#the way ive been in the trenches for almost two years... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orionwhispers · 4 years ago

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Feels Like Home // Bucky Barnes 🍂

(a/n- ok holy shit ive finally finished my first bucky oneshot. its long as fuck but im so so happy with it. pls let me know what you think. i have lots of requests and peaky stuff coming up as well. love you guys SO much) probs loads of mistakes but its 12k words and im exhausted lol. (also this is inspired by the song feels like home by bea miller and jessie reyez. highly recommend)

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, HEAVILY implied smut, so much fluff your dentist will kill me, angst and canon level violence.

Bucky Barnes had thought a lot about death.

He thought about it often during the war. Wondering if perhaps a bullet would pass through his gut as he ran through the trenches, or a bomb would explode under his feet as he walked across the battlefield. It was everywhere he looked, his fellow comrades bandaged and bloody, the nurses in the infirmary tent smelling of saline and strong, sweet, copper.

He thought about it more than anything with Hydra. Wishing that the torture would send him over the edge, pleading for the sweet release that death would give him. Thinking that what was waiting for him on the other side surely couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with.

Even when he moved into the tower, and into a routine with people who understood and trusted him, death had followed him for so long that it was like a friend.

He always thought his death would be something violent; something carnal and savage, almost poetic for him to die the same way that he had lived.

But who would have thought his demise would have been at the hands of the sleepy eyed, honey lipped, gentle girl that made him coffee and brought him raspberry donuts?

You turned his world upside down on a Thursday. He remembers it well, and thinks back to that autumn morning like it’s a picture he keeps in his wallet or a well thumbed book next to his bed. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are - he could be in battle, bloody and bruised, or five thousand miles away from you on a mission in the depths of some town he doesn’t know the name of, feeling himself start to crumble - and the thought of you is enough to steady him, your light luring him back to rationality, his girl.

His sweet girl.

He owed it all to you, and the way you changed his life on that rainy, dreary day and made him realise that home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

The compound was quiet. The Avengers all in a state of limbo; exhausted from hours of travelling, the ghost of bruises and cuts on their knuckles and blood under their fingernails. But more powerful than anything: the red hot relief to finally be back in the tower after two weeks.

The rest of the group fell into their own routines, their own little grooves that they had mastered over the however many years they had been saving the world. The showers were turned onto the highest setting, the smell of Sam’s ridiculously expensive mango shower gel and Nat’s deep, woody body scrub lingering across the floor. Comfort food was made in the kitchen, the throaty sound of laughter and bare feet on the tiles as popcorn sizzled and snapped on the stove. Blankets were draped across the sofas, mugs of hot chocolate and cans of sweet, dry beer passed around and over tangled limbs.

It was something they needed - something they craved. That comforting, warm feeling of family, something so trivial and domestic that it was enough to dull whatever they had been faced with, that for the evening they could think of terrible rom coms and laughter and teasing, rather than civilians dying and the smell of blood and the sound of gunshots. For those stolen moments of happiness after days of heart ache and exhaustion - it was enough.

Well, it was enough for almost everyone.

Whilst the others were arguing over the remote and whether peanut M&Ms were better than chocolate, Bucky was in his room with the lock bolted, methodically cleaning his weapons with surgical precision. He had been at the compound for almost six months, and despite the amenities and luxuries that came with his new home, he felt anything but comfortable.

He liked the people he lived and worked with - and most of them liked him too, but that didn’t do anything to dull the ache in his skull and the uncertainty deep in his gut. After so many years of not being in control of his own mind and body, of having his thoughts and feelings altered by people who saw him as nothing more than a weapon, he was struggling to adjust to his new life.

Amongst all of the chaos though, he had Steve.

The familiar sunshine haired boy that helped ease the storm. His best friend, his brother. The once scrawny teenager that he would follow to the end of the world, all guns blazing, no questions asked. Deep down, he knew that the golden boy was perhaps the only reason he was still at the tower, blending in with all the rest of the wonderful, shining eyed superhero’s around him, making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He knew they thought he could change, but he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes - like the times when he found himself grinning at something Clint said in the back of the jet, or when Nat patted his shoulder in thanks when he covered her in battle, or when he sat on the roof with Steve, talking about faded memories of pin up girls and Coney Island, he felt like perhaps he could be the man Steve thought he was. But then he caught sight of himself in the reflected surfaces of his bathroom, or felt the ricochet of his gun against his shoulder or the blood coating his hands and dripping down into his boots - and he remembered that sometimes people just don’t change.

He listened to the rain as he folded away his weapons that day. Listened to the way the patter of the water muffled the noises of laughter and playfulness coming from the lounge and dissolved into silence. It was too early to retire into bed, and besides, after a mission like the one they had come from sleep wouldn’t be on his mind for a while, his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Then, amongst the patter of raindrops and mingle of voices, he heard something.

A commotion in the hall. His body was finely tuned to pick up anything out of the ordinary, and he could hear the magnetic whir and clang of the elevator as it reached their floor. Everybody was crowded in the living room, which meant it would be somebody from outside the inner circle, and usually that would send cold chills down to his spine, but for some reason this time it didn’t.

Ghosts. Premonitions. Fortune telling. All a load of horse shit to him. He might have been to space and been frozen in time and met some really, really, bizarre people - but there were some things he just didn’t believe in.

Until that rainy day.

It was like a magnetic pull inside of him, when he wanted to lock himself away and not speak to anyone, something inside of him made him want to get up and join the rest of the crew in meeting the stranger.

Even before he saw your face you had him, hook, line and sinker.

So he begrudgingly got to his feet and stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, metal arm out of sight. Steve glanced at him quickly with his eyebrows raised but he ignored him, focusing his eyes on the elevator as it slowly started to open.

Tony looked up suddenly as the doors opened , furrowing his brow at the semi circle of avengers watching him intently. Rather then question it he rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly and stepping forward, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Gather round, gather round, circus freaks. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Because Tony’s personality took up almost the entire room by himself, he had to step to the side for everyone to even get a glimpse of who he was talking about. They waited patiently, with crossed arms and gentle smiles as you stepped out of the shadows.

Bucky felt himself freeze.

You looked so... scared. Not in the traditional sense, not like you were terrified of them or fearing for your life, but the kind of alarm that always trudged through his blood, the feeling of unease and instability, as though you didn’t really belong.

Everybody fell into their roles the way he knew they would. You were young, probably not much older than the Parker kid, and that was why Nat and Steve stepped forward instantly, very protective of you before they even knew your name.

Your hair was mused and loose, eyes wide and lips puffy, as if you had just woken up. You were dressed all in black, baggy clothes and no makeup, your fingers interlocked, your rapid heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Tony said, one arm resting gently on your shoulders, pushing you forward.

Bucky had to stop himself from saying your name aloud, wondering why he wanted to taste it on his tongue.

As everybody spoke, introducing themselves with just enough reservation to make you feel comfortable, your eyes met, and his heart stopped. Your eyes were more white than not, a little glossy and swimming with uncertainty, and he felt the urge to do something, anything, to make you feel even a little bit calmer.

The feeling was so foreign that he stepped back, tearing his gaze away from you, suddenly unnerved. He didn’t miss the way you exhaled, and he pretended not to notice the way his body seemed to pine for the warmth he had felt when your eyes met.

Bucky heard him whisper to Nat, his usually sardonic voice dripping with genuine concern. “Keep an eye on her, for me, please.”

And although he knew Tony would never ask that of him, he knew that without a doubt, he would.

—————————————————————-

Those next few days, you stayed hidden in your room - which just so happened to be opposite his own.

Despite that, he never saw you. Not even once.

You weren’t at any team meetings or debriefings, you were never nestled in one of the chairs in the lounge, never sat on the balcony watching the sunrise or slicing up strawberries and grapes in the nook in the kitchen.If it wasn’t for the small, barely there noises you made every so often, he would have thought you had left.

Through the vents he could occasionally hear the whine of your door and the gentle sound of your footsteps at midnight darting to the kitchen. Sometimes he heard Wanda speaking softly to you, so kind and gentle that he could even hear the anxiety leave your voice for a little while. He’d hear Tony’s loud and obnoxious knock in the middle of the night, the two of you leaving for the lab under the cover of darkness.

Bucky hardly slept. It had never come smoothly to him, slipped through his fingers too easily like grains of sand. He used to train to block out the noise, attacking a punching bag until all he could hear was the steady thump, thump, thump of his knuckles. Steve had taken him running whenever the nights got too long or too loud, sweating out the frustration he felt as they darted through the streets at midnight, but now he found another way to pass those hours in the dead of night.

There was something oddly comforting to him about laying upright in his bed, reading whatever novel somebody had leant him and told him was a classic, listening out for the shuffle of your footsteps from the other side of the hall. He remembered what it had been like for him when he first moved into the tower. He knew how hard it was, moving into a space that wasn’t your own.

So now he found solace under the breeze of his ceiling fan and the slow drip of that one leaky tap that he still hadn’t fixed and the low hum of whatever sitcom you were watching vibrating through the walls.

He liked to make sure that you were safe. You were obviously scared of something, or someone, and it made him feel better that he was keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. He told himself that it was for the benefit of the whole tower, but that didn’t explain the ease he felt in his chest when he finally heard the quiet, even snores coming from your room, and the way that it made his own eyes start to close.

The next time he saw you in the flesh was almost a month after you had moved in.

He was in the lounge with the rest of the avengers that had slept most of the morning away, Sam nursing a cup of vanilla coffee and Steve watching the news as he made some kind of bizarre and disgusting protein shake. Bucky sat on the sofa with his back ramrod straight as he did the daily crossword, something about filling out the empty boxes comforting him.

It was a rare free day and he had slept in a little longer than usual, only falling asleep after he had heard the squeak of your bed frame and the whir of your fan flittering in his ears. When he had woken up your room was still, and he assumed you were still asleep as he headed out for his run, but by the sound of your voice in the stairwell you had obviously slipped out unnoticed, and he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

He perked up instantly when he heard you. He listened to the soft way you spoke against the sharp click of Pepper’s heels against the floor, his eyes darting to the doorway as he heard you approach. He saw the girls first, the three of them flanking you like a security detail. Wanda and Natasha at your sides, Pepper walking slightly ahead; gesturing with her jewellery clad hands as she spoke to you.

You faltered as you stepped forward, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you noticed the boys watching you from the other side of the room. Sam awkwardly removed his hand from where he had shoved it down a cereal box, waving kindly with lucky charm marshmallows stuck to his fingers. Steve - ever the gentleman - gave you his classic golden retriever smile, greeting you as though you were an old friend.

You relaxed a little at that, and Bucky felt himself deflate. He would never be the most warm and welcoming person, not anymore, and he wondered why that bothered him so much when it came to you.

Pepper gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into her touch like a cat. “Boys. You remember (Y/N).”

You looked up, waving a hand that was hidden by your oversized sweater sleeves. “Hello again.”

A shy smile. Big eyes. A voice like melted chocolate. Bucky felt fourteen again.

He wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t get any words out. Pepper was on a mission though, perching her hand motherly on your shoulder and escorting you forward. “Right. The lab. This way!”

Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way down the hall, not stopping even when you faded into nothingness. He turned slowly, feeling Steve and Nat watching with matching smirks on their faces, their eyes flickering with childish glee.

He scoffed.

“Shut up.”

———————————————————

As the weeks passed, Bucky hardly caught a glimpse of you. He didn’t even realise he was searching for you, his eyes just flitting over the empty chair at meal times or trailing through the gym, wondering if he might make out the bounce of your hair or the curve of your lips.

Not that he had been thinking about your lips. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about your lips.

You had piqued his interest though. He thought of the way he had been when he first moved into the tower, and knew that the first few weeks were always the hardest. You spent the majority of the time in your room, occasionally leaving for Tony’s floor or the lab, but always hiding in the night and the shadows, falling just out of reach before he got lucky enough to see you.

Fortunately, there were enough recon missions to fill his days. He found distraction in snow capped mountains and dry, dusty deserts, searching for old HYDRA bases or intel that might have been missed. His mind was filled with coordinates and strategy plans, and that worked for a little while. Until the jet landed and he found himself wondering if you would be there with the rest of the team welcoming him back, and every time he was left feeling a quick, pang of disappointment when you weren’t.

Eventually though, things started to look up.

At three in the morning, like clockwork, he began hearing your door squeal as you opened it, and then the sound of sock clad feet padding through the hallways. The first time it happened his heart leapt and he jolted upright, convinced that something bad had happened. He didn’t relax until he heard Natasha speak, voice crystal clear despite the early hour.

“You ready?”

He soon discovered that Natasha had taken you under her wing, and was helping you spar at the times you felt the most comfortable - when the rest of the building was asleep. He knew he wasn’t the only person who was curious about you, wanting to know if you had any powers, and Nat had stopped Steve from asking a million different questions about you.

He didn’t want to make you retreat once again, so he left it alone.

Eventually, you started sleeping in, getting more comfortable and leaving your bed much later than before. The others still kept their distance, entering the gym just as you were leaving, drenched in sweat and smiling. The first time that Bucky saw you smile like that was after a run with Sam, and he swore his knees almost buckled at the sight of you, wide eyed and sparkling like a diamond, sucker punching the air right out of his gut.

It was just about dawn when he next saw you, the sun barely risen, the compound bathed in a golden, ethereal light. No matter how many early mornings they had had, the kitchen still smelt like triple shot espresso and cans of red bull every day, sleepy eyed avengers mumbling and grumbling as they fought over who got to use the coffee machine first. Bucky smiled smugly across his mug of instant grounds that Sam had so tastefully called, “disgusting cheap crap,” as his $3 coffee capsule got crushed once again.

Steve made some quick joke as he towelled off his hair from his shower, but his words crumbled into TV static when Bucky saw you coming off the elevator. You were limping, just a little, but enough to make his heart thunder in his chest. You were smiling though, wide and happily. As bright as the full sun, and Bucky wanted to stay in your warmth for a little bit longer. Natasha held onto you as though you weighed less than a newborn baby, and the two of you stumbled towards your room. Before you disappeared you shot a small and hesitant smile at the boys, one that pierced through Bucky like a steel bullet.

He wanted to keep quiet but he couldn’t. Not after he had seen you.

“You don’t think Natasha is being to hard on her?” He said finally, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Why do you care?” Sam had asked, halfway through a breakfast burrito that was dropping more food on his shirt than into his mouth.

“Camaraderie.” He quipped.

“Camaraderie my ass. Remember that time I almost broke my leg sparring with you? You made me walk myself to the clinic.”

“That’s because you were being whiney and dramatic.”

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Mr Barnes here is - ”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Steve said finally, cutting the conversation short, knowing exactly where Sam was going with his thoughts and not wanting to put his best friend through any embarrassment about his... interest in you.

Sam gave him a glare that said that the conversation was definitely not over, but Bucky ignored him, his eyes trailing the hallway you had walked through, his belly aching and flipping from the way that you had looked at him, filling him with a warmth that didn’t dim even long after he had fallen asleep that night.

——————————————————————-

Things really started to change at midnight. When the sky went black and turned into a blanket of obsidian and twinkling stars, that was when both of you came alive.

The nightmares were back, and they were bad. Blood. Metal. Rust. The pain that felt as though his bones were snapping one by one. Gasping for air. Sweat. Fists. Gunshots. No longer could he stay asleep listening out for you, his body didn’t want him to feel comfortable, safe, whatever the way you made him feel. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of something as sweet as you. He was not a man that deserved good things, and he knew he certainly didn’t deserve you.

The compound was so big and he felt so small in his bed. Sometimes he swore he could feel the walls closing in, even though he knew his quarters were more than triple the size of some of the hellholes he had been trapped in. He needed space. He needed air. And that was what led him to wander the hallways like some kind of spectre as the city roared and thundered and thrived below him.

The rooftop had always been his favourite spot. Tony loved using it for parties, setting up a bar and filling the hot tub with champagne and hiring some idiot to blast stupid music that made Bucky want to smash his head against a brick wall. But it was often just used by the team, swimming laps in the pool and laughing under the summer sun, strawberries and wine in the spring and late night swims in the rain in the winter, making Clint jump in the frozen water naked after he lost a round of poker.

It was one of the rare places that Bucky felt truly safe. Out in the open air, watching the water sparkle teal under the stars, the city so big and beautiful, lights flickering and horns blaring. He came up when things went bad, losing himself in the noise and the ice cold air. He often pulled a chair out to the edge, drinking a beer that had no effect on him but somehow made him feel a little bit lighter, just watching the world go by.

He hadn’t been up there in a while. The nightmares had stopped for a while, incidentally the same time you arrived, but recently they had started to trickle back in, like rain at the end of summer.

He was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a henley with far too many holes in, cradling a mug of cocoa with a shot of dark rum as he stepped off the elevator, stopping suddenly when he noticed the outdoor lights shining brightly. He knew that everybody else was asleep, and his field instincts kicked in quickly, until he noticed the soft lilac hue of your satin pyjamas glistening under the moon.

Perhaps he should have left. He knew that you liked to keep your distance and God, did he understand that, but his feet seemed to stay cemented to the floor. You were luring him like a ship to a lighthouse, beckoning him to follow you, and who was he to resist?

You were bent over a row of plants and flowers, watering them from a buttercup yellow can, your fingers stained with mud. You moved gently, tentatively fondling the leaves and petals and clipping away any stray stems and weeds. He watched you with curious eyes, amazed at how something so simple could show so much about your character. After so long of not seeing you he felt lucky to catch a glimpse, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare you off.

That was, until his foot caught the edge of one of the sun loungers.

For a trained assassin, he could really be a dumbass sometimes.

You looked up quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face just starting to flush. He held up his free hand, all the air leaving his lungs like a balloon. He stepped back to leave you in peace, but then he heard you softly say:

“Wait.”

So he did.

You looked nervous but enchanting, with your mussed hair and fluffy slippers and long eyelashes. You smiled timidly, but warmly, and looked at him. Really looked at him. And something about that made him feel truly seen, for the first time in a long time.

“Bucky, right?” A pause lingered in the air, he was suddenly face to face with you and somehow all of his words dissolved into the night air. You mistook his turmoil for something else, and straightened up, the trowel in your hand spilling dirt onto the floor. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you prefer James? Or...”

“Bucky!” He said, almost shouting, and then calmed himself down. He could feel a blush rising up his throat from his outburst, but if it meant you would look at him the way that you were, then he would happily embarrass himself forever.

A moment passed, the stars overhead round and full despite all of the pollution in the city air, and for once Bucky didn’t find them the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, um.” You were a little flustered, the apples of your cheeks rounding and your lips twitching up, like you were laughing at a joke he so desperately wanted to be a part of. It was infectious. You were infectious, and the ice cold assassin felt the frost around his heart start to thaw.

“Tony got them for me.” You said, barely meeting his gaze. “After everything.” You stopped awkwardly and cleared your throat. His interest was piqued but he knew better than to probe you, instead letting you ramble. “He thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. Something to look after, you know?”

He nodded.

“It’s not much, but sometimes coming up here and watering them just takes my mind off of things, you know?” You said, somewhat absentmindedly. He watched as you stroked the petals, pushing your finger into a droplet of water on the leaves. He wasn’t much of a gardener but he recognised a few of the potted plants. Forget me nots, African violets, buttery yellow primrose and icy purple orchids. You had other things too, sweet mint and thyme and rosemary, and budding stems of strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes.

It was amazing how much life you had grown along the usually industrial looking balcony. It was rare to see something thrive amongst the smoke of the city,

“I like it up here too, it’s peaceful.” He said, looking out at the skyline and smelling the crisp, cool air.

You mistook his honesty for an annoyance at breaching his personal space, and held your hands up apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You were about to make excuses and leave, not wanting to upset the very handsome man who had occupied far too much of your brain anymore, but he stepped forward and said quickly:

“No! In fact, I er - I think I like it much more now.”

You smiled, and oh boy, did Bucky know he was done for.

———————————————————-

Bucky started to like the nights.

After the first midnight meeting it somehow became unspoken for the two of you to meet up on the rooftop. Bucky never wanted to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see you again in the privacy of the twilight, the moonlight casting gold flecks into your eyes.

It should have been awkward. An ex HYDRA puppet and a girl with a blurry past that had just joined the biggest crime fighting organisation in the world should have found it hard to open up to one another, but somehow that didn’t happen.

You both kept the conversation light, the silences were warm and comfortable, and everything felt bizarrely natural. You’d often be preening your plants and Bucky would be sat on a lounge chair, reading a book and sneaking glances at you. You talked about the city, he told you how much it had changed since the 40’s, and you told him about the crappy apartment with no heating and a nest of owls you lived in before Tony took you in.

Family never came up, it was a subject you danced around and Bucky respected your privacy. He told you about his though, it slipped out accidentally when he saw you preening foxgloves the colour of ripe and juicy plums - and how they reminded him of the ones his mother once had in the window box of their kitchen. Somehow the memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and you expertly swerved the conversation onto something else. It lingered in his mind for the rest of the night, only dimming when he came home from a workout the following morning and saw a little vase filled with purple petals and a book titled “Caring For Foxgloves” left outside of his door.

His smile didn’t fade the whole rest of the day, even through Sam’s relentless teasing.

He remembered you talking about your favourite cafe off campus, and the white hot chocolate and raspberry donuts you would kill for, and took an hour detour from his running route to pick them up for you both to share later that night.

It was amazing, how this girl he only knew through the sounds from his wall was now sitting with him in the early hours of the morning, talking to him like he was a real person and not just some shitty science experiment. You exchanged books, giving him ones that you thought he would enjoy, and he devoured them in less than a week, finding traces of you between the pages.

The two of you never sat right beside one another. You knew his past and you were cautious not to overwhelm him, always leaving generous inches and metres between you both. For the first time in a long time Bucky didn’t want somebody to give him space, he craved those moments when your fingertips would brush as he helped you pot a plant, when your thighs would touch as you leant over him to watch the stars, when he could feel your warmth orbiting him like a planet.

He used to loathe the night time, but now, he spent the whole day aching for the sun to set so he could be with you.

Eventually, as you grew closer with him, you also grew closer with the team, and soon you were joining them sporadically for movie nights and “Friends” marathons and training. You mainly stayed with Wanda and Nat, the two girls sparring with you and showing you the ropes and coming from a place you could understand the best, but you always ended up back next to Bucky - and he loved it.

The rest of the team noticed too. The way that you brought Bucky out of his shell and he helped you to feel grounded. Steve instantly saw that the smile on his best friends face was wider than it had been in fifty years, and he enjoyed watching the two of you together, happy his best friend was happy.

Bucky felt his own change, too. He was no longer a blushing, stuttering mess around you, (well, not completely. He was still a wreck when you smiled at him, or laughed, or did basically anything) but he had found a comfortable middle ground in your friendship, the two of you able to tease and joke with each other like old friends. Finding ways to talk the whole night and day away, watching the sky turn from obsidian to sweet purple and then milky blue, both of you wondering how you had managed to once again miss an entire night quicker than a snap of fingers.

He knew that he was in deep when you got cleared for your first mission.

He remembered waking up, running with Steve, drinking coffee and making eggs, all whilst pretending he wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for you every few seconds. Sam came in with a smug smile and stole a slice of toast, buttering it until it was dripping and eating it in seconds, his brow furrowing a little as he watched Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked, shooting him a curious glance.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your girl?”

“She not ‘my girl’.” Bucky said through a mouthful of coffee, hating how the words made him feel.

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s not like the two of you don’t spend every second of every day and every night together, and it’s not like you’re totally head over heels -”

Bucky decided it would be easier to just cut him off, taking his frustration out on the eggs he was now whisking a little too hard. “Why would I say goodbye to her?”

“You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling a million tiny needles prickle his skin.

“Bruce signed her off. She’s heading to Madrid with Nat.”

“She’s what?”

That was all it took for him to leave, Sam watching him closely and smirking to himself. Not noticing until it was too late that the pan had started smoking, and the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air, and Sam was left alone to grab the fire extinguisher and coat the meal in clouds of white foam.

Bucky stormed through the halls, he wasn’t quite sure what his plan was, his mind felt like a bowl of alphabet soup and he couldn’t quite place his anger or frustration, but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the rooms with a face like thunder. He found Tony in the conference room, finalising the mission plans and murmuring under his breath. Bucky feet moved him forward before he could even compute it.

“You signed her off?”

Tony exhaled loudly, and with obvious frustration spun round on his three hundred thousand dollar shoes.

“I was wondering when you would pitch in your two cents.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Yes I do.”

“What if -? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if - ”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?”

“Look, Barnes. I know you and (Y/N) have been getting on well, and I know that she’s opened up a lot because of you -” He paused, mulling over the distaste in his mouth. “... As much as that might irritate me. But you don’t know what she’s like on the field, she’s brilliant.”

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second, but his blood was as cold as ice. Missions went wrong all of the time, even a simple recon with Clint ended up with them both littered in bullets, and the mere thought of that made his head spin. He had no real reason to be so overprotective of you, but he truly couldn’t help it, everything in him was screaming at him to keep you safe.

“Are you even sure that...”

“Bucky?” He felt like a scarecrow shoved in a pool of mud, stuck straight and stiff as you said his name and rendered him totally tongue tied. He wondered how much you had heard, and he felt like there was an ice cube trailing down his spine.

“Aha! There she is! Superwoman!” Tony said, clapping his hands together, always knowing how to diffuse the tension.

He turned around and felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. He could see Nat, but his eyes totally passed over her, because you were there: your hair tied up and back from your face, subtle makeup with long eyelashes and syrupy lips, a black and powder pink tactical suit that fit and hugged every curve and bow of your body. His brain totally let him down, short circuiting at the mere sight of you. You looked so happy and healthy and glowing, and also like you could knock him out with a single punch - and good god would he let you.

“Bucky I was erm, I was looking for you. I wanted to say goodbye.” You clasped your hands together, appearing so sweet and shy, a total contrast to the femme fatale you portrayed.

“Natalia!” Tony said quickly, and for once Bucky was grateful for his interruption. “Come and look at this strange bird with me.”

All of you knew it was quite possibly the worst fake distraction ever but you ignored it. Nat just rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the balcony, but not before wiggling her eyebrows at Bucky.

You moved forward tentatively. “I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn’t find you.” You weren’t quite sure why you were so cautious and apprehensive, desperate to speak to him. You had been travelling and fighting for as long as you could remember, you had spent many years alone and entered the battlefield countless times - and yet, that morning as Bruce gave you the all clear, the only person you wanted to see or speak to was Bucky.

“I was running, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, and it made him smile. “Well I’ve found you now.” You stepped forward, Bucky inhaled air so sharply it almost sliced the back of this throat. “I wanted to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you soon.” You paused, then blinked up at him almost cheekily. “Would you do me a favour? If you have time? Could you water the plants for me?”

He grinned, toothy and white. “Already on it.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

He put his hand on your shoulder, and he swore he could feel you melt into his touch, or maybe that was his knees buckling at his stupidity and the way that you were looking up at him. He wanted to say a million things, but instead he settled for: “Goodbye, (Y/N). Be safe, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched as you packed your things and headed to the jet, the rest of the crew coming out to say their farewells and wish them luck. His eyes were trained on you as you spoke to Tony, nodding your head as you listened to him. He felt Natasha sidle up next to him, her hair shining copper in the sun.

“She’ll be alright, Barnes.”

“I know. But - ”

“I’ll take care of her. Promise.”

“Thank you, Nat. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it!”

Three hours later and he was in the gym, punching out his excess energy. The bag was splitting at the seams, and sand trailed sadly onto the floor. Bucky ignored it, his hits getting harder and faster, his blood pounding in his ears. Since you had left he had taken to pacing the floor and biting his nails down to the wick, hovering over Steve as he spoke to Nat through her wire. He only left when he realised that he was driving everybody else crazy with his obsessive twitching and marching, taking out his frustration on whatever he could rip apart with his fingers.

“Tony’s going to kill you if you break anymore punching bags.” Steve said from behind him, his voice echoing around the dark room.

“Hmph.”

He couldn’t stop. His hands were red raw and his knuckles were scraped but they would heal soon, and he’d go back to tearing them up all over again, anything to get rid of the adrenaline and nausea that had been swimming in him since the morning.

A minute passed. And then two. And then three. He exhaled, pausing, his hands midway in the air. He was about to say what he had always known, right from the second your eyes met that crisp autumn day, and Steve was the only one he could confide in.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Steve hardly even blinked, just clapped a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, his brother.

“I know.”

Because of course he did. He knew it from the way Bucky smiled, the way he was lighter, brighter, like you had made him switch on and appreciate the little things around him. He had seen Bucky doe eyed and loopy over hundreds of girls back in the day, he knew how he got, but this... this was something bigger, magnetic, the clash of two electric people.

There wasn’t much Steve could say, he was great at saving people but not so good at the more personal side of things, he still turned into a puddle when Sharon looked at him. Instead he laughed, his teeth white as snow and his eyes playful and teasing. “You got it bad, dude.”

Despite everything Bucky smiled. Because yeah, he did.

————————— ————————————

You came back from the mission unharmed and euphoric.

And the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Bucky still tracked mud across all of the carpets and tapped his feet mindlessly for the entirety you were gone, but he was getting better. Steve had even bought him a joke present of a pear shaped and scented stress ball, but Bucky had ripped it in half when there was gunfire in the background of your coms, followed by an apologetic “Sorry!” from Sam. Bucky had then poured all of the tiny fruit smelling beads under the duvet in Sams bed, and then put all of his toilet paper on the holder backwards, knowing how annoyed he got about it.

Every time you came back you were exhausted and elated and beaming, and after having a nap and a shower you spent the rest of the day with the team, but the nights were reserved just for him. You grew even closer together. Steve had watched from the rooftop doorway gobsmacked one evening when he had left his phone up there, watching the way you two interacted, the way that he curled into your touch, never away from it. You got electric shocks when your fingers touched, you would blush when his knee playfully nudged yours at something stupid somebody had said at dinner, and you found yourself falling asleep to the image of chestnut hair and ocean eyes. You had crushes before, but this was all consuming, the kind of thing that made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your eyes turn into hearts.

You were worried that it might be one sided, but Bucky was totally, completely, smitten.

He watched you. Noticed the way that you smiled and laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear. He thought of the girls in the forties, with their painted lips and curled hair and immaculate clothes, and how you blew all of them out of the water, even in just your flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. The coil in his belly when he looked at you reminded him of being sixteen and holding hands at the pictures, but that had just been a flicker, and this was a forest fire.

The first mission with the rest of the crew was when things went sour.

He got to see how you acted first hand. The way that you were quiet in the jet, but smiling strawberry red, taking in all of the orders that Steve meticulously laid out, your eyes wide and eager. He watched you as he helped Nat set up the guns and stock the ammo, the way that you toyed with the knife in your boot, the gears in your head turning and working on something he was desperate to discover.

He hadn’t been on a mission with you, not only because they way you looked in your suit and the way that you grinned would have led to him inadvertently getting a bullet in his head, but because from what he had heard, your fighting styles were totally different. Your powers and your skills were a mystery to him, one that he badly wanted to solve, but you kept that side of you hidden and guarded with barbed wire, and he respected that.

You were paired off with Sam. Nat with Clint. Bucky with Steve. Wanda with Vision. It was a simple mission, there was some intel locked in a safe of a seemingly abandoned factory in the south of Russia. Tony had discovered the place crawling with hidden members of a gang that specialised in human trafficking and organ farming, and he needed what was hidden below to help blow it out of the water.

It was going to take a lot of skill. There was no doubt that the enemies would be heavily armed, possibly even with illegally manufactured weapons, and all of you had to keep your heads straight the entire time. He had wanted desperately to be paired with you, to keep his eye on you, (not that you needed it) but he knew it was out of the question. Instead, as you all split up a few miles away in the woods, he grabbed your hand quickly and rubbed his finger across your knuckles, looking at you intently, his eyes swimming with sincerity.

“Be careful.” He said, his gaze locked on yours.

You smiled. “Always.”

He stuck his middle finger up at Steve’s smug face as they headed towards the factory.

Things were going well. As well as they could be when they were covered in blood and sweat and surrounded by the sound of gunfire and cracking bones. Nobody had been hurt so far, the coms quiet as the pairings cleared their sectors and worked their way down to the basement. Bucky had just pushed the last man over the railing and onto the concrete floor below when he heard the crackle of panicked voices in his ear, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Sam?”

“It’s (Y/N)! Fuck! One of them took her!��

“What?” Steve said instantly, switching straight from solider to captain, immediately alert.

“There was too many, it was an ambush!”

“Sam just stay there and - ” Steve tried to keep his voice steady and level, but it seemed as though the walls were closing in. To make matters worse, he saw a blur of black in his eye line, and watched helplessly as his best friend tore down the stairwell, his footsteps a clap of thunder. “Fuck! Bucky!”

Bucky knew that he was going to get one hell of a lecture and probably some six week course in impulse in the force, but all that he could think about was you, his blood was ice cold, his body numb and his brain conjuring up a million different pictures of you that made him feel sick to his stomach. He leapt over the bannister and landed haphazardly on the floor, his gun cocked and ready. His eyes were nothing but jet black pupils, scanning for your face through the halls.

He knew that you and Sam had been working through what used to be the laboratory, and that was on the other side of the building. His legs and arms moved almost mechanically, determined to get to you as quickly as possible, taking out anybody that stood in his way. He could hear Steve calling from behind him, and the sputter of the others in his earpiece, but his focus was on one thing. You.

The men were big and brawny and mean. Tattooed arms and shaved heads and gold teeth. Bucky shredded through them like they wore nothing. He flung them over tables, threw them through doorways and dragged them up by the roots of their hair. They were strong though, laughing at him through coffee stained teeth, loving his anger and desperation.

“Where is she?” He snarled at one particularly vicious thug brandishing two assault rifles.

“Who? Your whore? Dead.”

He snapped his neck like it was nothing but a twig.

He ran from room to room, his boots squealing across blood and stray bullets, his breath as ragged and sharp as glass. Everywhere was empty. Rows of vials and big glass cylinders and cages for animal testing, there was nothing, the place completely ransacked and bare. He hissed, getting ready to fight his way through another floor until he heard exasperated grunts and the clash of metal from a small room off to the side.

He skidded into the doorway with his rifle up at his shoulder, his finger right on the trigger, ready to shoot somebody’s fucking head off. Instead he paused, his mouth agape and his hands lowering, the whole room standing still. There was a freezer. Probably for samples and test tubes and whatever crazy fucking thing they kept in a place like this, but they had used it as a cage, the handles tied with thick copper chains and padlocks. Sam was using the butt of his gun to smash his way through, and they were old and rusty and starting to crumble easily, and Bucky watched helplessly as he finally busted in, clouds of ice puffing around him.

Bucky didn’t know why he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. But his feet were as heavy as cinder blocks, and his heart was thundering in his ears. There was a small squeal, broken and half hearted, void of anything other than exhaustion, and then the smell of tears and blood, followed by sweet mint and wildflowers. Unmistakably you.

He wanted to run forward and scoop you in his arms, press your head against the crook of his neck and get you far, far away from this place, but he couldn’t move, and so he watched as Sam tugged you into him, running his fingers through your hair, cradling you like a child, soothing you as you cried hot, wet tears into his suit. And Bucky wished with everything in him that it was him instead.

He stayed back as you flew home with Sam. He kept away when you were in the hospital with Bruce, lurked in his room when you went over everything with Tony, locked himself away when you confided in Steve. He felt as though he had failed you, no matter what the others said. He felt as though he had let you down, and the noise you had made when Sam tugged you from the depths of that tiny little box, it played in his head like a warped record, haunting him and his dreams.

For a week he kept to himself. For a week he ran a different route and trained at a gym down by the water. For a week he took his motorbike out to a shitty diner in the bad part of town and ate soggy pancakes instead of having dinner with the team, for a week he did everything he could to not see you, thinking that would ease what you had been through, but instead it left you feeling torn and hurt and completely alone.

Tony made him come in to test out a new reloading system and so he reluctantly snuck down to the figuring range under the cover of darkness. He allowed himself to get lost in the sounds of carnage and the smell of metal, until he heard soft footsteps from behind him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You seemed so sad, and that made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. That had never been awkward between the two of you, ever, and yet now it was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

You wrung your hands together, your eyes flitting around the room, never quite landing on his face. That hurt. After a moment you cleared your throat, using the toe of your sneaker to kick up dust from the floor. “Do you - do you know? I mean, has anybody said anything to you? About me?”

He shook his head. “No.” There had been a million times when it was on the tip of his tongue to pry the truth from Nat or Steve, but his respect for you was stronger than his need for answers.

He felt his stomach flip when you finally blinked up at him. You looked as though you hadn’t slept and he knew he looked worse. You were still so beautiful though, looking so young and angelic under the harsh lights and surrounded by all the weaponry. Like a powder pink rose amongst giant, violent thorns.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Not for avoiding you. For letting you - For not being there for you.”

Your mouth was open, brows furrowed as you took in what he said. “What?”

“I should have helped you.” There was desperation in his voice, and he turned to face the targets rather than look at you, not wanting you to see him so weak.

You were silent for quite a while. It was difficult for you to digest his words, like swallowing glass. You had been under the impression that seeing you tearful and cowering and broken had scared him off, had made him look at you differently, but now you knew that he blamed himself. “Bucky...” You said, biting back emotion. “Its not your fault.” Your tone was definite. Strong. You wouldn’t let him feel guilty for something he had no control over.

He brushed you off, shifting his weight, turning playful. “Yeah I know. It was Sam’s.”

You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. He set the gun down on the table and turned to face you fully, his eyes solid and unwavering. “I am so sorry you got hurt.”

“I wasn’t - I.”Finding the right words was hard. You had so much you wanted to tell him but no idea how to, the sentences sticking to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. “It was just...Can we? Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“The roof?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, and Bucky swore even the strongest industrial lights couldn’t even match your spark. “The roof.”

Under the stars and above the city as the cars raced and the sirens blared, you told him everything. Growing up as a lab rat, twisted and moulded by scientists and pumped full of chemicals. You told him of finding your powers and being forced to use them for vile things you couldn’t even repeat, and when he heard the tremor of your voice and saw the gloss on your eyes his whole body vibrated and turned a shade of red that it was almost black. You told him how the people that created you had wanted you back, and how Tony had saved you from being taken again, how you owed him your life.

He wasn’t good with comfort. He wasn’t good with words. He was good at tearing people apart limb from limb and shooting them from distances and breaking their bones like they were toothpicks, but for you, he would try. In a move so unlike him that it felt as though he might have been brainwashed once again, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You froze at first, but eventually thawed and melted into him, grateful for his touch. You had wanted to be close to him since the first time you met but you held back, and now everything felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he gave someone a bear hug, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers locked around you, desperate to keep you safe. Perhaps it was way back then, a time of uniforms and alleyways and candy floss and city smog, a time he used to long for with everything in him.

But now the memories of the past didn’t even compare to what he felt when he held you.

———————————————————

Everything came to a head on the first mission you had alone together.

Two months passed. Two months of subtle touches and shared smiles and inside jokes. Two months of rooftop laughter and midnight meetings and eating ice cream straight from the tub as you sat under the stars. Two months of utter, dreadful, aching, slow burning, and it was driving everybody else crazy.

Mostly Sam.

“I’m just saying,” Sam had murmured to Steve over chocolate eclairs one morning as they watched you teach a wide eyed, love struck Bucky how to play Mario Kart. “Can’t we just lock them in a room? Force them to kiss?”

“No.”

“It’s just so gross.”

Wanda flicked a grape at him, smiling cheekily as it bounced off his nose. “It’s sweet.”

He cocked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild disgust. “Is it?”

Steve flicked through the files in his hand and licked whipped cream from his fingers. “He’s happy. Leave him be.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“They both are.” Natasha interjected from behind them, wiping sweat from her brow and pulling off her boxing gloves. She was monotone and her face was straight, but even the black widow couldn’t bite back the smile she had as she watched the girl she now thought of as a sister and the once murderous, unbeatable assassin arguing about blue shells on the sofa.

The first mission you had been assigned together was in a small town in the Midwest somewhere. There had been unusual sightings in an airfield in the middle of nowhere, and a fugitive from Germany had been spotted in the bars that bordered the little village. Tony didn’t want to send too many people and blow the cover, just your powers of manipulation and telekinesis to apprehend the subject, and Bucky for added strength and precision.

Initially Tony was hesitant on pairing the two of you together, but there was no denying that you both worked brilliantly together. You understood one another on a level that nobody else did.

Bucky didn’t get nervous before a mission. In fact, he hardly felt anything. He spent the hours in the jet preparing himself and his weapons, going over maps and plans until they were drilled in his brain. But as the two of you took off, you with your rose blossom lips and eye watering suit and soft laughter, Bucky felt a warmth coiling in his stomach.

Apprehension.

You were staying at a cheap hotel a few blocks from the airfield. Tony had thought of everything and booked the two of you in rooms the opposite end of the hall from each other. Three floors apart. Bucky had slipped the receptionist a twenty for the room next to yours. For protection, of course.

Working undercover could be mind numbingly boring. Hours sat in a parked car in the dead of night, freezing to the bone as you watched an apartment from the bushes, trailing a suspect for days on end - but any time with you was a blessing for Bucky, even if it was sat behind the wheel of a cheap car with painful seats and broken heating.

The mission was a quiet one at first, you’d spotted the subject and had been following him, but all he seemed to do was eat crappy diner food and watch hours of cartoons. You both remained a safe distance but you managed to eventually bug his apartment when he spent the evening at a strip club. Tony and Steve updated you often, they had intercepted his phone calls and learnt that he was sending out a shipment late one night, and the two of you needed to stop it before it reached the air.

The rain was torrential when the two of you left the hotel. You smiled secretly to yourself as you walked through the slick streets, noticing how Bucky always made sure you were on the side away from the road, and how he moved so that you never got your feet in puddles. You were in the middle of nowhere following a criminal who spent far too much time eating potato chips and watching Rick and Morty, and yet you struggled to think of a time when you had been more content.

It meant everything to you.

Staying up late to listen into his apartment, Bucky buying practically the entire vending machine, the two of you pigging out and talking about nothing. You had breakfast at diners and communicated at night through knocks on the wall. Whenever you were out and the air was ice cold, Bucky would always move in close to you, his arm brushing against yours, his body your own personal heater. He wanted nothing more in those moments then to pull you into him and warm you up some other way, but instead he kept his eyes fixed forward, and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You arrived at the airfield at midnight. The moon was high and the sky was dark and you both had to crouch low to be avoided by the overhead lights. You saw the suspect speaking to someone on his phone, and not long after a large white van pulled up towards him, the driver getting out and opening the boot.

“That’s it.” Bucky said pointing at the wooden crates. His voice was right by your ear, and you tried to ignore the way you shivered.“You ready?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Always.”

What happened next was mostly a blur. The two of you kept your heads down and your hands on your weapons, the pounding of the rain disguising your footsteps. You made it across the tarmac with Bucky covering you, his eyes alert and prepared for any imposing danger. You lifted your hands, ready to snap your fingers and apprehend the man rooting around the boxes, but before you could even feel the warm buzz of your powers through your veins, six men leapt out from the back of the van, guns raised and smoking.

“Fuck. Fuck! It’s a set up.”

Without even a second thought, Bucky pushed you aside. His body totally covered your own, and he hissed and swore, firing back at the bullets rapidly charging at you. You swung your hands and fought back, sending out flickers of fire and air, setting one of them alight and watching as he howled in pain. Bucky shot at everyone he could, sharp pierces right in the skull, always one hundred percent accurate, but his brain was whirring a mile a minute. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on you, his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t like he thought you were weak - far from it. He had seen you out on the field, been knocked on his ass from the aftershock of your powers more times than he could count, and he knew he had no real reason to be so worried but that did nothing to stop the prickling feeling across his skin like a million tiny little flames at the thought of you getting hurt.

You were determined to keep him safe as well though.You tossed back bullets and threw your knife through the air, smiling as it slashed through on of them, leaving him crumpled and crying on the floor. The two of you worked well together, playing off of each other’s attacks and combining your skills to get as many of them down as you could. Right when the last man hit the floor, you exhaled, and Bucky allowed himself a soft smile, looking beautiful and bruised in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you alright?” You heard him say, but his voice faded into static in your ears. Behind him one of them had struggled to his feet, blood spurting out from his neck, his face filled with nothing but venom, his eyes wild and vicious. You didn’t even blink, thrusting your hands forward and sending a wave of power through the air.

But it was too late.

He had already lifted his gun, a ripple of bullets flying towards you both. You leapt in front of Bucky, pushing his head down and trying to soften the impact, but his hands curled painfully around your waist, dragging you onto the floor and under him. The bullets missed the two of you by centimetres, piercing into the airplane behind you both. Your surge of power had knocked the man back and he was down once again, his body now pale and lifeless. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and Bucky’s. He was fully on top of you, warm and solid and absolutely seething, his chest rising and falling above your own.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Bucky...” You inhaled, trying to get him to calm down and look at you but he merely shook his head, his body vibrating blood red.

“No. We’re leaving. Now.”

———————————————————-

After the ambush, it was too risky to return to the hotel, and so Steve sent out coordinates for a safe house an hour away. The ride there was completely silent. You didn’t even try to speak or diffuse the tension, you could practically feel Bucky’s anger, and the steering wheel had even started to bend from his grip.

The safe house was a small cottage. The only heat was from a tiny wood burner in the lounge, and the only food on the shelves were tinned peaches and cans of custard. Everything was oddly cosy. Pink knitted throws and round plush cushions and mismatched sofas, dried lavender tied to the wall and exposed brick and white, ceramic milk jugs. In any other circumstance you would have been happy to spend the night, but Bucky’s sour mood was quick to dim your spark.

You sighed as he threw his duffel bag onto the table, angrily heading to the sink and twisting the tab, exhaling loudly at the thin dribble of water that came out.

“Bucky.” You started to say, but he held his hand up as a warning.

“No.”

“Yes!” You snapped, needing him to understand you. “You have to listen to me.”

He dismissed you, too overcome with annoyance to even process your words. You could have died tonight, and you were acting as though it didn’t matter. “You were a goddamn idiot out there.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He slapped his hand on the wooden counter, a slap ringing through the small room.“You jumped in front of a bullet -“

“You almost got shot Bucky!”

“You almost got shot.”

“It was what was best for the mission.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the mission! I only care about you.”

“What?” Your voice was soft. A whisper. You could hear everything around you, feel him before he even stepped forward. Your breathing was shaky, adrenaline spiking through your body. The man you were in love with looking at you desperately and longingly, as though there was a physical ache inside of him.

He shrugged, because what else was there to say? He was looking deep into your own eyes, wanting to drown in them. His face was stern and hard and he was pissed, and yet, strangely, none of what had happened seemed to matter. He stepped towards you, his gaze running across your figure, looking for any cuts or bruises one of those fuckers might have left on you.

“Are you hurt?” He said finally, his face millimetres from your own.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed you. His hands went up and into your hair, his chest pressed against yours, his lips were warm and soft and hungry, ready to devour the one thing he had wanted since the very first time he laid eyes on you. You melted into his touch and he smiled. The kiss got more intense, teeth clashing and hands under sweaters and his body rolling against yours. You moaned in his mouth and he bit your lip and your pulses synced and raced and leapt. This was six months of pure longing and frustration and the need to portray everything that had gone unsaid for far too long.

It wasn’t long before you ended up on the floor. You were both too greedy and touch starved to even stop or make your way upstairs, you both needed the other like air, like addicts desperate for another hit. His lips were all over every bit of skin he could find, you lasted like sweat and cinnamon and vanilla and he swore he would give up everything he had if he got to feel you like this, whining and writhing and grabbing him, tugging him closer and kissing him like an angelic little devil.

He had once been a Casanova. He had once made ladies swoon and mothers blush and fathers clench their fists. Then he had been shattered, rebuilt in a way that wasn’t quite right, his body used for torture rather than pleasure. And yet, with you, the rain pelting the windows and your bodies intertwined and your lips tasting like summer strawberries and everything that he had ever dreamed of - he felt whole, for the first time in a long time. The noises you made were sinful, and his thoughts were nothing but you,you,you, the girl he had fallen in love with through the sounds in the wall and with the flowers on the roof, the girl that occupied his brain more than anything else.

Everything was too much and not enough, his head was buried in your neck, your legs were around his waist, pulling him tighter, urging him to go deeper. He had dreamt of this moment for a long time. He had imagined a candle lit dinner and red roses and awkward touches and itchy dress shirts, he wanted everything to be perfect, because you deserved the world. But in the living room of a safe house in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and blood and surrounded by thunder and clashing furniture seemed oddly magical for a couple with roots like yours.

After, you were cradled in the crook of his arm, with your hair splayed across his bare chest. Bucky was having a hard time controlling his rapid pulse and heavy breathing because holy shit he had just slept with the girl of his dreams, but one look at you under the moonlight looking ethereal and exhausted and everything else just dissolved into wisps or smoke.

He wanted to tell you in a better way, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. His brain was fizzled with pleasure and dizzy with euphoria, and he just wanted, needed you to know everything.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since I first saw you.”

You froze. After a beat, you buried your face into the flesh of his chest, your soft laughter tickling his abdomen, his fingers trailing loosely across your spine. You smiled like a child, looking up at him with big eyes and heart shaped lips.

“God. We’re both idiots. I’m so in love with you too, Buck.”

He grinned, and he felt like his heart might tear in two.

—————————————————————-

You arrived back at the compound with interlocked fingers and matching grins and Sam nearly collapsed with relief. Tony almost went into cardiac arrest.

For the first time in fifty years, happiness followed Bucky wherever he went. Things were easy, light. You were his. You crawled into his arms at the end of a bad day and you laughed into his shoulder and you held his hand and kissed him and killed him and resurrected him all at the same time. He had never felt home in this modern world, and now he looked forward to each day and whatever strange and inane adventure the two of you would end up on. The anvil that had been crushing his heart for so long had started to lighten, and he owed it all to you.

Still, there were hard days. When he woke up slick with sweat with eyes wider than the moon and an urge to wrap his hands around something, or when you thought of the past and became consumed by the memories, tears falling down your face before you could stop them. He got jealous, and he had multiple stern talks with Steve about “not threatening the interns just because they speak to your girlfriend,” you could be stubborn, take on more than you needed, return from a mission with a limp you tried to hide, one that eventually led to an argument about your reckless choices. But nothing ever lasted more than a day. You were always there for one another, with open arms and gentle smiles and the unconditional love that people would kill for.

He had been in a million different situations where he felt like he was drowning. Like something was pulling him under the depths, crushing his lungs and shattering his oesophagus. But nothing compared to how he felt around you. Nothing could match the way you consumed him completely. the electricity that coursed through his veins when your fingers brushed against his, there was nothing quite like the way his heartbeat would slow when you were around, the way that he suddenly felt warm and full whenever you laughed.

He had spent so long alone. He had spent so many years fighting a war he never signed up for, and he was exhausted. He was starved of attention but terrified of exposing himself, and he lived with a chain link fence around his heart. Your soft voice so soothing, the sweetness in your eyes and the innocent bat of your lashes disarmed him better than any soldier ever could. There was something about you - something magnetic, magical.

Your sweetness went straight to his brain. One look at you and his mind dizzied, a sugar rush that only you gave him.

Whenever somebody asked where he was from, he thought partly of Brooklyn, of his mother and Steve, of cobbled streets and dog tags and ink stained newspapers. He thought of darkness. Of being moulded and reshaped deep down in the depths of bad places, of iron and rust and metal, his hands coated in blood.

But mostly, he thought of you. Safe and warm and sweet and so good. How expensive mattresses and dim candles and hot chocolate didn’t make him feel half the way that you did. How you grounded him, calmed him, made everything feel light and coated in sunshine when he had spent so goddamn long being frozen.

So when somebody asked where he was from, he thought of you, because you were home.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel oneshot #sebastian stan imagine #orionwrites

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heller-a-good-time · 4 years ago

Text

HERES THE MINI FIX-IT FIC IVE BEEN WRITING ALL WEEK! HAD TO GET IT OUT BEFORE THE FINALE TONIGHT SO ENJOY

This was the tenth night in a row that Dean wandered around the bunker completely wasted. He would stumble into bookshelves and chairs and inevitably, more booze, while his entire world seemed to spin and a goofy smile was plastered on his face. It was the only time he felt like he was able to smile.

Sam would always be asleep, or on a late night date with Eileen. Whenever he came back he’d find Dean in his drunken state and try to encourage him to stop drinking for the night. He would usually fail and then decide to leave him be.

Because he knows.

Dean never took all the times Cas was presumably dead very well. In fact, every time it had happened, it wasn’t pretty. But Dean had never been like this. Seemingly so broken that it was impossible to put the pieces back together again. It was different this time.

Dean couldn’t deal with the world sober anymore. He’d tried.

Everytime he did, he’d hear Cas’s speech ringing in his ears. When he closed his eyes he could still see his angel’s smiling face. After finally confessing his love.

And then the regret would shortly follow.

Because Dean couldn’t help himself but think that Cas was gone because of him. He wanted to go after Billie. He led them into that room with no escape plan. He was Cas’s true happiness.

And then after those thoughts would cement themselves into his brain for the evening, he would get rid of him in the most effective way he knew how. He would drink. He wouldn’t just drink until he was dizzy and euphoric, he would drink until everything went black and he couldn’t feel anything.

Because even through all the clumsiness and the giggling, he could still hear his voice.

I love you.

Just like all the other nights, Dean could still hear him. He reached for a new bottle of scotch off their shelf in the map room before falling into a chair with a glass already in hand.

He poured himself a refill, almost missing the glass completely. His limbs felt like Jello and the room wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to focus. But eventually he got enough whiskey into his glass.

As he took his first sip of his new drink, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander down. He looked down at the table he was sitting at and he read the name Castiel over and over again.

Carving his name into the table with the rest of his family’s initials was the first thing he did when he returned to the bunker. He refused to let himself relax with a beer in his hand until he completed that task.

Because even while he was fighting Chuck—the person he’d been hellbent on killing for months, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas.

But now when he looked down and saw his name everytime he sat at this table, it felt like it was mocking him. It just felt like a glaring reminder of who he couldn’t save.

Goodbye, Dean.

Dean took another sip of his whiskey. He could feel his burdening thoughts only getting louder. He hated himself for looking down at this damn table.

He pushed his glass to the side and closed his eyes. He laced his fingers together and propped them up on his elbows. A tear slipped down his face.

His voice was harsh and weak as he babbled into the void for no one to hear, “C-Cas.....Cas please.....I need you.....You’re my best friend......You’re family.” His lip quivered as he started to break down. He knew that wasn’t what he should say to him. But the one thing he wanted to say felt like it was trapped on his tongue. He’d suppressed himself from saying it all these years to the point where he felt like even when Cas wasn’t there and it was now known to Dean that his love was requited, he still couldn’t say it. He could only say everything else that he used as a replacement for that three letter sentence.

By now Dean was crying and covering his eyes with his hands. Little gasps escaped his lips in between his attempt to continue praying to the angel.

“Cas....Cas.....Please......Please come home.” He sobbed. He then got to overwhelmed to keep going.

He desperately reached for his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey. He knew now that he really needed to black out tonight. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

He let his head sink all the way down. His cheek laid against the wood and his arms were sprawled out on either side of him. His tears slowly rolled down his face and left wet spots on the table.

He didn’t even have the strength to get up to refill his glass. He didn’t even have the strength to calm himself down. He had given up on getting himself drunk enough to make him numb. Instead, he was feeling everything a little too intensely.

Probably because he just kept trying to push it down. And now it was starting to rise to the surface and he didn’t know how to cope with it.

He’d stayed in a state of shock for longer than he expected. The crippling sadness had started to settle in the first night while they were researching a plan on how to kill Chuck. But he’d grabbed the alcohol early enough that his emotions couldn’t overpower him in time.

But then it finally hit him the following night.

When him and Sam were supposed to be celebrating, Dean felt like he wanted to throw himself off the top floor of a building. He didn’t let Sam see him break down though. At least, not at first. But after ten straight days of his favorite coping mechanism failing him, Sam witnessed some tears here and there. He’d tried to comfort him. But he knew there was nothing he could really do to fix him.

Dean stayed motionless as he silently cried against the table for he doesn’t know how long. It felt like hours.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the whooshing sound of wings behind him.

It made Dean let out a loud gasp but he knew he had to be drunk. The alcohol in his veins had to be making him image things.

He felt a hand placed on his left shoulder.

“Dean.”

No. It can’t be.

He lifted his head slowly before looking over his shoulder. When he saw a tan trench coat he immediately stumbled out of his chair before failing to stand on his own and falling to the floor, the chair he was sitting on tipped over in the process.

When Castiel bent down to help him up and his piercing blue eyes stared into his, Dean couldn’t breathe. His mouth just hung open as he looked back at him.

He was here. Standing in front of him. His angel. Without a scratch on him. He still looked as beautiful as he always did. And Dean wanted so hard to not trust it. But every fiber in his being wanted to believe he was really standing in front of him right now.

Cas tried propping Dean against the table but it was no use. Dean was already practically launching himself into him, hugging him. His tears had transitioned from sadness into pure joy. His crying got so intense that he was gasping for air and his vision was too blurry to see.

He hugged Cas as tightly as he possibly could. Almost as if he was terrified he’d disappear again if he didn’t.

At some point he felt Cas hug him back—more gentle considering Dean was practically struggling to breathe.

They stayed in the embrace for several minutes as Dean silently cried into Cas’s shoulder, staining the fabric of his trench coat. All Cas could do was hold him and smile. He’d missed him. They’d missed each other.

Dean turned his head to the side as he had just begun to compose himself, “Cas.....Cas is this really you?”

Now it was the angel starting to get emotional as he answered, “Yes. I promise you, It’s really me.” His voice cracked in a way that Dean had only heard once before as he was saying goodbye to him for what they had thought would be forever.

Dean’s mind was flooded with so many questions that he was too baffled to even speak coherently, “H-How did you.....Why is this...”

Cas finally pulled away from the hug because he wanted to look at him again. When he saw Dean’s tear stained face, his smile grew. He couldn’t believe he was home. He couldn’t believe he had Dean back. He then realized Dean was kept in suspense waiting for his explanation. He cleared his throat and tried to answer him as composed as he could, “The empty.....it’s loud now. All the angels awoke and rivaled against her and eventually got so desperate for sleep....she set us free. I-I woke up in a random field and had been trying to find my way back, and I....I heard your prayers.”

Dean watched a tear actually stream down Cas’s face. It immediately prompted him to pull him into another quick hug. He knew he had to cut it short otherwise Dean would probably never let go of him ever again.

At some point while they were both trying to contain their crying, the realization that Dean had heard the sound of wings, which had almost become unfamiliar to him at this point, made him gasp again like he did when he heard them ten minutes ago, “Wait a second, you have—“

“My wings. They’re back.” Cas continued to flash Dean the widest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He knew how badly Cas had missed them. And hell, he’d earned them.

The two things Cas wanted had been returned to him.

Dean nodded and felt like he could talk to him now without bursting into tears, “That probably has something to do with Jack being the new boss.”

Cas got excited just by the mention of his name, “That was the first thing I heard over angel radio when I returned......You did it. You beat him.” His good mood seemed to be dampened a little as he looked down, “I should have been here to help.”

Dean almost scoffed at his self pity, “Cas....I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.” He looked over at the table at his empty whiskey glass and suddenly noticed how sober he felt. Dean was just plastered and sobbing his eyes out on the table but when his angel returned to him all of his senses went on high alert. The room wasn’t even spinning anymore.

They both felt air settle in between them after the mentioning of Cas’s sacrifice. Dean couldn’t help but replay the moment in his head over and over like he’d been doing for the last ten days. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he should have told him. He wanted to tell him the three words he’d been dying to say for so long, but he knew if he said them in that moment, Cas only would’ve disappeared faster. So all he could do was stand there, frozen in shock as he realized he was losing the most important person in his life.

Cas sensed the tension that was building due to the silence, “We don’t have to talk about it.” He looked down again, seeming a little sadder than he was before. Clearly he’d never expected to face Dean again after his confession. And now he was terrified of rejection. So he figured it would be best if both of them forgot it happened.

But Dean couldn’t forget. He sighed and took a step closer to Cas, “No, I want to talk about it.” The way Cas looked at him in surprise made Dean’s stomach do flips. He reminded himself he needed to keep going. He kept eye contact with his angel as he spoke, “Cas there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a very long time.”

Cas tried to silence him, “Dean it’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” He knew either way whatever he told him would be potentially bad. He feared rejection. But he feared the other possibility even more. He was terrified if he heard those words from the man he loved, he’d feel truly happy again. He was scared of going back. He couldn’t watch himself get dragged away from Dean for a second time.

But Dean didn’t listen, “Actually I do. Because I learned from losing you that I can’t be gutless and in denial anymore. Not with you, at least. Because I didn’t realize how little time left I had to say it. And I’ve blown all my other chances to say it.”

All these years Dean had wanted to. Sometimes he actually convinced himself to do it. But then as the words came out of his mouth, they weren’t what he had in mind. It was always, You’re family or You’re my best friend or I need you or I missed you, buddy. And he felt stupid every single time it happened.

He saw the worried look of Cas’s face and he suddenly realized why he didn’t want to hear it, Dean sighed and took another step closer to him, “Cas, I don’t know if this makes me selfish. But I’m willing to lose you again just so I can finally tell you.”

Cas grew teary eyed again. This was something he’d waited over a decade to hear, “Then say it.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he felt all the walls he’d built up over the years fall. He’d tried so hard to just look at Castiel, the angel, as his best friend. But he couldn’t. He was so much more than that. He always had been.

He opened his eyes again and noticed Cas had taken a step closer to him. They were a mere inch away from each other. He let the angel’s blue eyes pierce into his soul as he stared deep into them, “I love you too.”

The weight of the words immediately came crashing down on him. But he didn’t have enough time to emotionally deal with it because Cas was already kissing him. Desperate and passionate.

Butterflies exploded in Dean’s stomach. He could barely even catch his breath. This was happening. His angel was kissing him.

He wasted no time kissing Cas back, smiling against his lips as he did it. He’d waited so long.

Both of their eyes fell closed as they melted into the kiss. Dean placed his hands against Cas’s cheeks while Cas held onto Dean’s hips. They moved even closer until there was absolutely no space between them. Their lips moved in perfect harmony and it felt as though they were each other’s missing pieces.

Dean’s head was swimming in euphoria and his heart couldn’t stop racing. He’d kissed plenty of people in his life. More than plenty. But he’d never been kissed like this. So lovingly.

And now that he knew what it felt like, he never wanted anything but this ever again. Kissing the person he loved was way better than he ever would have imagined.

Cas completely caught him off guard when he pushed Dean down onto the table, finally causing them to break away from the kiss. He landed on his back as his eyes widened at the angel who was currently in the process of climbing on top of him. His knees were planted on either side of Dean’s hips and Dean laid in between them.

Dean assumed Cas would lean back into him and reconnect their lips, but instead he let his hands travel up Dean’s chest before finding his shoulders and grasping at the material of his flannel. For the next thirty seconds they worked together clumsily shrugging it off of him.

As Cas took the now discarded flannel from Dean’s hands to toss it aside, his eyes landed on something on the table.

And within a few seconds, Castiel was close to tears again.

This prompted Dean to sit up and look at Cas slightly confused but nonetheless concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Dean proceeded to follow his gaze when he didn’t respond. And he realized Cas was looking at his own name carved into the table.

Dean stared at the name for awhile before giving a sad smile and eventually saying something, “It just didn’t feel right not being there.” His voice came out soft.

Cas blinked away his tears and nodded. He then did lean into Dean that time and give him peck on the lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

(This will probably be up on AO3 too when I get a sec)

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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years ago

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So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I Part III | Part IV

Part II: Descent

The air tasted stale. Corpses didn’t need fresh oxygen to survive if that was even the right word. They could lay dormant for years, decades, maybe longer. No one had tested that theory yet. Hopefully, nobody did. The stench alone would kill anyone that stumbled across them.

Whatever Leon had expected behind door number one, dead silence wasn’t it. Maybe the distant lowing of the decaying dead or even the hum of ventilation. The base, abandoned as it was, clearly had emergency auxiliary power to ensure lockdown containment. Still, instead, he found a pitch-black sterile hallway with neatly labelled doors running down either side of the hall. Most of them were useless bureaucratic offices until the hall abruptly ended at an elevator door.

“First, I need power,” Leon muttered. His voice sounded far too loud to his own ears. He stabbed at the down button a few times, and as expected, nothing happened. “Right.”

Leon should have paid more attention to the signs because halfway back down the hall, between ‘Human Resources’ and ‘Server Room,’ he found a door labelled ‘Stairs.’ That was an option, but one that didn’t offer a quick escape. ‘Security’ sat directly across the hall; ‘Control Room’ to its left.

The door to the control room was locked. Not wholly unsurprising, but irritating nonetheless. Rather than waste time tracking down a key that was no doubt somewhere in one of the dozen rooms on this floor, Leon kicked the door. It barely budged. After a few more well-placed kicks, Leon bodily slammed into the door, and the thick wood finally splintered. He finished the job with a last angry kick.

Leon raised his gun and stepped into the room, ready for a body to fly at him any second from the dark. “Finally, some good luck,” Leon said. He scanned the room, his flashlight passing over desks of binders, paper, and panels of buttons. On the far wall, a row of lights glowed faintly, all red, except two green.

On closer inspection, Leon surmised that the only systems online were specimen containment and sample storage. “Someone used their brain,” he muttered. If he was lucky, any outbreak had been contained, but when was he ever that lucky.

A quick search through the room yielded very little. Finally, Leon found an abandoned keycard that he swiped off the desk and tucked into his back pocket. Probably wouldn’t get him far, but better safe than sorry. Next, he dug through the piles of bound operations manuals for a clue as to his next step. Everything he needed to know to get power up and running was detailed with step-by-step instructions.

“That’s handy.” Leon snapped a picture with his phone just in case.

The generator room was in the north end of the fourth sub-floor laboratory testing and specimen storage. But, of course, the elevator wouldn’t work without power, and the automatic magnetic locks on the lower floors wouldn’t open either.

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of fucking course. Better check security.”

The door to the security office is unlocked and swings open with a light push.

“Great security,” Leon mused. The room was empty except for dead security monitors, overturned rolling office chairs, and a mini-fridge that Leon did not want to open. “Guess that’s a bust. Onwards, and downwards.”

Leon busted into the stairwell with effort and a bruised shoulder but quickly discovered that he couldn’t enter any of the lower floors no matter the amount of enticement he gave the doors with his foot. The automatic, magnetic locks at work. But to turn on the power to open the doors, he needed to get into the fourth sub-floor; somewhat counterproductive.

Hopefully, the amount of time and energy it took Leon to break into the secure labs had been enough to keep whatever lay below contained. His last option was a small vent in the upper left corner of the room beside the door labelled S4 in peeling blue paint. But, unfortunately, it would be a tight squeeze.

Leon couldn’t pry the vent cover off with his fingers, so he trekked all the way up the partially crumbling stair, back to the first floor, to find something to wedge under the casing. But, instead, he found a metal nameplate in an office with an empty fish tank and a dead cactus. More living things that had suffered in the pursuit of the biological hack to weaponizing life itself.

By the time he scaled back down the stairs and pried the vent cover off with the edge of the nameplate, Leon’s shoulder ached something fierce. He tucked the nameplate into his back pocket, then grabbed the edge of the vent and hauled himself in. His shoulders were almost too broad, but he pulled his body through the vent inch by inch like an octopus squeezing into an impossible tight crevice until he found a grate large enough for him to escape through.

The metal cover clattered noisily on the floor below. Leon dropped down into an equally sterile lab-like hallway, except this one was trashed. Blood, grime, and gore coated the walls. The stench of rotting flesh was so overwhelming that Leon gagged.

Leon could spot two bodies from his tactical crouch, one behind a toppled desk and the other slumped against the wall ten feet away. The second body had no torso. Medical and lab equipment was strewn down the hall, lab windows were shattered, and splintered doors hung off their hinges in a still-life of pure chaos and devastation.

Glass crunched under Leon’s boots, and then he heard it - the muted murmur of the undead. His hands clench tighter around the grip of his Samurai Edge and flashlight as he swept the hall for any sign of movement.

A shadow out of the corner of his eye shifted. Leon spun. Two staggering victims, four shots. The bodies dropped. A crunch to his left, six more shots, three more bodies.

The still air behind him shifted, and he turned. Not quick enough.

Cold rotted hands gripped him by the head and shoulder, the sudden weight throwing him off balance. His flashlight skittered across the floor and collided with the frame of an overturned gurney. Leon twisted, throwing the body into the wall, but the zombie lurched, barely put off by the aggressive impact.

Leon doesn’t have time to raise his weapon.

BANG!

Brain matter and blood splatter hit Leon across the face. The body crumpled at his feet. Leon could barely make out the slight figure in the dark, but as she stepped forward, gun levelled at his chest, he recognized the long legs under a dark thigh-length trench coat.

“Ada.” Leon wiped the wet spray off his face with the back of his arm.

Ada’s smirk was lethal. “How have you survived this long without me?”

Mouth pressed into a thin frown, Leon raised his own gun. Ada Wong, mercenary to the highest bidder, was never a good sign.

<< First || Next >

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #RE fanfic #leon kennedy #ada wong #fanfic #post infinite darkness #post resi 5

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 4 years ago

Text

When We Were Young (part VIII)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here ; Read part V here ; Read part VI here

Read part VII here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, *moments of assault*

**This chapter contains images of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

B/N: I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies... All mistakes I claim as my own.

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

1773 words

All you could hear was the constant dripping of the pipes above you, one splashing cold water on the back of your neck. Greg hadn’t left you alone after unbuttoning Dean’s flannel, and rather decided to strip you down and shackle your hands above your head again after. Then he walked out of the room, leaving you shivering, still leaning on your naked and bruised knees, arms growing numb above you.

You had to have been in the same position for over eight hours or so after you factored in how long you might have been passed out, and your body felt like it was ready to snap in half. You couldn’t lift your head anymore, though you wanted to move out of the dripping water, which felt like standing under a cold shower. But you couldn’t be too worried about it, because suddenly you felt an arm snake around your waist and lift you to your feet. You felt yourself fall into a slight feeling of hope, thinking that perhaps Dean had finally come for you. But your hopes were dashed when Greg whispered in your ear.

“Okay, hunny-bear, time to make it up to me.” You whimpered slightly in response, and you felt Greg release his hold on your waist, your body crashing roughly to the floor, chains yanking your arms above your head again almost ripping your limbs from their sockets. You cried out with what energy you had left, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry hunny, I didn’t realize you were this weak already...” He trailed off, pulling you to a standing position again. He spoke like he cared about you, but you heard the smile behind his voice, relishing in the fact that you couldn’t fight back right now. “I’ll make sure to be gentle,” he whispered in your ear again, making you shudder, tears continuing to fall down your face.

Greg grabbed the back of your neck, bending you at the waist and holding you up on your own legs, rendering you completely powerless, afraid he would snap your neck if he felt like it. You felt fear course through your body as her rubbed his other hand slowly down your exposed back tracing a long scar down your side that you got from a vampire hunt, ending at your hip bone. You hated the way he seemed to be caring for you, his movements slow and careful, and your mind quickly drifted to Dean. Shaking your head, you dislodged the hunter’s green eyes from your mind, knowing you would need to repress this memory later on and it would be impossible if Dean was anywhere near it. Greg felt you shaking your head, and he stilled his movements, turning to stand in front of you instead, hand still at your neck.

“What’s wrong, hunny?” He lifted your head so that you were forced to look into his eyes, and he smiled knowingly. “Oh, I get it. You’ve moved on.” He gave you a small pout and you avoided his gaze. “It’s okay, I want this to be good for you. And honestly, it doesn’t matter what body I’m in anyway. It feels amazing either way.” You whipped your head around, suddenly staring into bright green eyes. Gasping loudly, you were suddenly pulled forward toward the lips of Dean Winchester. You froze, but felt yourself kissing him back slightly, your brain playing tricks on you. Dean pulled away and smiled at you widely, and you smiled back until he opened his mouth.

“That’s right, hunny-bear. Now we can both be comfortable.” ‘Dean’ disappeared from your view and you felt a small bout of strength, your body fighting against the chains holding you in place, trying to escape from the nightmare your brain couldn’t even imagine up. But Greg’s hands held you tight to him, and you felt his hips move against you. You were prepared to accept this happening to you at the hands of Greg, but you couldn’t get the image of Dean standing before you in the damp room out of your head. And though you kept repeating to yourself that it wasn’t Dean, it was becoming impossible as Greg continued to speak, Dean’s gruff voice floating up to you.

“Alright hunny,” he cooed, stroking up and down your back as you heard the zipper of his jeans. “Are you ready for me?”

You didn’t respond, your mind shutting down like it had so many times before to help you survive this moment. You felt some pressure to your core, and then your body was moving back and forth, but you felt numb, and didn’t say a word. You weren’t sure how long Greg used you, but when he was done, he pulled out, zipped back up, and came to stand in front of you. Dean’s body came into view, and he looked concerned, as he swiped at the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your face, cupping your cheek. You involuntarily leaned into it, and when you looked up again, Greg was staring into your eyes. You leaned out of his grasp, and he sighed, pulling you forward to kiss you on the top of the head.

“I have something I have to do hunny-bear. I’ll be back soon.” And just like that he was gone, leaving you hanging from the chains, bent at the waist.

You started to sob silently, knowing that Greg didn’t destroy you 13 years ago. He destroyed you now, using the only man you felt comfortable with against you. Being a hunter you didn’t believe in anything you couldn’t see, so you often refused to believe in God, but in that moment you felt yourself praying, reaching out to anything or anyone to help you.

You suddenly heard the rush of wind and the flutter of wings, as a figure appeared in front of you. Too tired to react you attempted to move away from whoever had appeared in the room, when you felt a soft hand on your cheek, causing a warmth to spread throughout your body.

“Hello, Y/N.” The figure began and you looked up into bright blue eyes. “I heard your prayer. My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.” You stared up at the man in disbelief before your world went black.

-----------

Cas disappeared as quickly as he appeared and Dean spun around looking for him in the small room.

“Cas!” He yelled into the emptiness, but the angel didn’t reappear. Dean scoffed, returning to find Sam and Bobby in the living room. Sam rose to his feet when Dean entered, looking questioningly behind him, anticipating Cas following Dean. Dean shook his head, throwing his hands up the air, when he heard the flutter of wings behind him again. The look on Sam’s face made Dean whip around nervously afraid of what he might find behind him.

Cas was standing in the doorway to the office holding Y/N tightly in his arms. He had shed his trench coat and it was wrapped around an unmistakingly naked Y/N like a towel.

“Hello Dean,” Cas repeated for the second time in 20 minutes, and Dean rushed forward taking Y/N out of Cas’ arms and cradling you tightly to his chest. You looked as if you were sleeping, but your face looked like you were in pain, stuck in whatever nightmare you were being forced into. Bobby and Sam rushed over to where Dean stood holding you, both men looking murderous.

“Cas, what happened?!” Sam was yelling, unable to control his emotions, and Castiel stood awkwardly, not having the people skills to deal with human emotions this complex. He took a beat or two to answer, but Dean cut him off, not ready to hear the story while you were still in the room.

Dean shifted you slightly in his arms and your face relaxed as he hiked you up, your head resting in the crook of his neck. He didn’t want to leave you alone right now, but he wanted you to be more comfortable as you slept, and didn’t want you to be naked anymore. He motioned with his head for his brother to follow him upstairs. Sam followed, and as they reached the stairs Dean spoke over his shoulder.

“Cas, stick around.” Cas nodded once, and Bobby motioned for him to sit on the couch him and Sam had just vacated. Cas sat awkwardly fixing his stare on the wall ahead of him, as Bobby left the room.

Dean walked toward Bobby’s room upstairs knowing you would feel most comfortable there if you woke up while they were downstairs talking to Cas. Sam opened the door for him, and stood in the doorway as you placed Y/N down on the soft blankets.

“Sam,” Dean spoke up, making sure you were fully covered with Cas’ trench coat for the moment after you were jostled about a bit. “Can you find Y/N’s bag and get maybe some sleep shorts, or something we can get on her easily?” Sam nodded, disappearing from the room. You took a second to take in Y/N’s appearance, not seeing any signs that you had been hurt, but you figured you’d learn the extent of the injuries from Cas, as Dean was sure he healed you before bringing you here. He knew Cas wouldn’t without permission, but he also secretly hoped that Cas had scrubbed your memories of whatever had happened in the hours that you were missing.

Sam returned while he was lost in his thoughts, clearing his throat simply. Dean turned around and Sam handed him a pair of Y/N’s loose shorts and one of Sam’s flannels, figuring it would work best to cover her.

“Can you help me?” Dean asked his brother awkwardly, not wanting to betray Y/N’s trust, especially not when you were sleeping. Sam nodded coming forward while Dean placed each of your feet carefully in the leg holds of the shorts. You were still in a deep sleep, your chest rising and falling slowly, so Dean pulled the shorts up your legs, careful to not touch you, and both brothers looked away while Dean slid your shorts up over your hips and Sam moved the bottom of the trench coat out of the way. They repeated the same process to move Sam’s flannel over your head and slip your hands into the sleeves. Sam grabbed Cas’ trench coat off the bed and left the room, nodding once at Dean with pain in his eyes.

Dean couldn’t stop looking at you, relishing in how peaceful you looked now that you were curled up in the blankets with familiar smells all around. He felt a tear slip down over his cheeks, and he swiped at it angrily, muttering to himself that he didn’t deserve to cry right now. Leaning forward he pressed his lips softly to your head and you stirred lightly, letting out a dreamy sigh, and Dean stood intent on killing the monster that hurt you before you even woke up and bringing his head to you as a trophy.

Read part IX here

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @akshi8278

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marvel--3000 · 4 years ago

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Mirage (5/???)

Summary: When 2 weird men show up at your job asking questions about you, you run, right into Hydras arms, you have no idea what they did to you in there, the Avengers help you figure it out.

*AU right after civil war, Steve, Bucky, and Tony are friends, and Pietro is still alive.*

A/N: this is my first thing I’ve ever written, soooo, some feedback would be appreciated, Hi I’ve been gone a couple years, and now I’m back, sorry….

I started writing this a long time ago, so the first chapters suck…. sorry

Pairing: Avengers x mutant!Reader

Warnings: some language, torture

Italics indicate that she is thinking to herself

~~~~~~~~~~

You dream of your life in the hydra base, everything is tinted red. You see flashes of faces, good and bad. You see yourself training with another mutant, you knock him to the ground and put him in a headlock. The scene changes, you see yourself strapped to a table, with the Trench Coat British guy smiling over you as you scream. It changes again, you see yourself crying in a ball, in the corner of your cell, trying to keep warm. It changes again, you see the goons kicking you on the floor, after your first escape attempt.

All of these memories scream through your head, until suddenly they come to a stop on one image. The man with the metal arm being shot in the back, because you can't reach him in time. You run to him as he falls. You catch him before he hits the ground, and lower him the rest of the way to the ground. You roll him over to look at his face, but when you roll him over, instead of his face being there, its Mr. British. You scream and try to push him off you, but he grabs you and pulls out a gun, he shoots you in the chest and laughs. You fall backwards, but instead of hitting the floor, you fall through it, into complete darkness. It feels like you fall forever.

You wake up screaming, clutching at the blankets. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out where you are. You see medical equipment, and hear a heart rate monitor beeping next to you. You remember, you're in the Avengers Compound, they saved you from Hydra. You relax into the bed and breath.

What time is it? You think, you look around again, now that you've calmed down. You see a huge window at the end of the room. Outside the window are trees, and a black sky, full of stars. So it's still night, how long was I asleep for? You sit up so you can see out the window better. You see a lake, and some lights below you. So I’m not on the ground floor, it's pretty here, quiet. You look away from the window and down at yourself, and notice that you aren't Natasha anymore, instead you’re a man, with hairy arms.

You gingerly try to spin your legs to the left, to dangle off the bed. It takes some effort, and a lot of pain, but you manage to sit on the edge of the bed. You start to slip off, so your feet touch the floor, then put a little pressure on them. Causing you to whimper in pain, but you push through it, as you've always done. You finally manage to stand on your own two legs, you look down to notice that your legs are hairy too, under the hospital gown. You also notice that there is a IV coming out of your hand, with a tube leading to a saline drip hooked on a metal rod on wheels.

You hold onto the rod for support, and take a step towards the window. But the heart rate monitor hooked to your finder stops you, you quickly pull it off, causing the monitor to have one long beeeeep, then power off. That will probably bite me in the ass later, but I need to see out the window. You slowly make your way to the window, each step a struggle. But you make it to the window, when you look out, you notice the trucks driving below you.

You look up and see the stars, they are beautiful tonight. Your eyes feel odd, so you close them, and rub them with the back of your hand, and when you open them again to look at the stars, suddenly you can see so many many more, you can see the sky as if we didn't have any pollution, or even an atmosphere. You can see the milky way, the whole galaxy. It's the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. Your eyes well up with tears, causing the stars to merge together, and yet, it's no less beautiful. You’re so busy looking up, you don't even notice that somebody else has entered the room.

“It's beautiful here isn't it?” Says a voice behind you. You squeak and whirl around, causing you to almost fall, and be in excruciating pain. The person rushes towards you trying to help, you look with anger in your eyes, ready to fight. But what you find is a concerned Dr. Banner, giving you the most confusing face. Your eyes soften, seeing that there is no immediate threat. You gain your balance, and stand on your own, shrugging off his hands, which you hadn't noticed before.

“It's not nice to scare people when they are zoned out.” You say in a fake scolding voice. But he just keeps looking at you with a weird face. “What's wrong Dr. Banner?”

“Hm? Oh, I'm just not used to walking into a room to find that I'm already in it.” He says with a little smile.

“What?” Is he a little crazy?

“Oh you don't know, you're not Nat anymore, now you're me. It's a little jarring. You can call me Bruce by the way.” He says looking you up and down.

“Oh! Sorry, when I dream I shift, and I must have shifted into you. Sorry.” you say then look at the floor in embarrassment.

“Nothing to be sorry about, but how do you look exactly like me, you even have my birthmark on your knee.” he says with a puzzled look.

“Oh, when I see someone, I can copy their face, their size, and any other characteristic I can see. But in your case, when I touch someone, or they touch me, I can become a perfect duplicate of them, I think it has to do with DNA or something.”

“Oh. But I didn't touch you?” he said with a puzzled expression.

“When you put the needle in my arm you did. I can shift into someone else if you want?” you say shyly, talking about your powers is always weird.

“It's fine, as long as you're comfortable.” he quickly reassures you.

“Cool.” you think for a moment before asking, “What are you doing in here so late?”

“Oh that, um, I told Friday to alert me if you woke up, so you wouldn't be scared. On that note, you really should lay back down.” he says in a quiet tone.

“You did that for me?” Confused as to why he would want to do this for a stranger. You start making your way back to your bed, leaning on the pole.

“Well yeah, you are my patient.” he says walking next to you. Suddenly your left leg decides it's time for a nap, and you start falling with a yelp. Bruce catches you with surprising strength. How did he catch me so quick? He helps you back to your bed, and you lay back down.

“Thank you, I don't know what happened, my leg just quit working.”

“No harm done. Are you alright, any pain?” he asks sitting at the end of your bed.

“I mean the bullet wound in my chest hurts, but the weird part is, it should hurt more. How long has it been since I got shot?” you ask, looking him in the eyes. His eyes are a very nice deep brown, with some bright green near the iris. Odd.

“It's been 3 days, but your wounds are healing at an accelerated rate, it looks like you got shot 3 weeks ago. Is that part of your powers?” he asks leaning towards you

“No last time I checked!” you say starting to worry about what Hydra did to you there.

“Ok, we’ll figure out why, but right now, you should sleep. Steve and Tony are going to ask you questions in the morning,” he looks down at his watch, then back up to you, “if you sleep now, you should get about another 6 hours before they come back.” he says in a reassuring tone. I can see why he's a doctor, he's so kind.

“I don't know if I can go back to sleep, I didn't have the best dreams before.” you say looking down at your hands, they are large, and strong.

“I can give you something to help you sleep better if you like, but only if you're comfortable, I don't want you to have another panic attack.” he says looking at you with concern.

“Will it give me better dreams?” you ask in a small voice, meeting his gaze again.

“Yes, promise, as long as you promise me that you won't have another panic attack?” he asks while standing and walking to a nearby cabinet, and opening it up.

“I think I can manage that.” you say smiling at him. He turns back to you with a small needle, and a band aid in his hand. He walks towards you and says, “You should lean back, this stuff works quick.” he cleans the area he's about to put the needle in as you lean back. “I will be here in the morning when they ask their questions.”

“Thank you, and thank you for being so nice to me, even though you don't know me.” you say smiling. When he finishes he puts a teenage mutant ninja turtle band aid on your arm. “Really? Teenage mutant ninja turtles?” you ask with a small laugh.

“What? I thought it was appropriate.” he says with a large smile. “Now try and get some sleep, I will see you in the morning.” he says while walking to the door “Goodnight Bruce, thank you…” you say, your words starting to blend together. He was right about this acting quick…

“Goodnight.” Bruce says while turning out the lights, he turns and walks out the door, closing it behind him. He walks back to the elevator, taking it to the recreation floor, where the crew quarters are. He walks to his room, and sits on his bed.

“Friday, please alert me when our patient wakes up.” he says then crawls in bed to sleep as well.

“Yes sir.” Friday whispers from the ceiling.

Back in your room

You smile to yourself, Maybe this place isn't so bad, Bruce is nice, I hope they don't think I'm hydra, I hope I'm not hydra…… *Snore*

Time Skip,

You wake up slowly, groggy from the drug Bruce gave you last night. Your eyes are too tired to open n, but your mind starts to work. You feel something, something is wrong. Your eyes pop open and land on a very angry, very tall, very scary, redhead standing in front of your bed with her arms crossed, glaring at you.. Oh shit. Natasha Romanoff!

#marvel #avenger #mcu #tony #steve #bruce #mutant #mutant!reader #i hate tags #avengers x reader

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sparrowsabre7 · 4 years ago

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Say Something Nice About Every Star War part 4 Revenge of the Sith

The opening crawl starts with a fun single exclamation. “War!”

The silent shot of the Venator class Star Destroyer over Coruscant*, followed by drums and then the interceptors flying over its bow and spiralling into chaos remains I think my favourite opening of any Star Wars film. Yes, A New Hope’s is more iconic and is still great, but ROTS’ is the perfect synergy of all of that.

I love the design of the interceptors, I like that they are almost like the bastard children of A-wings and TIE fighters. The ARC-170 is cool too, making that classic warplane noise with its engines.

The duel with Dooku parallels Luke vs Vader in Return of the Jedi very nicely. Anakin and Luke are both faced with the same decision, being goaded by Palpatine, but while Anakin gives in to his anger, Luke ultimately rejects it.

“His fate will be the same as ours” is such a great foreshadowing line. Like sure, it’s weird Lucas dialogue, but it works here.

General Grievous is a great design, though I wish he had been a bit more like his Clone Wars (Tartakovsky) counterpart.

Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are finally allowed to sell the friendship in this one. No more chiding master and unruly student, they work together well, they bounce off each other, we get the sense they are seasoned veterans now.

We have another moment in Padme’s apartment where Anakin lays his feelings bare. It’s interesting that the two times he’s most honest about his emotions is when he’s in Padme’s bedroom.

“Hello there!”

Obi-wan’s pose in the Grievous duel.

Shorter than it should have been but the duel is still fun to watch

Anakin’s conversation with Palpatine in the squid lake opera is moody and atmospheric and Ian McDiarmid sells this moment really well. Yes, he’s being very blatant about his Sith knowledge, but I feel like that’s deliberate. He wants Anakin to figure it out, he wants him to come to him of his own accord.

The Battle of Kashyyyk is very nicely laid out with the trenches and the droids emerging from the water. Just visually very interesting, a lot of stuff going on.

The silent (or it was silent until the blu-ray release) scene of Anakin and Padme staring across Coruscant to each other is probably the most soulful and thoughtful scene Lucas has filmed since Binary Sunset. This notion of the separation between them and how this moment is not centred on love but uncertainty. I feel this would probably have hit better on Padme’s end if the Rebellion senators subplot was left in as that also contributes to their division.

I like the little flickshot hidden lightsaber reveal from Palpatine. Something about it just satisfies me.

Mace Windu finally gets a duel, even if it is a little leisurely paced

Though it sort of stumbles in the final moment, all the steps to get to Anakin’s turn worked for me: it came from a place of good intentions, but those intentions were clouded by jealousy and fear. With the puzzle pieces put in place from Attack of the Clones it’s reasonable to me that Anakin would want to save his wife from death.

Circling back, I like that when Anakin says Padme will die, her first reaction is “and the baby?”. And Anakin doesn’t seem to care at this point, he’s so focused on keeping Padme, he doesn’t want to lose the thing he has, not what he might have. That right there points out this drive to save Padme is not driven so much by love, but by selfishness.

Order 66 montage is crushing and John Williams does not let up.

Yoda riding Chewbacca’s back is funny.

Ewan McGregor trying hard not to laugh at “killing younglings.”

The dual duels are both really fun to watch. No they don’t always make sense from a choreography point of view, but they are entertaining.

Yoda vs Palpatine still makes the 7 year old in me go crazy.

Yoda’s “failed I have” sounds so broken.

Though it’s cheesy as hell the whole lead up dialogue to Obi-wan vs Vader still hypes me up each time.

“YoUr nEw EMpIRe!?”

Ewan sells the “your were my brother” dialogue, even though some of it is a little Lucasian.

Intercutting Padme’s death with Vader’s birth/Anakin’s death with the twins’ birth is a nice parallel.

That *wheeze* THUNK noise when the helmet goes on.

Padme’s funeral with the japor snippet is nicely framed

The Harry Potter scene at the end apes Binary Sunset in a satisfying way to end the Lucas saga that brings it full circle.

*Does this actually make Coruscant the only planet to be featured in the opening crawl pan twice? I - Naboo, II - Coruscant, III - Coruscant, IV - Tatooine, V - I think nothing at first before getting to Hoth, VI - Forest moon of Endor, VII - Jakku, VIII - D’Qar, IX - Mustafar

#star wars #say something nice #revenge of the sith #films

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propertyofwicked · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do an a-z for dating dean please? I loved tom’s! 😍

i really enjoy writing these :) ive got a george one requested so i will be doing that later. hope you enjoy this one anon :)

a - argue

like the mature adults you guys are, any argument results in silent treatment till one of you realises your fault and apologises. sometimes it takes other people to point out your mistakes, but in the end you would talk it out, make compromises and understand your differences. a little goes along way with you and dean.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

dean likes your hands. he likes how they move to cup his face when you kiss, he likes how your fingers move effortlessly across your keyboard when you’re typing, he likes how they wrap around things ;) he likes how they fit perfectly in his and he likes how they run over the surface of his back.

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

you both spend a lot of time away from each other, as he is away filming a lot and you are at uni or doing coursework. when you do get to spend time together and it happens that someone is ill, you’re still going to spend as much time together as physically possible. you’ll spend the day in bed, wrapped up warm. If you’re ill, dean wants to treat you like a queen. under no circumstances are you to leave the bed, unless it’s for the toilet, and even then, he keeps an eye on you to make sure you don’t pass out on the way. he’ll cook you food and bring you painkillers as often as needed. when he’s ill, you’ll do mostly the same, perhaps try and move him to the sofa or go for a walk for some fresh air.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

to the start of your relationship, dean preferred to take you on high key fancy restaurants, but once you were comfortable settled together you’d go on cafe dates in-between lectures or just stay home and watch movies with some takeaway food.

e - engagements (how he proposed)

dean had taken you to venice for your birthday, and spent the entire week spoiling you,as he usually would much to your protests. on the last night before you flew home, you went for dinner and on the way home, he took you to a cute little bridge, tucked away from the main town. whilst you were distracted by the stars appearing in the orange sky, he got down on one near and called out your name to gain your attention.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

his parents loved you. his mum and you often cooked together whenever you visited for dinner, or you and his dad would talk about politics or the football. His little sister liked having a female around that was closer to her age, you were more of her friend than her sister-in-law. your parents liked dean, he was the most respectable boy you’d ever dated and they could see how happy he made you. out of each of your friendship groups, you both were the longest to be single, so your friends were just happy to see you not crying over some failed fling.

g - gifts

as dean was away for filming a lot, he often wanted to remind you of how much he loved you by getting flowers delivered to your house and when he was done filming, he’d sometimes brought back bits of set or props that he thought you would like. being a broke student meant that sometimes the only gift you could send would be some lovely photos specially for him ;)

h - how you met

often, your uni would use it’s rooms to host interviews for press tours, or q&a halls. the uni offered pay for a group of people to set up the rooms and pack up at the end so you volunteered. tt was here you ran into george and dean as it was a 1917 q&a. they were lost so you helped direct them to the room they needed to be in. dean actively stalked you down after the interview and asked if you’d want to go for coffee with him and you hit it off from there.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

whenever, wherever. he’s down. the amount of time you spend apart just builds up your need to be together, so you grasp at any chance you can to be physically intimate with one another. it’s when you’re bored of a tv program, or he’s wearing a suit, you get the gist.

j - jealousy

you get fairly jealous as dean works around and with a lot of people you believe to be better, prettier, that yourself. as much as dean reassures you, you can’t help yourself from wondering if he’d ever leave you for one of the actress he work with. dean doesn’t tend to be massively jealous, but the more time he spends away from you, the more jealous he gets. he fears that you will find someone who can be in your life more permanently and physically than he can.

k - kinks

dean likes edging/control. he loves to see you struggle to contain your release until he says so, and he loves to take you beyond the point of pleasure till you’re literally begging to cum.

l - long distance

with dean working away so much, long distance gets hard. Sometimes he manages to come home for the weekend, but he could be gone for 3 months at a time. every night, you facetime or call each other whilst just going about your daily routine together, as if he was there. just hearing each others voices daily was enough to keep you going till you saw each other again.

m - moving in

there was never really a point where you moved in with him. your stuff just started manifesting it’s way into his house, to the extent you’d spend ages searching your room for it only to realise you’d left it at dean’s. once you were going into your second year at university, you’d been with dean for almost a year and he just kind of suggested that you live with him to avoiding massive bills for uni halls, but everyone knew it was a ploy to be able to spend more time with you.

n - nights out

as a student, nights out were key to social engagements. so, your group of uni friends and their partners would head out to a local pub and spend the evening chatting drinking or playing darts. you’d both stumble home at the early hours and wake up several hours later with a pounding hangover.

o - open with each other

whilst he was away, it was hard to be fully open with each other, knowing that anything bothering you would just upset each other further as you couldn’t be with each other at the time. once he was home, however, it was easy to spend hours wrapped up together talking about anything that was on your mind.

p - pda

neither of you are particularly into massive displays due to the public eye being on you more often than not, but a simple hand hold or peck didn’t go amiss. dean preferred to save all of his affection for home, where he could properly show you how much you meant to him.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

let’s be honest, you would go into any massively deep conversation it’d be more along the lines of “how was your day? what did you do? did I ever tell you about the time that...” but it was the small moment s like that that counted.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

not at this point in time, as it is the start of your careers and you’re both pretty young but you had discussed it a little. if it was to happen by surprise, you’d both embrace it but one day down the line you fully plan to have atleast a child if not more.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

the simplicity of his happiness. it doesn’t take much to make dean smile, or let out a little laugh but every time he did you feel a surge of happiness rush through yourself. to see him happy made you happy, so you’d strive to do that as much as humanly possible.

t - together (what you do together)

you guys like watching movies, which isnt surprising given the nature of deans job. you also like to spend quite a lot of time in the bedroom ;)

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

it was rather common that you’d be out separately, you out with uni mates or him with co stars. drunk calls were the best, both of you becoming the funniest people alive whilst intoxicated. when he chose to stay home and you’d make you way back, fumbling to get the keys in the lock subsequently waking him up, he’d come to you and put you in bed. he’d make sure there was a glass of water and painkillers and a bowl near your head. you’d do the same, but drunk dean is flirty dean and whilst you were trying to change him into sleepable clothing, he’d make comments like “at least by me dinner first”

v - vacations

a lot of your holidays were spent on set with him, but sometimes you’d go abroad to malta or somewhere remote. you preferred quiet, adventure holidays than expensive beach holidays.

w - wedding

you had the cutest wedding ever. it was in this converted barn, with both your families and friends attending and the reception was basically a massive party in very fitting taste for you and dean.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

dean injured himself on set of 1917, where he slipped down a trench and twisted his ankle fairly bad. because of it, he was sent home for two weeks to recuperate, where you literally tended to his every need. you brought him food, drink, medication and care to the point where he literally had to make you spend time on your other work rather than him for some time. normally it would just end in you falling asleep, cuddling on the sofa, in your living room.

y - you (a random headcanon)

you’d had a long and bad day at uni, so you came home stressed out of your mind, muscled tensed and a pounding headache. the moment you stepped foot into the flat, you bag dropped to the floor and shoes kicked to the side, you walked into the living room where dean looked up at you and sent you a small smile. he noticed the fatigue in your eyes and posture, moving to pat his lap for you to sit on. You found your way onto his lap, legs wrapping around his waist as he moved to lay down. you hands moved under his back to hold him properly and one of his arms snaked around your waist, the other moving to brush a hand through your hair. his head lifted up slightly to press a kiss onto the top of your head.

“bad day?”

“very. but it’s slightly better now.”

“you’re very welcome babygirl”

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

dean would be in bed before you every night without fail as you’d be sat doing coursework till late. but he always stayed awake till you made your way into the room and held out his arms for you to climb into and rest your head on his chest. his hands would go straight to your hair and brush through them softly, lulling you into a deep sleep that he too would fall into soon after you.

#1917 #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman imagine #tom blake #tom blake x reader #tom blake imagine #george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield imagine

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a-singleboat · 5 years ago

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Veronica, JD, and Emergencies

WORD COUNT:

REQUEST: Ummm hey are your requests open? I was wondering would you mind doing a Damien haas x reader where for the Halloween they dress up as Veronica and JD from heathers (which is a couples costume btw) and that’s how they reveal that they’re together and stuff? You can do any couples costume you want of course Ive just been a really big fan heathers and I’d like to see Damien as JD whose like super dark so yea. Thanks.

Halloween was one of your favorite times of the year. As a kid, it was the one day that it was socially acceptable to dress as whatever you wanted. Now, you attended conventions that allowed you to get into costume any time you’d like but Halloween still held a very special place in your heart. This Halloween was no different.

For the first time in what seemed to be years, however, you had someone to coordinate costumes with. Not just a friend who reluctantly said okay but didn’t follow through, but someone that was one-hundred-percent dedicated to the costumes.

Recently, you had become obsessed with Heathers: The Musical. You had become so obsessed that you deemed it a perfect opportunity to dress yourself and your boyfriend as Veronica and JD, the iconic (or less than iconic, depending on how you look at it) couple from the eighties cult classic.

You pulled the black trench coat from your closet, putting together the costumes while Damien was by the front door to wait for trick-or-treaters that had to come out earlier due to bedtimes or curfew restrictions.

You made your way to the front door, picking up your croquet mallet on the way and slinging it over your shoulder. You walked down the stairs and smiled at the trick-or-treaters at the door that were taking candy from the bowl in Damien’s hands.

“You ready to go?” you asked him, passing the trench coat over to him. He pulled it on, rolling his shoulders to let the jacket sit correctly.

“Yeah, but are you ready?” he pulls your mallet from your hands and sets it against the wall. He pulled you in by your waist, looking down at you with concern in his eyes.

You waved him off, “You said so yourself, your friends are nothing to be afraid of and they’ll love me.”

“It doesn’t mean that you can’t be nervous,” he kissed your forehead and hugged you close. The doorbell rang again and you pulled away from each other and opened the door for the trick-or-treaters.

“Trick or treat!” they chimed, and you greeted them with a smile. You asked them what they each were and got enthusiastic replies back. You passed out the candy and waved to their parents as the children bound down the steps.

You closed the door and dumped whatever was in the bowl into the basket that Damien had bought to leave on the doorstep while the two of you went off to Courtney’s house for the Halloween party she had been chosen to throw.

When the two of you had arrived at Courtney’s place, you walked in and were immediately bombarded with people. In turn, everyone came to greet you and Damien as you made your way deeper into the party.

It was a low-key event, a few people from Courtney’s personal life and nearly everyone that could make it from Smosh plus a few of her siblings had shown up. You found yourself separated from Damien at one point during the party but quickly were found by Olivia, who you were told was an interesting person and an amazing friend.

Olivia stayed with you for a majority of the night, or at least until Damien made his way back to you with Sam and Shayne in tow. Olivia introduced you to her boyfriend and Damien introduced you to Shayne.

“It’s weird how we never actually met,” you mentioned to Shayne. “Every time you’ve been over at Damien’s place, I’m just never there.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy but it’s finally insane to meet you. Damien talks about you a lot, he said you’re a doctor?”

“Yeah, I’m a trauma surgeon and I’ve got tonight off, thankfully,” you held up your phone and shook it a little. “Still, at the first call, I’ll have to ditch.”

“Well,” Shayne held up his cup of cola. “Let’s hope there aren’t any accidents of any kind tonight.”

You held your bottle of water up in response and drank from it after tapping plastic to plastic. You laughed at how ridiculous it was.

Toward the end of the night, after most of the crowd had started to leave, it was down to the small group of you, Damien, Shayne, Ian, Courtney, and her sister Kari.

You anxiously checked your pager, because although it was your night off there could be an all hands on deck situation at any time. When nothing showed up, you tried to relax into Damien’s side.

“So I’m laying at the top of this cliff, with a dog leash wrapped around my legs and my arm reaching out for my phone because I was gonna try to call one of my friends who had gone hiking with me but we got separated,” Shayne told his story, making it as dramatic as it possibly could be. “So I almost get my phone when this asshole dog runs and pushes my phone even further away from me.”

Your phone started to ring and you excuse yourself from the group, moving to the kitchen. You answered the call and lo and behold it was a call for you.

You hurriedly half-jogged over to Damien and asked for his car keys. “Can you get a ride back to mine or are you gonna go home? There’d a multi-car pileup and they’re sending as many as they can to my hospital.”

“I’ll go back to your’s, I think Shayne can drive me,” Damien looked to Shayne for confirmation.

You left Courtney’s house after thanking her several times over and apologized for having to leave so abruptly.

When you reached the hospital, a few ambulances had already started to pull in. You half ran in and immediately sanitized and got your gown on. Lives were at stake and there was no messing around.

Several hours later, around two in the morning, was when most patients were attended to and you could leave by that point. You drove yourself back home and nearly fell asleep at the wheel once you had parked.

You saw your porch light turn on and Damien come out of the house. He opened the door and helped you out, allowing you to rely on him to keep you standing. Your feet were killing you, because not once had you thought to change out of the shoes you were wearing, opting to put covers over them to get to the patients faster.

Damien brought you into the house and ran you a bath, helping you get into it and staying in the bathroom with you just in case you fell asleep in the water.

“I love you, thank you for dressing up with me. I’m sorry I had to leave you at Courtney's like that,” you said, leaning on his shoulder once you had gotten yourself out of the bath and into bed.

“Don’t worry about any of it. I had an amazing night,” he kissed your forehead and pulled the sheets up close to him, “and I love you too.”

#damien haas #damien haas x reader #damien #haas #courtney miller #shayne topp #ian hecox #olivia sui #sam lerner #kari miller #halloween #doctor #smosh #smosh games #smosh pit

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Dancer IV: Hollow Victory

It was about 8 pm at night when I got the knock on the door. Ru’Yi was still awake, laying on her stomach and lifting her head from the bed in an attempt to stretch for a small toy that I deliberately placed just out of reach.

Immediately, my senses were keen. I hadn’t ordered anything and I wasn’t expecting any visitors.

I peered out the peephole. It was Crow!

I undid the chain from the door.

The Japanese man wore a black trenchcoat with the colored lining that showed that he was a member of the Hydra clan. He gave me a kind smile. “Carli, how have you been?”

“Alright. Staying safe.”

He nodded once. “I need to talk to you.”

I let him in and closed the door, redoing the deadbolt and chain, looking back at him uncertainly.

As soon as he saw little Ru’Yi, his eyes lit up. “Look at how big she is!” He hurried to her and picked her up holding her up into the air. “Hey there!”

Ru’Yi curled her fingers into her mouth and giggled.

I thought Crow would pass out, he was so enthralled. He looked at me, eyes bright. “She smiled at me!”

Crow held her close. “What’s so funny! You think something’s funny?” He cooed at her.

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. “You’re sure you don’t have any kids?”

Crow sighed wistfully. “Kinda need a woman for that.”

I flinched. “Oh... sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I noticed a hint of sadness as he turned away from me but it was gone in a flash. “I actually have something I need to tell you. I’m not here for a casual visit.”

He sat down, cradling Ru’Yi in his lap. “I’m here to take you. You’re completely surrounded by Hydra agents. ”

I gasped. “What?”

He already had Ru’Yi. I trusted him and he just took advantage! I bared my teeth at him. “No...”

“Woah! Easy! Easy!” He tried to reassure me as my eyes had started to burn with Dragon fury. “I’m on your side, remember? I’m going to take you to Lu Mingfei as part of my friendship with him and I will pretend to capture him as well. I would have told you earlier but there was just no way.”

I tried to take slow calming breaths, watching Ru’Yi grab at the man’s fingers, trying to figure out how to take his large ring off. She attempted to use her mouth, but he pulled his hand away, lightly tapping her cheek.

“Don’t worry about doing and saying anything. This is under my control now. You can relax.” He looked down at Ru’Yi. “I won’t let anything happen to this precious little gem here, right?” He tickled her, chuckling at her wriggling.

My heart felt like a stone. My mind understood the plan but, at the same time, I couldn’t stand that he held on to Ru’Yi.

“You have things to pack. Let’s go ahead and pack them.” He said.

We fit what supplies we could, with an emphasis on diapers and wipes, into the suitcases that EVA had bought me.

“Don’t worry about the rest of it, I’ll have my men clean out your hotel room and get you the things you need later.” Crow put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s scary to trust me but trust me. They really think I’m here to turn you in.”

We stepped out onto a a street that had been cleared out and closed off. On every corner were agents in black trench coats, brandishing bright swords.

I put Ru’Yi in the back car seat. I’d already fed her, hoping that she’d sleep for the rest of the night. While back there I saw the car was full of even more supplies! I gasped.

“Shh...” He said winking at me, “Come to the front seat.”

I nodded, lowering my head and trying to look as guilty as possible. “I got you a few more things... my treat.”

Even though he was being very kind, I watched as we drove, trying my best to remember landmarks as we passed by. But Crow took a circuitous route and it wasn’t long before I was hopelessly disoriented. Finally, we got on the highway headed to Tokyo.

While he drove, he talked to me. “You and Lu Mingfei are close friends of the Hydra Clans and especially my friend, Chisei Gen. But a letter issued by EVA for your arrest has been issued to all branches around the world. You’re to be returned to Cassell. Dead or alive.”

“Everyone has accepted the assignment of hunting you down, including Hydra.”

“I’ve accepted the hunt as well...” He said. “But only as the leader of Hydra. I am still your friend. I will not turn you over. This is my decision and I will be responsible for it alone. In the unlikely event that I fail and you are caught, I will take the full responsibility for my own actions in betraying the Academy.”

“What will they do to you?” I looked up at him, concerned.

“Let me worry about that. You think this is the first time I’ve played two sides?” He glanced at me, the street lamps reflecting off his sunglasses.

I sat back, silent.

He glanced into the rearview mirror and smiled at the sleeping child.

After about an hour and a half, we pulled in front of an internet cafe and inn. He parked and pulled out his phone, speaking in low but commanding tones in rapid Japanese.

One by one, all the shops on the street began to turn their open signs over. Lights went out. In the inn, people were milling about the exits until a man, presumably the owner, opened the doors and let out the staff. Crow opened his car door to get out. I craned my neck to see. Crow was laughing and patting the cafe owner’s shoulder before waving goodbye.

Within a few minutes, the entire street was clear.

Crow returned to the car, leaned inside it and laid onto the horn. Frantic, I flailed at him. “What are you DOING?!”

Ru’Yi startled awake and began to cry. He looked horrified at his blunder while I crawled into the back seat to get her out and comfort her. Crow chuckled. “Oops...”

When I turned and looked again, I saw him waving at someone in the upper floors of the building. I looked down at the sobbing baby and shushed her. She calmed almost immediately, much to my relief.

Crow opened his trench coat wide. “Long time, no talk? Look, no weapons!”

Then he opened the back door and let me out.

I held Ru’Yi to myself as we passed through the corridor. All the rooms in the inn were empty.

Crow stopped in front of me. He faced off with a serious-faced Mingfei. Nono stood behind him.

“Carli!” Mingfei exclaimed. He reached out to me, but Crow’s arm extended in front of me, preventing me from moving forward. Mingfei’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

I hadn’t seen Nono since she left for Italy over a year ago. She was still as beautiful as ever, not aged a day. But she only glanced at me, unsmiling, clutching a submachine gun.

Crow introduced himself first, giving a slight bow. “Saeki Ryuuji, the current Acting Director of the Japanese Executive Department. I fought beside you once, Mr. Lu.”

Mingfei slid a large dagger from his coat sleeve to his hand, unmoved by such nostalgia. I winced, taking a step back. I’d never seen such a killer look in MIngfei’s eyes before, like he could strike in an instant and kill this experienced gangster.

Mingfei snarled. “You have deployed at least fifty people near this building. They are all elites of the Japanese Executive Department. You are a White King Hybrid. I don’t take that lightly. You come here using Carli and Ru’Yi as shields... right?”

Mingfei’s eyes shifted upward, as though to look through the ceiling. “Oh, and there is a helicopter too, right? There are not many tall buildings nearby, and a sniper doesn’t have a good position. It is different if a helicopter is dispatched. Best to have a good sniper to tie up loose ends.”

My eyes widened. Was this really Mingfei?

Crow seemed to agree. “You weren’t this good before.” He nodded, admitting it. “This time the newly formed Crane Group of the Executive Department has been dispatched and it includes many ruthless characters from the Devil Clan. Now you are a real S-class. If we want to catch you, we have to work hard. It would be unwise for me to come empty handed.”

Mingfei glanced at me.

I kept my silence. My pulse was racing but I didn’t move. Like his meet up with me, there was no way for Crow to alert Mingfei of our arrival. With his being this aggressive and jumpy, he likely he would have fled had their been advance notice.

“So we’re no longer friends?” Mingfei asked, looking back at Crow.

“Are you asking me? Or Hydra?”

Mingfei looked confused and then looked at me. I gave him a slight smile and nod.

“When it comes to the Hydra... of course not! The Hydra is part of the Secret Society which you have been accused of betraying! But of course, you and I are friends.” Crow said.

“Is this how the Japanese do things? Only you’re allowed to kill your former brothers? Other people aren’t allowed to kill them?” Nono asked.

Crow seemed to revel in their skepticism. He smiled broadly. “No. I’m going to come into your room, you’re going to assault me and take me prisoner!” Crow sighed. “Nono, Mr. Lu. You’re not disposable friends.”

Nono and Mingfei stood there stunned for a moment. I finally let myself smile more widely.

Nono was still unconvinced. “Hold on. Saeki... Saeki right? This is too complicated and dangerous. If you want us to escape you should have just told us there was danger and we would have left. There’s no need for this!”

Crow sighed again. “You don’t understand my position. If the Hydra is seen as protecting you, we would be in for a confrontation we can’t afford! We knew when you arrived in Tokyo. I knew the location of Carli! We have to pretend to cooperate with Cassell!”

Mingfei was still hesitant.

“There may even be turncoats in the Hydra who would inform the Academy if we even attempted to contact you. So I pretended to keep Carli safe as bait so she could contact me, and I’m pretending to use her now. Do you understand? I’ve made it clear to the Academy that I would not kill you but deliver you alive to them.”

“But just as negotiations were going well...” He suddenly grabbed Mingfei’s arm and held his knife against his own throat! “A reversal! You are fierce fugitive! Not only did I not convince you, but you suddenly caught me! How can a bunch of gangsters take on an S-Grade Ace from the Academy? No one will question it!”

Lu Mingfei just stood there, his hand held by Crow. He looked back at Nono, bewildered.

There was the Mingfei I remembered.

Crow’s eyes widened. “Wait. I forgot. It won’t be convincing unless I look beaten up.”

“What?!” I hissed. “Crow...”

“You uh... might want to turn around for this.” Nono strode forward without hesitation, cracking her knuckles. “This won’t be suitable for children.”

I turned around clasping Ru’Yi to myself. I winced with every crack of her fist against Crow’s skull, every grunt, and hiss. Nono had a chance to vent her frustration and took it, unleashing a series of combos worthy of a professional boxer. Just the sound of it made me want to ring the bell and declare her the winner!

When it was finally over, I looked back. Crow was staggering to his feet, looking like he’d been beaten in a hard fight. “Thank you for... sparing my teeth...” He murmured, wiping the blood from his lips.

He smiled again. “Alright. If you’re ready? We get one chance at this.”

The door opened behind Nono.

My body reacted first at the sight of the person behind the door. I gasped, the air sucking loudly through my teeth. My throat closed and tears blurred my vision. My heart seemed to leap and drop all at once. I let out a loud desperate cry.

Crow turned to me, his sunglasses eskew at my sudden violent emotional outburst. “Eh?”

Nono look behind her. “Chu Zihang! I told you to stay in the room!”

I ran to him. “Johann! Johann!”

Johann’s eyes widened and he backed away.

Mingfei had grabbed me, holding me back. “Easy! Carli! Wait! I need you to listen!”

Johann Chu stared at me with nervousness and fear. I kept pulling away from Mingfei until he had to grab me with both hands. “Carli, stop!”

“JOHANN!” I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to crawl to him, reach for him while still holding Ru’Yi to me.

Nono pulled Johann back into the room.

Johann asked very quietly. “Who is that...?” Before she closed the door.

“Carli! Please... he doesn’t know you.” Mingfei said.

His words. They were like a death knell. A heavy darkness descended on my world.

“I’ll explain later...” Mingfei was holding me, hugging me, murmurring into my ears. “But for now, we need to get out of here.”

He stood up, trying to get me off the floor, but I had no strength to stand.

“What... the hell?” Crow asked. “Mingfei, You need to take me hostage... can that guy carry her? Nono can take the baby.”

Mingfei nodded and knelt next to me again, looking into my eyes.

“Carli. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He chuckled, his default reaction to anything that made him anxious. “At least this way, you’ll be able to hug him tight okay?”

He stood up and went back into the inn room. I sat on the floor, staring blankly at the door until it opened. Nono emerged first, taking Ru’Yi from me. Johann knelt next to me and picked me up easily off the floor. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my tears soaking his shirt. “Johann... Johann... I missed you. I missed you.”

I heard Crow loudly protesting. “Mr. Lu! No! Don’t do this! You still have a chance! This will break your own retreat! Aaaaaah!”

Who knew he was such a good actor?

With the farce clearly very convincing, we made our way back to Crow’s red sports car. With Crow driving and Mingfei in front, I was forced to hold Ru’Yi in my lap, putting the carseat in the trunk. Nono sat between Johann and I. She and Mingfei brought cans of beer with them.

I was still too young to drink so she gave me a yogurt.

Johann asked in a meek and quiet voice. “May I have a yogurt drink too?”

Nono obliged.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. His eyes were black, but he wasn’t wearing any contacts. He seemed lonely, nervous and confused.

Nono turned to me and gently explained. “Johann’s mind stopped aging at fifteen. He may look like the man you married, but in his head, he’s just a fifteen year old boy.”

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing #Mingfei Lu #Nono #Johann Chu #Chu Zihang

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