimson’s influence continues to spread and corrupt the SMP, with the seeds planted earlier sprouting into new tendrils.

In fact, the Crimson has spread so far that now chat can finally hear the Egg’s whispers for themselves, as Badboyhalo and Quackity have an important discussion, and Karl attempts to prevent the worst...

Also, Snowchester’s nuclear weapons test was a success! Everything went exactly according to plan and definitely nothing else. Yep.

---

- Ponk starts sneaking out of the Egg Room, but Bad comes on and he runs back to avoid suspicion.

- Bad calls him and asks how he’s doing. Ponk says he’s doing fine. Bad asks if he can get Ponk anything. He says Ponk will stay down there until he learns to love the Egg.

Ponk: “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me.”

- Bad says he’ll stay down for an extra day because of that.

- Ponk asks Bad for an iced mocha with cream and a pain au chocolat. Bad refuses at first, but after Ponk threatens to pee all over the Egg, Bad rushes off to get Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat. Ponk asks if it’s vegan.

- Bad drops Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat.

- Bad locks Ponk back up and says he’ll be staying down there for a day now. Ponk says he’ll continue to vibe.

- Ponk sneaks out once Bad is gone. He meets up with Awesam on the surface. Sam is still talking like he’s exhausted and drained, and says he wants to head home.

- Sam goes to be with Fran again, holding his rose with a wall blocking them off.

- Ponk shows Sam that he’s got Dream’s shield. Sam says that he probably shouldn’t carry it around, as people might get the wrong idea...Ponk says it’s cool because it makes his “head fuzzy.”

- Ponk says goodbye and leaves Sam.

- Both keycards for the nukes have gotten lost. There is no way this can end badly. Jack comes online and they begin to prepare. The plan is to launch one and decommission the others.

- Jack wonders how to get Tommy to the test site. Perhaps if some of the materials for the hotel can be obtained easiest near the site? He speaks with Awesam about adding spruce wood to the materials list. Awesam says he’ll let Sam Nook know.

- Tommy comes online and speaks with Sam Nook, who tells him to get some spruce wood. Niki comes over to fetch him. Niki leads Tommy closer to the test site.

- Jack desperately attempts to stall the launch.

- The nuke is launched! Jack and Tubbo rush over.

- Tommy manages to delay walking over to the test site purely by talking nonstop, and the nuke misses him. He instead goes to examine the crater with the others. Tubbo is concerned about Tommy’s lack of hazmat suit.

- Jack and Niki are furious that it didn’t work.

- They go back to Snowchester to celebrate. Tommy coughs up a bit of blood. Foolish comes over to deal some stress relievers.

- Sam Nook then tells Tommy to gather red dye.

- Tommy and Jack start fighting and Sam Nook comes to kill him.

- Ranboo speaks with Tubbo. Apparently the Crimson showed Tubbo images of dead families that made him cry. They wonder if they should do something about the Blood Vines.

- Ranboo writes in his book. His pickaxes have been mysteriously losing durability.

- Ranboo later speaks with Niki. He asks why she burned down L’mantree. Niki explains that she’d lost hope in L’manburg and didn’t believe it should exist anymore.

- Tommy mugs Foolish. Foolish says he’ll remember this.

- Tommy still doesn’t have enough red dye. Sam Nook is worried that Awesam won’t be pleased with him leaving the build site today. If Awesam found out, that wouldn’t be good...

- Foolish visits Ponk, who is still trapped in the obsidian Egg cage.

- Antfrost logs on and Foolish starts running up the stairs. He sneaks behind a corner and Antfrost walks by. He doesn’t seem to see Foolish.

- The Blood Vines have made their way to Foolish’s desert...

- Bad comes online with plans to introduce Callahan to the Egg. He meets up with Quackity and asks him if he’s noticed the Vines growing everywhere.

- Bad checks the Crater. Quackity sees the Crater Vines for the first time and is horrified.

- Bad asks Quackity -- he’s a chaotic individual -- what if he could join something greater than himself? Callahan as well? He asks if Quackity would either wish to be brainwashed, or voluntarily join the Eggpire. Quackity could be in charge of everything.

- Quackity says to keep talking...Bad says he would make a great leader. The Egg could be the means to the end of becoming the leader over everything.

- Ever since the whole L’manburg, fight with Dream happened, Quackity’s been wandering, taking some time off. Thinking about things. But he doesn’t like the idea of the Vines covering the entire SMP.

- Bad explains that once the Vines have covered everything, Quackity can come in as the ultimate hero, conquering the Egg and becoming the ruler of the entire Dream SMP.

Quackity asks...what’s the catch? Why wouldn’t Bad do this himself?

Bad says all he wants is to see Quackity succeed.

Bad: “You...could become the ruler of all of this.”

Quackity asks for Bad to show him a little more.

Bad: “The Egg can grant you your heart’s desires.”

Quackity: “So why do you still not have Skeppy?”

- Bad shows him around. Quackity wants to see exactly what Bad has up his sleeve, what’s really going on here. Karl follows them around in hiding.

- Bad, Quackity and Callahan jump down into the spider spawner to head to the Egg Room without Prime Suits on.

- Callahan dies on the Egg’s magma and disappears in the presence of the Egg.

- Quackity stands on the Egg and says it’s...wonderful. He feels great. A strange sensation.

The Crimson speaks.

- Karl types in chat, trying to get Quackity to leave the Egg.

- Quackity freaks out and says he needs to get out. He starts running, shouting in fear. He faces Bad in the hallway, telling him to stay back.

Bad: “Power! Power. Power...you want power, Quackity.”

...

Quackity: “Badboyhalo, there is something so very wrong with you...”

- Karl jumps into the hallway and hits Bad away.

- Quackity tells Bad to never do this to him again. Bad says everyone has to make a choice. He tried the easy way already, but Quackity’s chosen the difficult path...

- Bad comes to the Egg, frustrated. He’s trying to be nice, trying to give everybody a chance...and they’re not taking it.

The Crimson whispers to him.

- Bad thinks that maybe, letting so many Vines grow has turned people against the Crimson instead of getting them to love it.

- Bad lets Ponk out. He’s vibing. Bad gives him a pain au chocolat.

- Bad asks the Egg. What are they to do?

The Crimson whispers.

Bad says he had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Nothing matters but the Egg...and Skeppy.

- Bad leaves the Egg. They have to check the status of Sam, deal with Tommy, and see if they can still get Quackity on their side. He can come around to them! Antfrost and Bad need to meet with Technoblade as well.

- Quackity whispers to Bad that he would like to talk. As he comes up, he spots Ranboo wandering around.

The Crimson whispers, but Bad says he “can’t deal with this one at the moment.”

Bad picks up the grass block that Ranboo left and places it in his Ender Chest...

- Bad addresses chat: have they spent enough time with the Egg that they can hear the Egg too?

- Bad meets with Quackity at Eret’s castle. As Quackity jumps a fence, he places down some purple concrete. Bad picks it up and places it in his Ender Chest as well.

- They make it into the wilderness and Quackity tries to snap Bad out of it.

Quackity: “You’re one of the only people on the server who I have a little bit of hope in! ...What the hell is going on?”

“That’s not you! That’s not you, Bad!”

Bad: “The Egg offered me exactly what I wanted!”

Quackity: “What’d the Egg give you?”

Bad: “The Egg gave it to me -- or told me that it could get it for me.”

Bad says that Skeppy got infected by the Egg, and he realized that there was no way that he could get him back to normal, so he knew he had one job: if he got infected by the Egg too, then everything would be fine.

What else could Bad have done except done what the Egg told him? All of Bad’s attempted cures just ended up messing Skeppy up more and more. He couldn’t get Skeppy back to normal on his own. The Egg said if Skeppy was red, everything would be okay.

Bad: “Everybody has something that they want. Something -- when you lose something that you’re really close to, and you’re worried that you’ve lost it for good, sometimes you’re willing to make the tough sacrifices in order to get that thing back.”

Quackity: “And what are these ‘sacrifices?’ Your other friends?”

Quackity is offended that Bad would think the only thing he wants is power. Is that all Bad sees him as? Power-hungry?

Quackity: “Bad, I wanna help you.”

The Egg has an objective, one objective. It wants something, but can’t get it on its own. It needs people to get it. That’s why the Egg needs people, at least right now.

- Bad and Quackity argue.

- Quackity says Bad is a liability. He shouts at Bad to just listen. Quackity suggests that if they find the source of power for this Egg...maybe they can use this to the ultimate well-being of everyone. Because if the Egg can control others, then...maybe they can control other people for good?

- The only person the Egg can’t control is Tommy, so he has to die.

- It’s not a specific person that the Egg can’t control, but a specific type of person.

- Bad wonders...what if he could control the Egg?

Maybe he could free Skeppy himself.

- But how could they control the Egg? Quackity says he’s thought of a different type of control. Their conversation has given him some thoughts. He says Bad can deal with his Egg stuff alone, but he’s too far gone.

- Quackity says it’s not just about gathering people. There’s power in other measures too.

Quackity: “Do you remember that room Dream had where he had everyone’s personal belongings and he essentially had full control of just about everyone, because he had control of their personal belongings?”

- Bad says Quackity’s getting in the way of what he’s trying to accomplish. Quackity says they may be trying to accomplish the same things...

Quackity: “We have the same objectives with different measures.”

- It’s time they part ways. Before they split, though, Quackity leads Bad up a hill and has him look out across the wilderness.

Quackity: “Look at all this. Remember this for a long time...all of this empty land, all of these things...that people think don’t matter, Bad? They do matter, they do matter. Picture this in your head...just never forget it, okay?”

- They leave.

Quackity: “Goodbye, Bad...good luck in whatever you’re gonna do...

And I’ll make sure to get in your way.”

- Bad returns to the SMP, thinking to himself. If the Egg can give him his friend back, then that’s good...right?

- Punz’s eyes have turned red. He’s become favorable to the Vines growing on his tower, saying he likes the feeling of chaos it brings to him.

---

The Crimson spoke with five distinct messages throughout the stream, reversed:

“I will give you your heart’s desire...I will give you what you want.”

“Kill the boy ...Tommy must die.”

“This world is mine...it belongs to me.”

“Feed me...I require nourishment.”

“I know all...I see all...I...AM...ALL...”

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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jennsmischievousmind · 4 years

Text

Chaos Therapy

Session #4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You were assigned to a field mission, with particulars co-agents, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. One mission turned into multiples. After each missions you are debriefed by a therapist, Dr Noach just as Sam and Bucky. Thing is, they don’t know that you are much more than an agent.

Warnings: pining, bit of angst, Buck/Sam bickering, violence (fights against enemies), mild swearing (still real bad at warnings)

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

“Lettonia?” You fastened your weightlifting gloves looking back at Bucky.

“We have a lead on Zemo.” his face fell a little

“Hey” you searched for his eyes “kick his ass for me,”

His smile returned a hearthy chuckle leaving his lips, hesitantly his hand reached your forearm brshing down to your fingertips, he took a step forward and pressed a kiss to your temple, your eyes closed on their own and you squeezed his hand in yours, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"See you in a few days," he whispered, you nodded and he took a step backward,

"Don't kill each other,"

"noted,"

You watch him go, his broad back passing the gym door. Your stomach immediatly churning, "Buck!" you ran out the gym, he was waiting at the elevator, "Bucky!" he panicked seeing you ran to him.

"Doll," your fingers interlaced with his dog tags, you stopped the motion your face inches from him, his eyes fall on your lips. A tug on his dog tags and your lips collided, his arms circled your back, a hand splayed on your waist the other slowly going up your spine to your nape as your free one caressed his face, feeling the pricks of his beard under your delicate fingers.

“Bucky, I .. “ the ding of the elevator distracted both of you for a second “I’ll have to tell you something,”

“you’re okay ?” the worry in his eyes had you tongue-tied, your hands tightened on his shirt. “Yea, yea just .. be careful out there,” the smile you gave him unknitted his brows, his hands brushed your arms. You couldn’t bare to tell him, not now, he will know the truth soon enough anyway. He hesitantly leaned in pecking your lips before getting on the elevator.

“What’s going on ?” Sam squinted his falcon eyes at Bucky who did everything to avoid his scrutinous look. “Oh, oooh you and Y/n finally!!” Sam let out a proud laugh, clasping Bucky’s shoulder.

“Y/N what do you make of their duo?”

“It works somehow. I know it seems unbelievable especially when you see them from the outside. The thing is, they both lose Captain Rogers, the person that believe in them both and now they can only count on each other and believe in each other that’s why it works. Sam believe in Bucky being able to heal and get redemption, while Bucky believe in Sam being worthy of the Shield. The constant bickering is their way of showing their affection. They have a strong teamwork.” you conclude.

Noach nods, all the while analyzing your features.

“Thank you, they’re another mission coming up_”

“Yes ma’am. But I’m not allowed to join them for this mission,”

“I know, I’ve talked with the Director, that’s a shame, it’s a big one,” you both stand up and she walks you to the door “Y/N” she stops “I’m planning on ending the therapy when they come back from this mission.”

“What is it?” she says seeing your face fell.

“You know exactly,” you passes your badge on the elevator sensor.

“It was necessary,”

“They won’t like it,”

“They? Or he?” you gave her a grave look, “You want me to say that I shouldn’t have engage anything with Bucky,”

“No, I don’t blame you, you’re both human attraction is normal. Though now a long discussion with him awaits you.” Your head tilt back knowing too well she was right.

Sam and Bucky were back from Lettonia, you had some undone work back in the cave you didn’t have the time to greet them yet.

“Now, in order to round off our work here, I needed a closer look at your teamwork and general relationship,”

“You bugged us, Doc?” Sam scoffed, you facepalm behind the one-way mirror.

“Not exactly. I need you to know it was necessary to prove that your duo was fit for combat,” she turned to the mirror behind her nodding. Your cue, clenching your hand on the door handle, the voices inside increased as you pushed it.

“Agent Y/F/N mission was to evaluate your compatibility and capacity to work as a team, outside those therapy sessions. Agent Y/L/N beside her I.T work is a trained therapist,”

“That’s some fucked up therapy,”

“Mr, Wilson,_” you blocked their discussion as you were focused on Bucky’s reaction. His clenched fits on his thighs, his locked jaw and his gaze fixated on the wall before him. You jumped slightly as he stood up and left the room. Noach and Sam looked at you stopping their discussion. “I’ll be right back,” quickly walking out, you breathe in deeply. Bucky’s back facing you, the tension in his stance visible.

“Bucky,..” he glanced on the side

“I’ve been lie too for a longtime Y/n, ..” taking a step forward carefully you observed his side profile “I guess you can hurt me in the end,” his voice melted with anger and sorrow stopped you, the lump in your throat getting bigger, the prickling in your eyes accentuating.

Biting your lower lip, you tried to find your voice back. Like approaching a wild wolf, you were on edge yet cautious, reaching his shoulder you softly pulled on it “Please look at me,” he turned around but his eyes never reached yours, his hands on his hips you took them gently, interlacing your fingers with his. Against what you thought he didn’t reject you. His eyes still cast away, you rested your forehead on his chest, closing your eyes, you felt his hands twitched in yours, his chest heaving a little faster.

“You have to understand,…” your murmured feeling your throat tightened.

“you could have told me!” he spoke quietly yet the tightness in his voice showed his anger.

“Really though,” an anxious smirk reached your mouth for a millisecond “it was my mission Buck. I .. I didn’t plan on falling for you, it changed a lot of things.” He stayed silent at your confession; panic took over, his silence giving you the chills. Clearing your throat after an odd silent long second, you let go of his hands, taking a step back, and took your most serious professional voice “Please come back in the room, Dr Noach has some more questions.”

Noach arched an eyebrow seeing you enter the room alone, you sat next to her, facing Sam. Like Noach predicted Sam was “easier” to get by, he was still reluctant obviously but not closed to discussion. Bucky never came back in the room, before leaving Noach gave you gentle smile squeezing your upper arm.

“You won’t have to see much of me now, don’t worry,” you said to Sam who slowed down to a stop next to the elevator.

“Well, we’re not through it yet, the director of intelligence asked to see the three of us,” you stepped into the elevator with him.

“As you know the image of super-heroes is not at his best. After the few events with the flag smashers and the chaos in Lettonia” he looked at the boys gravely “the governments are not willing to brush this away as nothing happened. Moreover, rumor has it flag smashers are still quite upset about the docks operation. I suggest you lay low for a few days, weeks maybe. I can’t have you fighting flag smashers around the country, and cause much more mishaps,”

Sam clapped is hand all of sudden, turning to you and the silent Bucky next to you “Mi casa es su casa,”

You look at them wondering, Bucky avoiding your eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” you left the room after the director dismissed you.

Starting your way to the elevator you paused hearing your name, “Sam’s house is safe, and you will be safer with us,” Bucky’s concerned warmed your heart.

“Hurts me to say it but tincan’s right,”

Although you knew they were 100% right, spending 24/7 with them, moreover around Bucky, it would have been great if it wasn’t for the fact that he totally despised you at the moment.

Passing by your place you grabbed a backpack and shove a bunch of random clothes in it. Sam and Bucky were waiting in the car. Seating down on your bed, the exhaustion caught up with you, your mind going blank, staring into the void.

Bucky look in the rear-view mirror “She’s taking too long,” Sam hummed. “Maybe we should check on her,”

“Maybe,” Sam looked at Bucky, pushing up his sunglasses onto his nose, reclining his seat and crossing his arms. Bucky rolled his eyes opening the door with a bit too much force that it cried out.

A knock on your door made you jump, blue eyes met yours, he was standing there at your bedroom door. He looked around taking everything in, if you were both in another mindset it would be thrilling.

“We have to go, the longer we stay here_ “

“I know, sorry,” grabbing your pack you slide down your bed, opening on your drawer near the door you grabbed the gun in it, slipping in your pants. Bucky eyed you, hands in his pocket.

He didn’t budge as you passed by him. His aura embracing you, overwhelming your senses. Daring a glance behind at him, his eyes were lost on you, his lips moved as he was about to say something but as soon as he refocused his jaw clenched a second. “Let’s go,” he walked to the door, you squint your eyes unwilling to see him past you so coldly. A warmth enveloping the hand holding your bag brought you back, his flesh hand brushed yours as he grabbed your pack, then left without looking back.

“So, we’re just going to follow orders?”

“It cannot hurt,” Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror “we all need some time off...” The ride was so awkward Sam was trying to loosen up the mood every so often, you tried to keep up with him but at one point you were too exhausted and fell asleep.

Bucky kept glancing at your sleeping form curled in the backseat. “When we get there you two will talk!” I’m not spending a week or more with a depressed cyborg and a torned beautiful woman!” Bucky frowned at Sam, “I haven’t dealt with that kind of problem, in a while.” he sighed the all sentence.

“Well, get with it!” Sam’s voice woke you up, “Good timing, we’re here!” The light blue and white big house appeared before you. “Sam that’s a really nice place!”

“Thanks, in the family for generations!” he was rightfully proud of the building.

“Rooms are upstairs,” he turned around letting his duffle bag hit the ground, the both of you standing awkwardly 2 feet apart.

“I don’t want to hear anything…” his look paused on you then Bucky his look insisting. You rolled your eyes at the insinuation. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” You drag yourself up the wooden stairs.

“Dinner at 9, Everyone pitch in to cook, house rule,”

“Believe me Wilson, you don’t want me near fire and sharp knives.” You yelled from the landing, missing Bucky hiding a smile as he joined Sam in the living room.

“Here,’ Sam walked down the pier, handing a bottle of beer to Buck who was watching the sunset.

“You know she had to keep it from us,” Sam calmly said, his VA side resurging.

“I know,”

“And that she wouldn’t feel so bad if she didn’t care about you,” Seeing Bucky staying silent his brows knitted, Sam stood up “Man, you got to talk to her, she reached out it’s on you now,”

“You realized it’s not that easy,”

“It is, you walk up to her, show or tell her what’s on that cyborg brain of yours, and that’s it, avoiding her it’s not the right way to do it.”

After a good shower you sat by the window overlooking the pier, the boys were on the dock enjoying a beer. “It’s gonna be fine,” you pep talked yourself eyes trained on Bucky’s silhouette.

Session #5

MASTERLIST

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

#Chaos Therapy #No spoilers #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws fanfictions

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twst-campos13 · 4 years

Note

Hello!! May I request a shy!male staff reader pining for Crowley??? Can we have a happy ending to it as well? Please and thankyou ♥

Another sappy soft staff pining coming up!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧! I made this as a headcanon instead, I hope you don’t mind!!

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, nurse!reader, fluff, pining, flower language

➸ Let's say you've been NRC's school nurse for the last 3 years. You know everyone who comes in and out of the infirmary especially the students who frequent their visit in that wing

➸ You're a lifesaver in a more literal sense. The students at this school are beyond rowdy—seeing students at different dormitories getting along is a rarer sight than seeing the infirmary completely empty. You get recognition from the staff and the frequent troublesome students for your hard work. From fights, magical accidents, and now the overblots—you're a hero without a cape, always making sure the students are in shape before you discharge them.

➸ Although the work is tiring, there are certain things that motivate you to continue your duty as a nurse. It isn't just the small praises your co-workers give you or the grateful gestures former patients do. Rather, it came from the bumbling headmaster of the school—Headmaster Dire Crowley.

➸ Also known as the guy you’re into.

➸ Now when did you meet? Crowley had taken you in for an interview when you applied for a job at Night Raven College. You must admit he did have a tendency of talking over people and interrupting them, and you didn't get a chance to explain to him that "no sir I'm not applying as a permanent school nurse" when he immediately hired you as one.

➸ Being a timid person, you find it hard to speak up about your thoughts even when you want to defend yourself. When your voice finds the courage, others' loud and abrasive tone intimidates you. You realized that a way to stay out of confrontations would be to just stay quiet. Crowley came off as pointless to argue with.

➸ Your first impression of him was not the best and you intended to just leave him a note and find another job elsewhere when both of you stumbled upon a student choking. Your instincts were quicker than his and medical action was performed immediately. You were quite the hero and professional in Crowley's eyes during that day. That's how you were insisted to take the job.

➸ You could've left anytime. Yes, you were shy but you aren't a pushover. So why did you stay? Well, somehow, someone has to take care of the residents of this school.

➸ Admittedly, you are annoyed that the Headmaster worries more about financial and collateral damage than the rivalry of students that can result in scuffles. You tried to talk to him about hiring a school therapist or counselor so that it may lessen the injured students. You know what his response to that was? He laughed merrily and gave your shoulder a pat. "That is why we have a kind gentleman such as you to take care of them!"

➸ His dense statement could give anyone a headache but oddly enough you didn't feel a migraine from that. Instead it...the praise—it motivated you to just keep doing what your work is. The primary reason for your duty is to take care of the prideful and rowdy students at this school. The secondary reason being that...hearing Crowley trust you and praise you felt...good.

➸ And he kept praising you for your hard work. He told you how grateful he is to have a kind and soft-spoken nurse to be taking care of his students. Although you want to retort that he should be taking care of them as well, you kept those remarks to yourself and took in his compliments.

➸ When you thought he picks and chooses his responsibilities, he had surprised you upon defending you when your professionalism is being insulted. You've learned to keep quiet and continue doing your duty. But having the Headmaster defend you from a sharp-tongued student? It was shocking...and quite admirable. You thought it was a one-time thing but it didn't just happen to you. Despite being rude and bumbling, the Headmaster does care for the wellbeing of the residents of the school. When certain boundaries are being overstepped he would jump right in, providing to be a voice to those lesser than him.

➸ Perhaps that's why you had a crush on him? Because your types are seemingly dense, idiotic, seemingly prideful men who can be also caring at times you least expect them to be? Or you just fancy mysterious men behind masks and top hats, whose smile is so annoying you couldn't do anything but shake your head fondly?

➸ Did you get called out or-

➸ Well it's just a crush now isn't it? After all your relationship remains strictly professional. Oh, you were so sure your feelings wouldn't develop any further...until Crowley accidentally hit himself with a lamp trying to kill a cockroach in his office. Ah, that was the day you saw his handsome face—and the day your heartbeat earnestly for him.

➸ let's admit homeboy looks like muzan jackson

➸ He looked like a pale white boy which excellently brings out his brilliant honey gold eyes. He looks really, really handsome, and you wonder if the mask just made seeing his real face so exciting. You tripped over your own words when he called out your attention for the icepack you're pressing his bruise with started stinging.

➸ The image of his face is burned in your mind. Before that revelation, you were already shy when speaking to him. Now, oh Sevens, you had to practically stop rambling so the Headmaster may get a concise word from you.

➸ He's always visiting the infirmary as well which only made your feelings for him bloom and bloom like the yellow and white azaleas he leaves when you are on breaks. Crowley adamantly denies the flowers being sent by him. Still, you appreciate the gesture and made sure to speak highly of your "mysterious" sender. You do not miss the way the feathers of his cape seemingly ruffle happily. You're not one for horticulture but you don't want to jump to conclusions as to what those flowers may mean. And whenever Crowley visits it feels like a visit from a friend you are reluctant to accept into your home but you do anyway, because admit it or not, his presence is very welcoming.

➸ When you do ask him why his visits are routinely, Crowley's reasons are always about checking the wellbeing of students in the infirmary as well as yours. He's aware that the medical field is a serious job and as the Headmaster he takes it as a duty to lessen your stress by acting as a friendly colleague. Now, isn't he so gracious?

➸ You don't complain about his visits anyway. In fact, you like them a lot. With Crowley being so talkative you find yourself often exchanging lighthearted conversations with him. Never small talk. Crowley learned that small talks with you are awkward and started conversation topics that will lead to deep chats. Did you appreciate his efforts? Oh, you did, and it surprised you how much he paid attention to your rambles that it made your heart skyrocket. Your mind wanders in circles if he's starting to like you back or if he's just being friendly and wants you to feel at home in NRC.

➸ But how could he return your feelings when you never even??? confessed to him???

➸ Are you ever going to confess to him, that is the question. No? Maybe? Probably? In due time? It's complicated. Even when your colleague Prof. Crewel suggested that he might be into men you still bite at your tongue and swallow the words.

➸ It's just...it's hard. It's easier to speak up for yourself inside your mind than outside. You aren't a pushover but you don't like confrontations. It's easier to treat patients than to treat yourself.

➸ Luckily, there are other people willing to play nurse to cure your lovesickness. Although the academic staff of NRC is dumbfounded at your special someone. Out of all the people you could've pine after, you had to fall for the densest and irresponsible man at this school.

➸ "But Headmaster Crowley isn't that irresponsible!" You would argue over tea with Mr. Trein and Prof. Crewel, who would then roll their eyes at you. My, you have fallen deep and you can't go back.

➸ You could've just bottled your feelings and let it eat you inside-out, but it's chewing you so hard you can barely perform your tasks when Crowley is around. You had to give yourself peace of mind. Although rejection isn't that far you're still willing to take that risk.

➸ Since you couldn't confess to him verbally, you decided to buy an item from the school shop. It was your first idea which...okay, it's cute but it's not that bright. Luckily, Sam was available and suggested something else that can get your point across. Crowley had given you specific flowers so why not do the same to him?

➸ You dropped by his empty office and left one stem of red chrysanthemum at his desk. You made sure to also put a small wrapped biscuit beside it. You followed Mr. Sam's advice about leaving a piece of a treat along with the flower. Crows like shiny things and treats, right? You just hoped this would work.

➸ Hope started to crumble inside you and the pieces being snacked on by your anxiety. Crowley is less frequent with his visits at the infirmary and when both of you would talk there is this thick awkward wall of tension. You were only awaiting the day when the yellow and white azaleas will be accompanied by a single yellow and striped carnation. The day did come when a flower was left on your desk—but it was not a striped carnation.

➸ It was a bundle of beautiful ambrosia flowers freshly bloomed.

➸ You could've thought Crowley wanted to poison you with those flowers until you remembered from reading a book about the language of flowers that it meant something more. It brought you to tears, so much so that the few patients in the infirmary asked if you were okay.

➸ Ambrosia. Love reciprocated.

➸ When Headmaster Crowley announced to the staff that he will be courting you to be his boyfriend, a wave of relief washed over the entire college. Turns out, both of you were tiptoeing around each other, failing to find the proper words to admit that you like each other. Mr. Trein can rest peacefully without Crowley crying to him about how he can ever confess to such a handsome man such as you. It made you blush deeply, realizing that you have been doing the same thing with Prof. Crewel and Mr. Sam.

➸ The Headmaster had certainly become more prideful now that you are together. But it was sweet in a way. You were glad that you scrapped the letter idea for you may have misused a few words.

➸ Although you are still shy in participating in PDA, both of you know that love doesn't have to be expressed verbally. Crowley does it excellently on his own. He always tells anyone he comes across that you are his beautiful, handsome, lovely little nurse. You had to shut him up by pinching his ear which you will treat later with a caring kiss.

#camposnotes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #dire crowley #headmaster crowley #dire crowley x reader #twisted wonderland dire crowley #fluff #i find this very cute #language of flowers #if you were asking for a scenario im sorry!!#i hope you still enjoyed this nonetheless!!!#i just find it cute and heartwarming afeaufe #birdman gets love #i also made reader a nurse i hope you dont mind!!!

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starsandfluff · 3 years

Text

antfrost throughout egg arc

discovery of the egg and initial possession

ant was one of the first to be infected along with bad, puffy, and ponk. similar to bad and puffy, he was very caring towards the egg, frequently calling it and the vines “pretty” and “beautiful.” he often went around the smp planting new bloodvines and feeding the vines and the egg rotten flesh, or anything red he had in his inventory. he was also the main translator for the egg (and still is), often putting messages in chat written in standard galactic/enchantment table language.

throughout his possession, even presently, he is not self aware of the control the egg has over him, similar to punz and hannah. he is very devoted to the egg but doesn’t at all suspect he’s being brainwashed/mind controlled.

scp arc/released from egg’s possession

after skeppy sacrificed himself for those possessed by the egg and the egg was covered in obsidian, ant and bad worked together to experiment on the egg’s abilities. they tested out different materials on the egg to see its effect on them as well as seeing how the egg turned obsidian into crying obsidian and eventually absorbed obsidian and grew larger.

until the obsidian was removed, ant was not under the influence of the egg. at one point even accusing bad of seeming like he was possessed by the egg again. although experiencing being released from the egg’s possession, while once again possessed he doesn’t seem to be able to recognize the egg’s control over him.

prior to breaking the obsidian, ant and the others were very careful about hazmat suits and cleansing. in contrast, during the initial possession ant and bad were both very averse to being bathed. sam forcibly bathed both of them, despite their protest that everything was fine and that ant being a cat meant he didn’t like baths. multiple times sam would water bucket one of them, and then they would run back to stand on the vines. also, after breaking the obsidian, ant and the other didn’t wear hazmat suits around the egg and bloodvines and did their best to persuade others (non-possessed) to not wear hazmat suits.

skeppy bathwater and the many attempts to save skeppy

ant is very violent, while sometimes viewed as a passive second in command to bad, he can be very impulsive, bloodthirsty, and fighting-oriented both under the egg’s possession and out of it (especially seen in the second pet war).

bad wanted to try everything to save skeppy as long as it wouldn’t hurt him. unhelpfully, ant was very adamant that they should try killing skeppy, just to see if it would work, saying multiple times that they should “put him down.”

when bad suggested they kill someone else, ant jumped on board with the attempt to kill eret, no matter how unrelated to skeppy the attempt seemed, ant was very supportive of murdering eret just because. none of the murder attempts went through as the two of them then went on to try bathwater concoctions for the rest of the stream.

since skeppy turned into red skeppy, bad has struggled so much trying to save the one person he cares about more than anything and throughout all of that ant didn’t make any attempt to see how bad was truly feeling. he did support him in all the endeavors to help skeppy, giving bad the maid skeppy image and helping with all the bathwater attempts, but he also urged bad to kill skeppy multiple times and doesn’t truly know how bad feels about the egg. ant is still, as of the red banquet, under the impression that bad loves the egg just as much as he does and would do anything for the egg (as viewers we know that bad holds a lot of resentment for the egg and above everything just wants his skeppy back).

ant is very good friends with both bad and skeppy, and a loyal member of the badlands, but throughout the egg arc and specifically during the red skeppy situation, he did not consider either of them, especially not bad’s feelings or his relationship with skeppy. while those under the egg’s possession can wildly fluctuate between holding grudges and assuming their friendships are perfectly intact, they are all very much willing to hurt and kill their friends (with the exception of skeppy for bad) if it will benefit the egg.

eggpire

ant was very easily persuaded by bad about forming the eggpire and releasing the egg for the purpose of chaos and gaining power for the badlands. he quickly joined bad in trying to convince the others to release the egg and join the eggpire. he was not aware of bad already being under the influence of the egg, and his process of falling under possession of the egg was seen in stages with the changes in his eye color from blue eventually to red.

ant has been a messenger for the egg since the beginning of the arc. while primarily fighting-oriented, he’s also a very intelligent and prepared person. while puffy is trying to pretend she is also under the egg’s possession, ant catches her in a lie by asking her to translate a message from the egg which she does incorrectly. ant and bad then try to hunt her down with puffy successfully fleeing. ant and bad aren’t fazed by this since they already had the plans to trap sam and others in the obsidian chamber above the egg.

ant was informed of these secret plans for trapping people in the egg chamber, while eggpire members other than bad and him were not. ant was very eager to carry out these plans, seeing any harm their victims went through as a necessary measure in order make them love the egg. he and bad do have some leniency in getting ponk coffee, pain au chocolat, and a bucket to pee in.

while from sam’s point of view, his relationships with ant and bad have been strained because of the egg, ant and bad still see bad and their friend and fellow badlands member. however, because of the egg’s influence, they are very willing to hurt him in order to make him love the egg. they lie to sam in order to trap him in the egg chamber and laugh when they successfully trap him. sam has horrible and traumatizing experiences while trapped, however ant and bad are only occupied with the fact that he ends up escaping. their highest priority is always the egg’s plans.

red banquet

ant and bad have fun planning the red banquet. ant is the first one to announce the red banquet and begins the build in the egg room and hangs up fanart around the smp. they hand out invitations to everyone together, lying about the peacefulness and goal of the event. ant is really happy when he completes his part of the plan because he knows bad will be excited. while his main purpose under possession is to carry out the egg’s orders, he is still very much driven by the love and happiness of his friends, especially the badlands.

at the red banquet, ant welcomes the guests as they arrive, still keeping up the act of wanting to make amends. around this time, he quickly opens his inventory showing his armor and weapons. he socializes with guests on the dance floor, notably bringing attention to hbomb’s white dad dancing.

(velvet is the egg theory: at the table, ant is sitting next to a reserved seat with cake in front of it.)

at the banquet table, after the speeches have finished, ant is the one to push the button to surround everyone with lava at bad’s silent signal.

while preparing to execute foolish, ant and puffy argue over the fault of these executions. puffy tells him and bad that it’s their last chance with her and how she trusted them to hold a peaceful banquet. ant argues as a part of the eggpire, she was the one who betrayed them and she had the opportunity to stay with the eggpire and prevent the executions. ant recognizing the slaughter and bloodshed they are causing, saying that “everybody behind [puffy] is defenseless. they’re about to be slaughtered because of [her].” however, ant puts the egg above everything and sees benefitting the egg as a reasonable justification for executing the banquet guests. puffy says that she cares about people, and the eggpire members prioritizing the egg above people’s lives is “selfish” (despite the egg’s possession and control over them).

ant executes foolish while the banquet guests scream at him. ant has always viewed foolish as a friend, and foolish is one of the few smp members to recognize that their actions are because of the egg’s possession and not their own will, however he kills him quite easily. given a netherite axe by quackity, puffy kills ant. since she takes multiple hits to kill him, ant attempts to back away from her as he’s being attacked.

ant didn’t press respawn during his red banquet stream and hasn’t streamed in character since, but plans to soon after he posts his next video.

#antfrost #mcyt #dream smp #dsmp analysis #ant my boy <3 #hello read my mostly from memory infodump of everything ant's done :]#dream smp recap

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry, was an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t.

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him.

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they do watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you. No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit.

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry, what? What the fuck?

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s worth saving . Fucking hell.

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he- fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him, this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no. Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I need to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing, desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!”

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening. It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger. Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is- Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten. My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body, that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore , he reminds himself. They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head. That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves- loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

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