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sortasirius · 4 years

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What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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anika-ann · 4 years

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Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading!

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 2

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence, slow burn Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist

You were sobbing. That’s all you knew as you started to come out of your daze. The realization that had hit you suddenly had made everything cloudy, unsure, scary.

There was someone next to you watching you crumble. Part of you expected it to be him as you turned your head, but no. He was still living on the television. Living in your head. Unreal and very real all at the same time.

The person in flesh beside you was just your coworker. The expression she wore was more terrified than worry. But you didn’t know what to do, so you just turned back to television.

The news was doing a special on him, on his history. Some of the things you had seen nearly much first-hard through those haunted memories. You felt like you were watching a highlight reel of your life. It felt so real and so far away. It was stunning. Utterly and completely stunning.

But as fast as everything hit you, the news moved on, unaware and unaffected. The report had come and gone. The pictures of him went, too.

Him.

Finally, you could take a deep breath as you were forced to come to terms with reality. People were still watching you. Not staring per se, but definitely observing and mumbling to their friends. You peeled your gaze away from them to face your overly worried coworker. You finally noticed the hands she had on your shoulders, trying to wrap you in comfort from your outburst.

When she saw you realizing she was there, she softly asked, “Are you okay?”

You hesitantly shook your head and as if some miracle, your boss came in to start their afternoon shift. Your coworker called out saying you weren’t feeling well and would be in the back for a bit. Your boss barely responded, too stunned at the situation he walked into but nevertheless waved you two away in silent permission.

She guided you to the back, holding your shoulders firmly as you sniffled and shuffled along. Your heart was heavy. Your mind was not doing any better.

Your coworker sat you down at the backroom table. You ran your hands through your hair, trying to soothe yourself. Your brain was an absolute mess. Seeing that picture, feeling him... It was him. It truly was. You thought it’d be harder having practically nothing to go off of but everything fell together like little puzzle pieces. The arm was the biggest clue. But then the eyes gave the saddest confirmation.

Was this how everyone felt? No one ever talked about it being this intense, this sudden. But, then again, no one had what you had. You had never witnessed someone actually seeing their soulmate for the first time but knew how others talked about the moment with such wonder. They were joyous, so grateful. Were you feeling that, too? You couldn’t tell beyond your pounding heart and shaky hands.

“What’s wrong?” Your coworker finally asked, leaning at the table across from you. “I mean… You don’t have to talk about it but...”

“It’s my soulmate,” you forced yourself to speak.

She placed her hand on her heart, concerned. “Did… Did something happen to them?”

You shook your head. “That was him.”

“Who?” She asked everything so cautiously. It almost scared you to say anymore.

“On the television,” you whispered. “The Winter Soldier. J-James I think it said.”

You thought your coworker was going to fall over. Her eyes grew wide, jaw slacking in pure shock. You couldn’t get yourself to meet her eyes.

“Are- Are you sure?” It had taken her a moment to collect her words, making your heart sink.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I- You can’t mistake those nightmares-,”

“Nightmares?” She chuckled, hesitantly. “You mean dreams. Soulmates have dreams. They’re not supposed to be…”

You finally looked up at her, wearing the most burning expression. If looks could kill, you’d have sliced her up countless times by now. The tone of the room shifted as she found you were very serious. She got quiet again, taking in your position.

“They’re nightmares,” you assured her. “They’re a mirage of flashbacks from his...doings.”

“You just now realized this?”

You let out a weak chuckle. It sounded silly for sure. “I never saw much of him in the memories outside some distinctive features. If I had seen more I- I don’t remember it. I mean maybe I had guesses but seeing that photo and the name and the reports… It’s him.”

“My gosh, girl,” your coworker sighed, absolutely in disbelief. You weren’t doing much better yourself. “What are you going to do?”

You wanted to sob at the question. What were you going to do?

You leaned back in the chair, eyes focused on the ceiling as you tried to hold back the tears. “Maybe I need to move on.”

***

It wasn’t the craziest idea. Soulmates moved on from one another more frequently than people would like to mention. Just because you were paired didn’t mean it all worked out all the time. Stuff got fried and people changed. There could never be a perfect system but you never really personally knew of it to fail. The last time you had heard about soulmates moving past one another was decades ago. It still happened, you told yourself. And maybe your soulmate had even moved on. Maybe Bucky had too much to care about already.

But this wasn’t looking to be some easy getaway for you. It was proving impossible as you let your mind wander.

You pondered it all heavily as you sat at your computer doing some (slightly intense) internet search on your soulmate. You didn’t expect to find yourself deep in such work but you got curious, got restless at the thought of him. The news report kept flashing in your mind accompanied by bits and pieces of the nightmares.

You learned he went by Bucky and originally had his life set in the 40s. You couldn’t figure how he didn’t have a soulmate there. How his soulmate -- you -- ended up years and years away.

But that may have been too painful if he had had someone considering he was kidnapped during World War II and weaponized for decades, way before you were ever even a thought in your parents’ brain.

You continued to scroll through his military photos, finding yourself blushing at him in his uniform. He was quite the knockout, especially in the present day. Part of you wondered why you hadn’t recognized him before but you realized he was just… different. The eyes, the emotions, he actually looked full of life, real shining eyes and hope. Modern-day him was rigid, unsure, stoic. Not to mention the metal arm feature. That was who you were learning through the dreams but you certainly didn’t want it to be like that. If granted some chance by fate, you wanted all of him.

The more you searched, the more you learned, the less you felt like you could just get up and walk away. There was something in his face as you looked at the photos that made your soul ache. A connection was there, sure, and maybe you had to explore it. At the very least, he didn’t care. Then you could move on because that was possible, you reminded yourself. Rare, but possible.

As you went, you found he was the best friend of Steve Rogers. Captain America. after some thought, you decided that could hopefully be your start to this journey to him.

You just happened to see the particular super soldier nearly every other morning. The black coffee the shop served was a “real treat” he always said.

While having some place to begin, you couldn’t help but feel so weird it took you so long. Never had there ever been that connection, that feeling, when even around Steve. Never any inclination that his best friend was… supposedly the one for you.

This wondering was gonna eat you alive if you allowed it. You had to act. Something was lit inside you upon seeing him. It was as if the world told you to get it into gear. Enough wondering, enough fearing. You had to hit the ground running.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #series #angst #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

It’s Always Been You ~ 146

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,180ish

Summary: The team returns from the time heist.

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time. (gifs are not mine)

Everyone landed on the platform in the same place they had left. They were all looking around, checking over each other. Y/N immediately felt a sense of deed sadness.

“Did we get them all?” Bruce asked.

“You telling me this’ll actually work?” Rhodey added.

Clint fell to his knees. He was all wet with a dazed look in his eyes.

“No,” Y/N gasped, coming to the realization of what happened. She shook her head and stumbled backwards, Tony quickly coming to steady her. “No.”

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce carefully asked.

Clint looked down, tears rolling down his face, silently giving them the answer. Y/N began crying into Tony’s neck as he tried to comfort her. Bruce fell onto his knees and hit the floor in grief. Slowly, each person walked off the platform and heading to their rooms. To change, to mourn… Those who had a Stone, dropped it off in the lab, where Rocket said that he would watch them until everyone was ready.

Tony was practically carrying Y/N has they headed to their room. By the time they arrived, her cries were simply small sniffles and hiccups. They worked together in silence, helping get other change. There was nothing sexual about it, just incredibly intimate. Like they were both making sure the other was alright and that they were actually okay. Once done, Tony pulled Y/N in for a loving kiss, making sure it was gentle and that he was pouring all the words he couldn’t say into it.

Holding each other close, they headed out to the dock, where they already saw Clint there. The other original Avengers soon joined them, all grieving the loss of their friend. Steve was seated on a bench, tears slowly trailing down his cheeks. Tony was next to him, standing with one foot on the bench. The others were around the dock, each looking out on the water.

“Do we know if she had family?” Tony wondered.

“Tony—“ Y/N sighed.

“Yeah. Us,” Steve responded.

“What?” Thor asked, confused.

“Huh?” Tony responded.

“What are you doing?”

“I just asked a question—“

“Yeah, you're acting like she's dead. Why are we acting like she's dead? We have the Stones, right? As long as we have the Stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn't that right?” Thor growled. “So stop this shit. We're the Avengers, get it together.”

“We can’t get her back,” Clint stated.

“Wha—what?”

“It’s can’t be undone.” He glanced Y/N’s way, who was clinging to herself and not looking at the others. “It can’t.”

Thor dryly laughed. “I'm sorry. No offense, but you're a very earthly being. Okay? We're talking about space magic. And "can't" seems very definitive don't you think?”

“Yeah, look, I know that I'm way outside my pay grade here. But she still isn't here, is she?”

“No, that’s my point—“

“It can't– be undone. Or that's at least what the red floating guy had to say. Maybe you wanna go talk to him, okay? GO GRAB YOUR HAMMER, AND YOU GO FLY AND TALK TO HIM!” Clint’s anger quickly changed back to grief. “It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn Stone. She bet her life on it.”

“Y/N?” Steve called. She inhaled sharply, already knowing what was about to be asked. “Is there anything you can do?”

“The Stones are powerful,” Y/N whispered, not making a move to face anyone just yet. “And I am powerful with the Stones. But…” She slowly turned around. “But I cannot bring her back.”

In a sudden burst of anger, Bruce grabbed a bench and hurled it across the water. “She’s not coming back,” he said, looking at the others. “We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve stood, determined. “We will. We need to get those Stones in the glove.”

They all started heading inside, except Y/N. Tony and Steve both paused, sharing a look before glancing Y/N’s way. The others kept going back to the compound and they went back to Y/N.

“I should have known…” she whispered, looking down at her feet as she hugged herself. “I should have known more and been able to warn her… I should have been the one to go.”

“No!” Tony quickly said, moving to hold onto Y/N’s arms. “Nat knew what she was doing.”

“Whatever it takes,” Steve added. “She did just that.”

“When I was first told a little bit more about the Soul Stone,” Y/N started, “I was told the price to receive it… A soul for a soul… I never understood what that meant until now.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Tony said. “You can’t. And Natasha would be furious if she found out you were doing this.”

“The only thing we can do now is bring everyone back,” Steve added. “To make her sacrifice worth it.”

“Bringing everyone back won’t stop what I know is coming,” she whispered, looking up at the men with teary eyes. “I don’t know how to stop it from coming… I don’t even know how I’m supposed to end it…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“What? But you—”

“I know what I said before, and I’m taking it back now. It doesn’t matter what happens or how, as long as we have each other and stand together. A family.” Steve grabbed onto your hand. “Together.”

“I’m with the old man,” Tony added, taking your other hand and placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Together.”

~~~

The Team watched as Y/N carefully handled each Stone and placed it into the nanotech glove Tony had created. She was inside a glass room, just in case. They were mesmerized at Y/N’s ability to control the Stones. She never physically touched them, but the levitated each one into its spot. Once the last one was placed, Y/N turned and gave Tony a slight nod, signaling it was time. Carefully caring the glove, Y/N came out of the room and set the glove on a table. She glanced around, noticing that everyone had suited up.

“Alright. The glove’s ready,” Rocket stated. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

“I’ll do it,” Thor quickly offered.

“Excuse me?” Scott questioned.

“It’s okay.” He headed towards the glove, everyone rushing to stop him.

“No, no, no, whoa.” / “Stop.” / “Wait a sec.” / Hey, hey.”

“Wait, wait, Thor, just wait,” Steve said. “We haven't decided who's gonna put that on yet.”

“I'm sorry. What, we're just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” Thor questioned.

“We should at least discuss it,” Scott replied.

“No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It's my duty.”

“It’s not about that—“ Tony tried, stepping in front of his friend.

“It's not that– Stop it! Just let me!” Thor teared up. "Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right.”

“Look– It's not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you, you're in no condition.”

“What do you– What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?”

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey commented.

“Lightning.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed.

“Lightning won't help you, pal. It's gotta be me,” Bruce said. “You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.”

“How do we know you will?” Steve asked.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma. It’s like… I was made for this.”

“Y/N?” Steve turned the attention onto his sister. “You’ve been awfully quiet through all this.”

Y/N sighed, taking a look at the Stones. “This is not where I wield them…” She responded, whispering. “I think…” She turned to look at Bruce. “I think you’re right, Bruce. You were made for this.”

“Okay then.”

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony wondered.

“Let’s do it,” Bruce responded.

“You remember– everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Don't change anything from the last five years.” Y/N and Tony shared a look. They couldn’t lose Morgan.

“Got it.”

Everyone circled around Bruce and the glove, but not too close. They were all suited up, preparing for what could possibly happen. Y/N was behind Tony, beside Clint. Tony had his suit on and had a shield formed in front of them.

“FRIDAY, do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol. Will you?” Tony requested.

“Yes, boss,” FRIDAY answered, with the whole compound quickly locking down.

Bruce walked up to the gauntlet. “Everybody comes home,” he whispered. Y/N could hear his thoughts adding something, “Even Nat.”

The gauntlet’s nanobots expanded themself to fit around Bruce’s hand as he slipped the glove on. A power surge immediately overwhelmed him, causing him to grunt in pain and get down on one knee.

“Take it off! Take it off!” Thor panicked.

“No, wait!” Steve ordered, holding out a hand to Thor. “Bruce, are you okay?"

“Talk to me, Banner,” Tony added.

“I’m okay,” Bruce responded, clenching his eyes shut as he nodded. “I’m okay.” Thor gave him a double thumbs up.

“Help him,” the Stones whispered to Y/N.

“How?” She responded.

“Will us to do your bidding. Use us. Help him with the pain.”

Y/N’s hands moved ever so slightly as she concentrated on the Stones. There’s was almost an immediate difference in the amount of pain Bruce was in. The only problem now was that Y/N was feeling it. She let out a small whine of Y/N, causing Clint and Tony’s heads snap to look at her. Their eyes widened when they noticed her hands glowing.

“What is she doing?” Clint asked.

“Y/N?” Tony called, panicking. “Y/N?!”

“Stark!” Steve said. “What’s going on over there?”

“We don’t know!”

“She’s taking my pain,” Bruce said. “I have to hurrying and do this before it’s too much for her.”

Grunting, Bruce lifted up his hand and snapped his fingers. He fell back, panting, and the glove slid off his hand. Clint kicked it away.

“Bruce!” Steve exclaimed, everyone rushing to him but Y/N. She was standing, trying to catch her own breath.

“Don’t move him,” Tony ordered, noticing the burns the Stones left. He began to spray nano particles on his arm.

“Did it work?” Bruce asked.

“Worth a shot,” Steve responded.

“It’s over,” Thor comforted. “It’s okay.”

Suddenly, there was a thud. They looked in the direction to see Y/N unconscious on the ground.

“Y/N!”

Steve and Tony rushed to her side, Tony carefully cradling her. Him and Steve looked over her, trying to see if there was any visible sign of what was happening.

“Come on, honey,” Tony pled. “Don’t do this now.”

Clint, who had been watching the couple, was suddenly distracted by his phone ringing. Looking at it, there was a picture of his wife. Shakily, he picked it up and answered it.

“H-honey,” he struggled to speak from sheer happiness, “Honey.”

At the same time, Scott had walked towards the outside window, noticing the new plants and birds.

“Guys!” Scott yelled. “I think it worked!”

But before any celebration could be had, an array missiles hit the compound. Causing everyone to fly in different directions.

~~~

“What the hell am I doing here?!” Y/N exclaimed. She had woken up in the Mirror Dimension, alone. “I need to see if it worked! If we brought everyone—“

“Everyone’s back,” Dr. Strange said, speaking up from behind her.

Y/N spun around. “Tell me what’s going to happen. I know you saw every detail of it. So tell me!”

The doctor shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You know that I could just get into your head, right? Figure it all out?”

“But you won’t. And the Stones won’t allow it anyway.” He came closer. “Are you prepared for the fight ahead?”

“I am.”

“Y/N, this is serious. Are you prepared?”

She gave in. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Follow your instinct, follow the Stones.”

“I hate those damn Stones.”

“I know. But they’re the only way to end this. And you’re the only one who can.”

“Before we part… before whatever happens, happens… please, tell me this… does Tony survive?”

“Y/N, I can’t.”

“Stephen, does Tony survive? I can not let my child grow up without at least one of her parents. Please tell me that he survives this.”

Strange frowned. “Who said you wouldn’t?”

“I’m not planning on it. So I need him to.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then promise me that you’ll keep him safe. That you won’t let him stop me from doing what I have to do. Knowing him… he’ll try everything he can to keep me safe. Even if that means stepping in the way of what I have to do… So promise me, Stephen, please. Protect him as much as you can.”

“I promise.”

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katieraven · 3 years

Text

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

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lokis-army-77 · 3 years

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If you please

Chapter Seventeen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2800

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Bucky being sad

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Masterlist

Early one morning I woke up and got ready for the day. Bucky wasn’t awake yet so I walked to the kitchen table, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, then wrote him a note that said I was going out for a while and that I would be back later. After picking up some of the money we had stored in a giant jar on the floor, I headed to the door and down the stairs, out into the busy Romanian morning.

Cars and people bustled down the streets every which way. I walked a few blocks away before arriving at an old book store. I had been thinking for a while that maybe if Bucky read something that he used to love, then maybe that would help some memories resurface.

Stepping through the threshold, I was hit with the comforting smell of old books and what seemed to be a vanilla candle. In the corner, right next to the door, is the cashier, a small, hunched old woman who, every time I come in here, is sleeping. She jostles a bit at the sound of the bell when the door shuts but doesn't wake.

I continue on into the shelves of books, looking for anything Bucky might like. Even though it was a Romanian book store, there were many English selections of classic books. I scoured the shelves for a while before coming to a stop at one of his favorites, ‘The Hobbit’. I gently took it off the top shelf and fingered through the old, yellowing pages. Dust from the top of the book fell to the floor as I did so. Closing it, I started to scan for something else for me to read, this time making sure it was one of the very long ones, considering I had read the short four hundred page one about three times already. There was a small paperback copy of Victor Hugo’s ‘Les Miserables’ sitting on the second shelf from the floor. I grabbed it and sat it on top of the other book in my arms and headed for the front.

The old woman was still napping away when I placed my small stack onto the counter. I forwent ringing the service bell and just reached over to give a strong tap on her shoulder. Having been here before, I knew she wouldn’t wake up to the sound of it. She swatted my hand away and I tapped her a second time a little more harshly, she woke up that time, muttering in Romanian that she was awake. I greeted her with a soft hello before placing the coins for the books into her boney, outstretched hand. She thanked me then I was on my way back to the apartment.

I took a small detour through the open market stalls a block or two away from the apartment. I take my time looking through the small amount of fresh fruit that was offered so early in the year. I move along, not finding anything of interest. I make my way through the crowd of people to continue my original journey back home.

It was close to eleven by now and when I opened the door and stepped into the apartment, my nose was filled with the smell of something burning. Quickly I shut the door and run down the tiny hallway and into the main room. Bucky was standing over a smoking pan on the stove, while right next to it was a pot, almost boiling over.

“Buck what in the world are you doing?” I ask as I move towards him to turn the eyes off.

“I was trying to make breakfast for lunch. It was supposed to be an ‘I’m sorry I scared you and brought back bad memories’ meal since I never told you I was sorry, but I burnt the eggs and bacon.” He tells me before he leans over to the trash can and dumps the charred food in.

I moved around to stand next to him and placed my right hand on his firm metal bicep. “Thank you, I really appreciate the sentiment.” I smiled up at him then looked down at what was in the now slowly bubbling pot with chopped potatoes. “Look,” I pointed out, “the potatoes are fine.” Bucky followed my outstretched finger and gave a small nod.

“Go sit down, I'll make something with these.” He directed. I looked at him skeptically as I slowly backed away.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“Yes, sit.”

And so I did. I went directly to my bed where I had thrown the books, took up mine, and then started to read. It was hard to concentrate though since I looked up from the pages every two seconds to make sure Bucky wasn’t going to burn the whole building down again, but he seemed to be doing fine. He had ended up frying the chopped potatoes in butter with a bunch of random seasonings.

Several minutes later he had finished and was scooping the food onto two separate plates. He picked the plates up and made his way around the island and to the loveseat in front of it. Sitting down he placed his plate on the arm of the furniture and then called me over. I picked myself up off the mattress and plopped myself down beside him and took my plate from his hands.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I took the fork into my hand and started eating. Surprisingly the food was actually good. I turned my eyes to him, he was staring at me, probably waiting for my thoughts on the food. I nodded my head as I chewed as a sign that it was good. He smiled softly and proceeded to eat his.

“That was really good, Buck. Next time when you cook though, stick to one thing at a time, don’t try to cook it all at once.” I said once I had finished.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Um,” he paused a second. “Where did you go this morning?”

“Oh, I actually went to get you something that might help with your memory.” I stood up after placing the dirty plate on the counter behind me and shuffled over to the bag that held Bucky’s book. I gently took it out and held it close. Making my way back to where he was sitting, I held the book out to him. “Here you go.”

He reached out and took it from me, a small smile ghosted his lips. “The Hobbit, I love this book, thank you.”

“See you’re already remembering.”

“Yeah, I think I remember wanting you to read it and you made me read something else.” He shut his eyes tight, trying to remember. “It was Pride and Prejudice wasn’t it?”

I gave him a giant toothy grin at that. “It was,” I almost shouted. I leaned down to give him a hug, excited he remembered something that was so long ago. “We started reading them the week we got engaged.” I backed away a bit.

“Oh yeah-” He looked to his hands and then to my hand. “Do you- do you still have the ring?”

“Of course I do.” I lifted my hands to the chain that always stayed hidden beneath my shirt. There was a small delicate clank as the ring and locket tapped against each other. I brought the chain over my head and then grabbed one of Bucky’s hands, placing the necklace down gently. I watched as he brought the small treasures closer to his face. He studied them quietly.

“Why don’t you ever wear the ring around your finger?” he asked, I heard a little bit of concern come through.

“I didn’t want to lose it. I kept it hidden for a long time, then when everything happened in January I had a feeling that I should keep it on at all times. With all the fighting that took place, I thought it best to wear it around my neck so I wouldn't fall off.” I explained. I eyed him as he fiddled with the clasp, he was taking the ring off.

He rose to his feet silently before grabbing my left hand to place the ring securely where it was meant to be. “Can you wear it like this from now on?” I looked into his eyes, they were soft. I nodded in response as he stepped a little closer to me.

I could feel my heart start to quicken when he started to lean down, coming to eye level with me. I could feel his cool hand snake up to the back of my neck and pull me forward slightly. I closed my eyes, I could feel the warmth of his breath, we were so close. I leaned myself in more and before I knew it I felt his rough but soft lips graze the corner of my mouth. They were warm and just like I remembered, familiar. I moved my hands to the sides of his face to keep him from moving away. His hands came softly atop mine and pulled them away and down between, but he never let go of them. I felt him move back a tiny bit before I opened my eyes with a small huff. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him, how much I missed the feeling of him. I wanted to feel him kiss me, really kiss me.

He whispered my name softly as one of his hands came up to move a strand of my hair away from my face and then brought the hand back to cradle mine. “I want to take this slow.”

“But-” I started but he cut me off.

“Let me find myself before I come back to you,” The broken sound of his voice hit my ears so softly I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it if my hearing were normal.

“Okay, Bucky I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.” He pulled me into a tight hug at that.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

It is now mid-July and Bucky has been steadily remembering more and more. The process has gone faster than I thought it would, but that’s probably because he isn’t alone and trying to figure things out. I’ve noticed that the longer we are here in Romania, the less paranoid he is about being found, although it still eats at the back of both our minds constantly.

Bucky has started to smile more, he’s started to get closer to me, mentality and physically. Something changed after that afternoon he slipped the ring back onto my finger. Sometimes, while we are sitting at home he will slip his hand into mine and leave it there for a while, or he’ll somehow just gravitate to my side like a magnet. I never push him further than he is comfortable with, knowing he is still trying to find his missing pieces.

He works hard, exhaustingly so, to be able to remember. To be the Bucky he once was. Sometimes when he gets frustrated, I have to remind him that he will never be one hundred percent how he was in 1943, but I love him all the same, I’ll stay beside him.

And that's how we came to this precise moment. Bucky was laid out on the floor staring at the ceiling when I walked out of the bathroom from taking my nightly shower.

“What’s the matter?” I questioned as I rang my hair out with the towel. He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to face away from me. “Hey, come on, you can tell me.” I encouraged as I sat down on the edge of my mattress.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh it isn’t nothing, I can see it all over your face. Something is bothering you so tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t know. I’m just so tired. My head is hurting from all the things I’m trying to remember.” He huffed out gruffly. I gave him a sympathetic look before poking him in the side. He turned his body to the side to look at me.

“You do know it’s okay to take a break? You shouldn’t expect yourself to remember every little thing.”

“I know, it's just. There are these glimpses from the past but I can never place them. It’s frustrating.” He says as his hand comes up to softly play with my fingers near his head.

“Well, you can’t try to remember things clearly if you are exhausted. Get some rest and relax, let the memories clear themselves up instead of trying to force them.” I stilled his hand and rubbed the back of it with the one he wasn’t currently grasping. “How about I make us some tea and then we can get some rest?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay then.” I stood up and his hand slowly let go of mine.

In the kitchen, I grabbed the kettle and filled it with water, and placed it on the eye of the stove. While waiting for the water to boil I washed the dirty mugs in the sink so that way we could use them. The box of teabags was sitting off to the side of the sink, I slipped two from the box and placed them in the now clean, empty mugs. When the water was done I poured it into our cups along with a few scoops of sugar and a tiny bit of milk and then walked back over to where I was sitting earlier.

“Here you go. Be careful, it’s hot and still needs to steep for a bit.” I warned as he sat up to take the mug from my hand. I sat back down and after a minute, started to take small sips of my tea.

“Thank you. Not just for the tea, but for everything you do. I don’t know how I’d get through this if you weren't with me.” He confessed as he took a long sip.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck-” I started but he cut me off.

“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have gotten near as far as I have if it weren't for your help. You’re always so loving and patient with me. I don’t deserve it, especially with the things I’ve done.” His head hung low as he drew his knees up closer to him.

I frowned as I sat my mug on the floor and crawled my way across the floor to sit directly in front of him. Carefully I placed both my hands on his. “Nothing you did is your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I did awful things. They are the only thing I can remember vividly. Can’t you see that I'm a bad guy now?”

“Sweetheart you are not a bad guy, you are a victim.” I moved my hand to his face so I could have him look at me. “And yes, you did those things but none of that was under your control. Nothing you did with HYDRA was in your control.” He looked at me with tears welled up in his eyes, he grabbed my hand and pulled it down away from his face but he never let it go. “I want to help you get through this but I can’t do that if you push me away because you think you are a danger to me. I told you before that you could never hurt me, I’m tougher than I look.”

“I don’t doubt that,” He chuckled. “It’s just hard when at any second I could turn back into that thing. It scares me, it scares me so much that I could be the reason I lose you just after I got you back.” His voice sounded like he was trying hard to hold back tears.

I moved from in front of him to his left side. I wrapped my arms around him, making him lean into me. I squeezed him tight. “It’s okay to cry, don’t hold it back,” I whispered into his ear. I felt him shudder and then all of a sudden it was like the flood gates had been opened.

We sat there on the floor for what felt like hours. We had changed into a more comfortable position, where Bucky had his arms wrapped around my middle and he just wept into my shirt. I softly played with his long hair and scratched his scalp. It seemed to calm him, but he still cried. He cried until no more tears would come until all he could do was jolt with hiccups.

We fell asleep like that, huddled together on the hard floor, next to the couch.

Authors note: Hi everybody, I know this chapter is a little shorter than I have been writing but I started my third year at college and I have like three 15 page essays and a crap tone of homework. So please be patient with me with writing for a while.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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upcloseandchaotic · 4 years

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Girls’ Night

This idea has been bouncing in my head for a while mostly as a distraction from doing my other WIPs. It was also originally supposed to be short.... I don’t know what happened 🤷🏼‍♀️

Summary: After helping Bucky with a rough round of nightmares, you decide that you need to have a Girls’ Night with your friends.

One Shot; 2,478 words

Disclaimer: Bucky, Natasha, and Wanda are not my characters.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanova, Wanda Maximoff, Female!Reader

Relationships: Bucky x Female!Reader

In the sunlight his hair was a soft chestnut color, but now as you ran your hand through it and wrapped the silky locks between your fingers, the night seemed to darkened it to where someone could mistake it for black, almost as dark as the night sky. You hummed to yourself, imagining what his hair would look like filled with falling stars and circling planets, but then quietened down as you heard his voice start rumbling in his chest, a pained groan building in his throat.

Soon Russian words started falling sharply from his lips. His arms and legs started twitching, his brow furrowing. You quickly grabbed your phone from the side table, pressing the button to open your notes app and started writing down everything that seemed important, like names or locations. It looked as if his nightmare from a couple of hours before was coming back, but this time his dream went more in depth. You were able to pull some ideas of where this “vault” was located, names of people, random words that you think were once used to help program him. It hurt for you to watch him twisting and turning, crying out in pain, it left you feeling helpless even though you knew from experience that waking him up would just make it worse.

The longer it continued you felt a rage start simmering down in the pit of your stomach. It burned as if a coal had finally caught a flicker of a flame and grew until your hands were shaking and you were silently fighting with yourself to stay there with him and not go find the people responsible for his pain.

Once his murmurs turned into more like whimpers and his twitching started to slow, you started whispering sweet nothings into his ear and gently combing his hair back from his sweating face. Slowly, without waking up from his dream, he started to relax back into the bed and eventually you can hear light snores signalling that he has fallen back into a dreamless sleep. Before you slide back into your spot beside him you grab your phone and send a message to Wanda and Natasha. Girls’ Night soon?

Wanda was probably still asleep, seeing as it was around five in the morning, but you weren’t surprised to see three dots flashing. Natasha seemed to have an uncanny sense of when Bucky was having nightmares and always seemed to be awake.

Yes! I’ll bring the nail polish! 💅

You smiled and sent back a gif before turning your phone off and threw it back onto the nightstand. Reaching out to Bucky, you smiled as he unconsciously moved to accommodate you; his arm wrapped around your shoulders and when you tucked yourself into his right shoulder he turned, curling up around you and throwing his metal arm around your waist. You could feel the warm huffs against the top of your head and his usual scent of spice, leather and gunmetal surrounded you. With the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and the warmth of his body seeping into you you close your eyes and drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You were standing in the kitchen putting together a cheese and cracker plate when you felt two hands circling around from behind you, one warm and soft and the other cool and hard. They wandered under his shirt you were wearing and started creeping upwards slowly with gentle caresses.

Smiling softly, you put the crackers and cheese down to place your hands over his, halting his movement and . “What are you doing, Buck?”

Bucky’s chin dropped onto your shoulder and he whispered into your ear. “Do I really have to go, doll? You know I don’t care about what you all talk about. I’ll even let you and the girls paint my nails.”

You sighed and twisted around so you could stare into his aquamarine-colored eyes, which were trying to pretend to be charming but actually belied his nerves. He always required some more physical reassurance after having a bad bout of nightmares, and as much as you wanted to allow him to stay so you could comfort him you knew that this Girls’ Night was necessary and that he couldn’t be here. To ease some of his discomfort, though, you pulled him towards you and reached up to cup one cheek. He sighed and leaned into it and you watched as some of the tension in his jaw relaxed.

“Baby, I wish you could. If it was any other night it would be fine, but tonight it really has to be just us girls.” Bucky gave a dejected huff and closed his eyes, leaning a little bit more into your hand, “But I will take up your offer to paint your nails. I have a really pretty blue color that would match your eyes.”

When he opened his eyes again you could see a glint of mischievousness flash briefly and before you could blink he had a grip on your thighs and had you up in the air. You squeaked and quickly wrapped your legs around his waist. He laughed and sat you on the counter next to your half-done cheese and cracker plate. You gave him a mock glare and lightly smacked his chest.

“Don’t be like that, Doll,” Bucky crooned. He stepped forwards so that he was standing between your legs, pressed up against you. Leaning forwards, he hovered his lips so that they were a hairsbreadth apart from yours. You got a clear whiff of his favorite cologne and the mint toothpaste he used. “I was just havin’ a bit of fun. We both know how much you like it when I pick you up like the babydoll you are.”

“That’s true, but the girls are going to be here any moment and I still have a lot of stuff to finish getting ready. Also don’t you have to meet Steve and Sam in about 20 minutes anyways? You still have a 15 minute drive, Buck.”

He hummed, pulling your wrist off of his face to read the time on your watch. When he saw that he was going to run late he grumbled but backed off, allowing you to hop down from the counter but close enough that he could keep his hands on your arms in case you lost your balance.

You hurriedly finished up making the plate of appetizers while Bucky begrudgingly went and collected his wallet and keys and then you both met up at the doorway.

“Have fun with Steve and Sam, baby. Call me if you need me,” You say, leaning up to give him a chaste kiss. Before you could step back, though, he snuck a hand into your hair, keeping you close as he proceeded to deepen the kiss. After a few minutes though someone knocked loudly on the door, startling both of you into separating. When you and Bucky gathered enough braincells to answer the door, Natasha and Wanda were standing there, smirking and giggling at the dazed look on both of your faces.

“Come on, Barnes, it’s our turn with Y/N. You can have her later tonight,” Natasha joked, pushing past you and Bucky to place the wine bottles she brought with her on the living room table. Wanda snuck past too, dropping her bag onto the couch before starting to search for wine glasses in the kitchen.

Bucky chuckled, ignoring the two girls as he dropped another kiss onto your lips. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Bye, babydoll, I’m countin’ down the seconds until I come back to you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you heard a mixed chorus of fake gagging and awe-ing behind you. “Go on, Buck, I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t use all of the nail polish, ladies! I look forward to my manicure when I get home!” he shouted as he walked away, smiling brightly as you laughed. You stayed there, leaning against the doorway to watch him until he disappeared on the stairs.

“Hate to see him leave?” Wanda asked as you closed the door and stepped back into the apartment.

“But love to watch him go,” You sighed dreamily. Natasha groaned and threw a pillow at you, causing you and Wanda to break out into laughter.

“Okay, okay! Truce!” You cried, throwing your hands up.

“Fine,” Natasha conceded, “You live to see another day, Y/N… Now, what information did you find the other night?”

As Wanda opened the bottle of wine and set it to the side to let it breathe, you pulled up your notes and explained what Bucky had said during his latest nightmare as well as what you had been able to find from an initial search. Natasha stayed quiet during your explanation, responding with nothing but the occasional nod, and Wanda pulled her laptop out of her bag, starting it up and opening the files you all had compiled and sent them.

At the end of your report Natasha poured the wine into the glasses and took a quick sip. “This place sounds familiar to me, but I’m not 100% sure I have been there. I think maybe they used it as a threat in the Red Room? What were the names he mentioned again?”

When you repeated them, Wanda chimed in with “I think I’ve heard about that place, it’s in Siberia. Pietro and I were almost sent there a couple of times, they told us it was their top training facility.”

“Could you point it out on a map, Wanda?” You asked, quickly pulling up a map of Serbia on your phone.

“I think I could…here let me see.”

Wanda looked over the map and you bit your lip, twisting the wine glass between your fingers, anxious to see if you guys would have a break through.

“Here,” she said, pointing at a spot in the Balkan Mountains, “It’s closer to Serbia and it’s hidden deep inside one of the mountains.”

“I’ll try and see if I can pull some layout plans from the upload you did, Nat,” You said, reaching for Wanda’s laptop. As you did your deep diving into the files, Natasha and Wanda made a quick order for food from the Italian place around the corner.

Right after the food came in and Wanda had refilled all of the glasses, you gave a short cry of triumph and flipped the computer around to show them the layout of the Hydra base, as well as the information needed to get in. The three of you smirked while raising your glasses in a toast, celebrating that for once you were able to get all of the information needed..

The rest of the night was spent making a plan of attack and then double and triple-checking to make sure everything would go as planned.

You slipped into your apartment silently, placing your heels next to the door and padding softly down the hallway. The whole apartment was dark except for the lights of the busy New York street shining through the window. Using the little bit of light and muscle memory you managed to weave around the furniture, setting your jacket and purse gently on the living room table on your way to your room.

You could see Bucky, sprawled on his side of the bed, body facing the door as if he had tried staying up so he could make sure you got in all right. You sighed, letting your body sag against the door frame briefly even though you winced as your sore muscles ached, a reminder of what you had gotten up to tonight. Even though, originally, it was supposed to be just Wanda and Nat infiltrating the base, you had had to go in to hack some computers. It was just bad luck that those computers were guarded by some giant, beefed up Hydra goon who seemed to be immune to effects of a fucking taser. Needless to say, it was extra satisfying when he did eventually succumb to Natasha’s famous thigh chokehold.

Bucky was snoring lightly, but it seemed as if his sleep would be undisturbed tonight, almost as if his body sensed that one more nightmare was no more. You stepped forwards and cursed loudly as you tripped over his combat boots and went sprawling across the floor. As Bucky startled awake and flipped on the light, you sat there hissing and briefly wondered how satisfying it would be to just throw them in the trash right in the moment.

“Babydoll?” he asked, his voice rough and low as if he were still half asleep, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” you huffed, wincing as you climbed back up,, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, Buck.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was waiting on you anyways.” Bucky pushed himself up the bed and sat back to watch as you started to gather all of your supplies to get ready for bed. “How was your Girls’ Night? Did you get some free drinks tonight?”

“You know it,” you shot back, winking over your shoulder. You heard his breath hitch as you drew your dress up and off, revealing your black lace thong and push up bra. You turned around and before he could say something you know would lead to both of you not getting any sleep that night, you pointed a finger at him and said, “Not a word, buster.”

Bucky raised his hands in the air with an innocent expression on his face that was quickly overtaken by a charming smile, “I wasn’t goin’ to say nothin’, doll….but now that you mention it, that set does looks stunning on you.”

“Ah ah!,” You cried, wagging your finger once more, “It is 2 AM, James Buchanan Barnes, and we are both exhausted. We’re getting some sleep before anything else, ya hear?” Bucky laughed but agreed, sinking further into the bed the closer you got to finishing your nightly routine. By the time you were climbing into bed yourself his eyes his body had sunk into the bed and his eyes were slowly blinking. Once you were comfortably resting on your side facing him he tucked an arm across your waist and pressed his hand between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer to his body until you both were unable to figure out where one started and the other ended.

“I’m glad you had a fun night with the girls, babydoll,” Bucky whispered into your hair groggily.

“Thanks, baby,” You whispered, smiling as you heard the soft huffs of his breath above your head. You kissed the shoulder closest to you and sighed as you sank into the warmth of his body, the bed, and the knowledge that Bucky was now safe from one more nightmare.

tags: @babiiface95

Dividers by: @whimsicalrogers

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

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15x20: Carry On

Warning: Boris is a salty, sad fangirl right now so the first part of this recap might be more bitter, reductive venting than is necessary. Please skip ahead to enjoy Natasha’s far more nuanced and enjoyable second half of the recap.

The Road So Far: Cue Carry On Wayward Son

Then:

Salmondean Winchester, the boy with the demon blood and daddy’s blunt little instrument, finally defeats Chuck and gets a taste of true free will

Now:

*Fun domestic montage*

Sam Dean gets a dog! (Okay, fine, Miracle is super cute, and a complete stand-in for Cas --but that thought just sends me on another anger spiral.)

Dean squeezes the shit out of that dog, and I hurt for that touch-starved man.

Sam goes for a run, so like, I guess his life is the same. (thanks to Dean always protecting him and allowing him some normalcy in life) (I’m bitter, remember?)

Dean Sam makes breakfast! Dean brushes his teeth! Sam is SHIRTLESS one last time!

*Shirtless Sammy Alert*

Dean’s room is INEXPLICABLY messy! I do get what this whole montage is doing, and it’s nice, but I’m pretty sure when Becky said the fans like the domestic stuff, it was supposed to include CAS AND OTHER FAMILY. Basically, overlay the Where’s the Angel? gif all over this sequence for me.

And finally, we find the boys are still hunting. Because freedom is just a length of rope.

Dean finds a case, but first they have to stop and get pie! Yay! Dean loves pie, and women, and fast cars. Grumpy-faced Sam humors his big, dumb brother. Yay!

Dean Sam thinks about Cas and Jack. Dean brushes off the thought with a Wherps, gotta keep moving attitude, and I already WANT TO SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. Sam then pies Dean in the face, so we have that.

In suburban America, a mother starts to ready her children for bed. There’s a knock at their door and the father answers it. There’s nobody there, and as he turns around, he’s knifed in the back, his wife looking on in horror.

Skull masked killers enter the home. The mother and children run upstairs. The mother is quickly dispatched, and the kids soon follow.

Agents Singer and Kripke check out the crime scene.

They learn more about the parents: exsanguinated and throat ripped out father, tongue ripped out mother. The children are missing. The cop shows a drawing of the killers. Dean (in a wildly out of character move!) uses his photographic memory to remember a case his fucking father botched back in the day. Dean pulls out the journal (MY GOD THERE’S BEEN NO GROWTH)

For TFW Science (because Cas is the tree):

They determine they’re dealing with a roaming band of vampires.

At night, a couple of vampmimes arrive at a house. Dean beheads one right away. Sam shoots the other with dead man’s blood. Dean removes the mask to reveal a normal looking vampmime. Why the masks?? Dean wants answers, and Dean “I’m not a killer” Winchester threatens the vamp with a quick death or slow death (with a spoon). The vamp spills the kids’ whereabouts.

*Much Anticipated Barn Scene Alert*

(Psych! Don’t get your hopes up, what lies ahead is bullshit.)

The masked vamps are crawling all over the joint, but Dean and Sam Winchester can handle it! This is a milk run! They get the kids free and face the big bads.

Fight! Chop! Slice! The boys are overwhelmed. Sam gets knocked out one last time. Dean’s held down to the ground so OMG GUYS!!! JENNY IS BACK!??!?!!? I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THEY GOT HER BACK!! (This joke is so old by now and it’s only been 3 days, sigh.) I did not remember her at all (but then I’m a TFW purest and tend to not watch the early seasons ---and I NEVER HAVE TO AGAIN!) (Natasha: coughs and points at our recap list.) (Boris: shit.) Dean remembers though, and talks just long enough for Sam to wake and chop her head off. See ya, Jenny!

More fighting!

Sam takes out another vamp and Dean tussles with the last one ---and is pushed backwards right into the rebar hook in the wall. So that happened. (I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m a ROILING CESSPOOL OF ANGER AND CONFUSION AND BITTER RIGHT NOW.)

Sam kills the vamp. He’s ready to find the kids and leave. “Sam, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

Dean pulls Sam close. HE’S BEEN IMPALED! Poor little snowman. Dean makes Sam promise not to try to resurrect him. He tells Sam that he’s proud of him and that he’s always looked up to him. That he was scared to be rejected by Sam in that very first episode when he went to get him from college. “I must’ve stood outside your door for hours. Because I didn’t know what you would say. Tell me to get lost or to get dead.” JESUS SHOW JUST LET DEAN LIVE AND BE LOVED. (Boris: In the alt version where Cas is there too, he’s instead telling Cas about watching him outside the Gas ‘n Sip. why do I do this to myself?)

Sam cries, afraid to go through the world alone. Dean tells Sam to always keep fighting, tells him he loves him, and DIES. He dies clutching his chest and the whole season we think we’ve been getting heart and chest imagery as a symbol of love but instead it was just? Foreshadowing? Of getting impaled through the chest cavity and dying?

Dean dies, and Sam is wrecked, and I call up 911 to inform them that I have been ROBBED of one Dean Winchester finally getting to live his life. (This is indeed, a beautifully acted scene. I just...wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing about it.)

Sam burns Dean on a lonely pyre, with nobody else around but the dog.

For Sam Gets a Dog but at What Cost Science:

Sam wakes alone, in mourning. There’s no dialogue - only a Sad!Sam montage of remembering the people he’d lost in the bunker. (Was this script only like 5 pages?) One of Dean’s cell phones rings. It’s a sheriff who’d been referred to Dean by Donna. (DONNA DOESN’T KNOW FML) There’s a case, so Sam takes off. He shuts down the bunker and it goes dark.

We cut to Dean in Heaven. It’s beautiful - a wilderness of mountains. Dean’s greeted by Bobby sitting at the quiet Roadhouse. Bobby tells Dean that he’s free - and Heaven’s free. Jack opened Heaven and tore down the walls before he took off for places unknown. I am GLAD ABOUT THIS. It’s about time for Heaven to be a true reward, but this show took Dean TOO SOON. “It ain’t just Heaven, Dean. It’s the Heaven you deserve.” Bobby drops one last reveal: “Cas helped.”

They drink together. “it’s almost perfect,” Dean says.

“He’ll be along,” is Bobby’s quiet response. (Our hearts rise thinking about Cas.) Time’s different in Heaven, Bobby explains. (Boris: Jeremy Bearimy, baby!) “What are you gonna do now, Dean?” Dean decides to go for a drive. He gets into Baby and drives away to the tune of “Carry on my wayward son.”

Cut to a montage showing Sam raising a child with “Dean” on the coveralls. (To quote a friend of mine: That goes against basic child safety, Sam!) While Dean drives, Sam raises a son.

In Sam’s house, the portraits only show pictures of the original Winchesters: Sam, Dean, Mary, John. Me to set dressers: EXTREME SIDE EYE - way to show Sam’s “full life.” Sam kept the Impala in storage, and possibly sits in it and weeps from time to time, as one does.

Much later, Sam dies in his home of “old age disease,” as someone on Tumblr put it. “It’s okay, you can go now,” baby Dean tells Sam, mirroring Sam’s words to his brother. AAAAAND Sam out. Remember, words can kill, kids!

Dean stops on a beautiful bridge and gets out to survey the world.

Dean smiles and the camera pans out. “Hey, Sammy,” he says. The boys are wearing the same outfits as the first episode because SYMBOLISM. (Boris: Symbolism? Like there was no growth or change or...Boris will stay out of your mentions.) (Natasha: Exactly.) They hug, and I do get emotional, because I’m not the burnt and broken shell of a fan that I may appear to be.

We get a “thank you” from Jared and Jensen on the bridge, and then the camera pans away to show the crew. We send them a giant box of MASKS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. And then we set this episode aside as unfulfilling fan fiction and move on with our lives.

Am I sad to see this show end? Yes, I am! Were there things I liked about this episode? Sure! Were there things I so viscerally disliked that I’m still sleeping poorly? Absolutely. That’s love, right? We’re still raw, but we WILL BE BACK on Monday with a new recap of an old episode. See you all then!

Quote on My Wayward Son:

I don’t have a choice. This is my destiny

It’s like running into somebody from high school, you know? Somebody you don’t want to see

Stay with me, please

I’m not leaving you. I’m gonna be with you right here, every day

Cas helped

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn spoilers #spn 15x20 #carry on #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #unbelievable I can't tag Cas in the very last episode of this show #supernatural season 15

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buttonso · 4 years

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Your Face (A Harvey/Aura short)

Well this bit of domestic fluff has been burning a hole in my brain for days now, and I just had to get it out of my system.

This takes place some time after the events being chronicled in Breathe With Me, but reading it is not in the least bit necessary. It’s Harvey, Aura’s the farmer, you know the drill. 1,074 words, appropriate for any age.

“Darling?”

Aura paused as she passed by the open bathroom door, an overflowing laundry basket in her arms. “What is it, honey?” She asked in a more than half-distracted tone as her eyes roamed the bathroom, probably looking for something to add to the load. “Hand me that,” She added, pointing with her chin to the damp washcloth that was dangling over the edge of the tub.

“I was wondering… do you think I should shave off my mustache?” Harvey asked as grabbed the cloth and handed it to her.

For a split second, she looked shocked and stared at him as if he’d just asked her if she thought he should get a neck tattoo. “…Why would you want to do that??” She exclaimed.

“Well… I originally grew it because I had a bit of a baby-face in my twenties… I wanted to look older and more mature, like a real doctor. Now I wonder if I look too old…” He trailed off, realizing that he must seem very vain and silly right this moment. “…Plus, Alice keeps grabbing it and it hurts,” He added, as a bit of an afterthought.

Aura’s expression softened, the faintly annoyed confusion giving way to the affection she usually regarded him with. “I mean... it’s your face, baby, you do what you want with it. But I like you the way you are.”

“I know, but…” Harvey trailed off as she set the laundry basket down on the floor.

“But what?” She asked, stepping over the basket and across the bathroom threshold. The tiny room suddenly seemed quite crowded with her so close. “You’re gonna look a little bit older every year. So will I.”

“Some of us age more gracefully than others,” He said, reaching out to run his fingers over her dark hair, still damp from the shower.

“The grays are there, if you look hard enough, believe me. Look, I need to get this load in and get over to the barn before the baby wakes up, so…” She slowly ran her fingers up his arm. “I will just say this.” Her fingers brushed across his cheek. “It’s your face, and I love every part of it. I love your beautiful eyes. I love the way you furrow your brow when you’re worried or annoyed. I love the little crinkles at the corners of your eyes and your mouth when you smile…”

“Crinkles?” Harvey echoed with dismay, trying to look at the mirror again but Aura caught his chin in a firm grip, forcing him to look at her.

“Speaking of your smile, I love that best of all. And I love your mustache and the way it tickles me when you kiss me…” She leaned forward and gave him a little peck on the lips. “So… while I would much prefer you kept it, it’s your face, and I will love it just as much whether you’re shaved clean or have a big wooly beard. And I always will.” She kissed him again, this time with a little more force. “Did that help?”

“Well… yes, and no,” He said, a bit breathlessly as she stepped out of the bathroom and picked up the laundry basket. The trouble with kissing Aura was that he seldom wanted to stop. Even after almost two years of marriage and a baby, it was still exciting.

“Well, if you do shave it and don’t like it, it’ll grow back… you’ll just look kinda goofy for awhile when you’re in that in-between stage,” She pointed out as an afterthought.

“True, but I-” Harvey began and stopped as the now all-too-familiar wailing from the nursery announced their daughter’s wakefulness. “I can get her,” He said as Aura looked slightly panicked for a moment.

“Thank you, if I don’t get this load in, I’m gonna be out in the fields naked tomorrow,” She sighed and hurried on down the hall to the laundry area at the back of the house. Harvey watched her go, then quickly made his way upstairs to the nursery.

Alice stood in the crib, chubby fists gripping the bars, but her impatient screams stopped abruptly as Harvey entered the room.

“Well, hello, young lady,” He said as she waved her arms anxiously, clearly wanting to be picked up. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Da!” She exclaimed happily, and, as it did pretty much every time she said it, Harvey’s heart melted. She wasn’t saying much else yet, but Harvey knew he’d never get tired of this. Scooping her into his arms, he kissed her little forehead and chubby cheeks until she was squealing with laughter. She was a miraculously happy baby, even after a nap, even with a dirty diaper. His nose wrinkled a bit, but he kissed her again anyway.

“Mommy said something very sweet to me just now,” He said conversationally as he carried her over to the changing table, making quick work of one of the less savory aspects of parenthood. “…That she would always love my face, no matter what I did to change it. I can only hope someday… in the far, far distant future, that is… that you have someone who makes you as happy as you and she have made me.” Clean and redressed, he scooped her up once more, brushing red-brown curls back from her face. He loved her hair- it was redder than his own, and the curls were like his mother’s hair had been. Her baby blue eyes were turning a little grayer every day, and he had little doubt they would end up like Aura’s. “I love your face, too, you know,” He told her. “I love your little forehead… and your round cheeks… your chin… your button nose… your perfect little ears…” He kissed each part as he named them off until she was laughing again- though he was not quite quick enough to dodge the little hand that darted out to grab at his mustache. She yanked and he winced, eyes watering her laughter redoubled.

“I suppose… I could wait until you’re a little older to shave it,” He remarked as he carried her downstairs. “…Wouldn’t want to frighten you by changing my face…then again, you do seem determined to just yank it off…”

“Da,” The baby answered happily, making another grab for his face. He made no effort to avoid the grasp. “I guess both the women in my life like the mustache,” He sighed, but happily.

#stardew valley fanfic #my fic #stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #farmer aura #breathe with me #I am sure someone has done this before but it would not get out of my head

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starbuckie · 4 years

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All You Knead is Love Chapter Four: A Bit Untraditional

Challenge: The CBC 1k Writing Challenge by @captainscanadian

Prompt: Bakery AU

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Warnings: Loads and loads of fluff, angst, mentions of PTSD and violence, pining, language as always, and slow burn

*TW: PANIC ATTACK*

Description: After being cut off by her family, Y/N L/N started up her own business. With her business finally rising to the top after three years, her family invites her back on two conditions: that she finds a man and gets married. Once she accomplishes that, then she’ll be able to access her family’s fortune again, which could help her business immensely. While that didn’t sound horrible to her, Y/N had never let herself have the time to meet other people, and has no time now. Running on a deadline for the company, she picks the closest person she can find: which happens to be the sweet, shy, yet hot baker who occasionally caters at her galas.

Words: 2,064 words

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been a solid two months, but I am back and hopefully kicking it with this series. I actually decided to rewrite the ending of the story from what I originally had planned, so I’m very very excited to write it. The holidays are coming up which has me excited, and if you haven’t already sen in a request for the Twelve Days of Fluffmas, you most definitely should. Again, this is for @captainscanadian‘s writing challenge(which you should go join do it do it do it) and hope you enjoy :))

Thursday approached menacingly and rapidly. In the few days they had to prepare, Y/N had managed to move all of her belongings from her pretty empty apartment on the Lower West Side, and into the house that they had bought. She couldn’t be any more grateful for her real estate agent for being so snappy with the process of buying the house. The apartment she left behind had barely been decorated, so the process wasn’t too difficult for her to move in. Bucky on the other hand had started to bring boxes over, at Y/N’s slight insistence that her parents may ask to come over, but his house held so many memories that he knew it would take much longer. It was difficult for him to leave the home he had known for so long, full of cherished memories and the only stable home he had after Iraq. But he was ready to let it go.

The evening of the big engagement dinner Y/N and Bucky were frantic, rushing around the house after work to shower and look presentable, making sure they could pull the stunt off. Bucky’s nerves had been on edge all day, slipping out of the house at two am, hours earlier than normal to start his day. As he talked to customers and served coffee, the words he’d rehearsed with Y/N echoed in his brain, taking over every nook and cranny of his thoughts that he messed up several orders. This time he wouldn’t get nervous. It took him long months to feel the slightest bit comfortable in his own skin and around his neighbors, so if he ran his own bakery he could propose, right?

“So,” Mrs. L/N tried to conceal her disgusted face, “James, what kind of, er, delicacies do you make?”

So the conversation was less than great, even Bucky could admit that. Although Y/n had warned him ahead of time that her parents were not the most amazing conversationalists, he expected something better than this awkward discussion about his job. He loved his job. It brought back cinnamon flavored memories of baking at Christmas with his ma, his dad and younger sister yelling over Scrabble in the living room. Barnes Brooklyn Bakery was his pride and joy, yet he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious when both of Y/N’s parents looked down on it.

“I make lots of things. It requires an earlier or later start time based off of what I’m making, because I want everything to be fresh. But my ma’s croissants are a big seller, and I know that Y/N loves my cinnamon rolls.” He sent her a soft smile, one that the woman in question couldn’t help but return.

“They’re amazing, mom, you have to try them. I swear those hands are absolutely magic and anything that’s made from them is as well.” She intertwined her pinky with Bucky’s on the table, admiring the way the candlelight illuminated the slope of his nose and the hollow of his cheekbones. God, this man has no right being this beautiful. “Bucky’s a hard worker and it shows.”

Y/N’s praise breezed through Bucky like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly his head was clear again, cheeks flushing. “Thanks, doll.”

“And what about your pay, James? How much do you make annually? I have to make sure you’ll be able to support both you and Y/N. After all, her pay from her… makeup brand and her funds can’t be enough.” Fury raged through Y/N, Bucky could probably see it in her eyes as she opened her mouth, prepared to make her argument.

“I make well enough at Orion, dad, but that’s not the point.” Meeting Bucky’s stare from her peripheral vision, she almost panicked. The reason they were sitting there in the first place was so Bucky could get more money for his bakery. “Must you really bring up business at the table? I’m simply trying to have a nice dinner with my boyfriend and my parents, is it really that difficult to ignore money matters for once?”

Her parents eyed each other, as if they were speaking in their own silent, separate language and reluctantly quieted down. The rest of dinner was... tense, to say the very least, stiff questions about childhood and answers being reciprocated as well. Sitting in the presence of her parents, their food tasted bland, but that could’ve been from the anxiety of waiting for the proposal. They’d decided that Bucky was to pop the question while they ate dessert, just a simple small speech and a few tears.

Bucky’s eyes kept trailing back to Y/N as they shared a matcha tiramisu, repeating the words “will you marry me” a million differents ways in his head. The small restaurant he felt comfortable with suddenly felt too small, Bucky not knowing when the proper time to get down on one knee. They hadn’t discussed this. Y/N had just said “whenever you feel is right”, but when was right? The whole idea just felt so wrong to him. Marriage was supposed to be loving, a holy union and commitment for the rest of their lives. He and Y/n didn’t love each other. The whole sham of being husband and wife, for money suddenly felt so sickening to him. The room was closing in on him and all he wanted to do was bolt out and never turn back. He was going back out, he was going to, he felt it, and-

“Marry me, Y/N.” Dead silence. Eyes from all the customers sitting were baring through the couple, seeing his innermost secrets and every one of them felt like a beam of light, boring straight through his soul. Bucky hadn’t even realized how he had practically yelled it at her until the restaurant had gone quiet and he was absolutely mortified. Y/N’s eyes were wide in shock, as this was not how she imagined it going. Yet, the show had to go on.

He instinctively dropped onto one knee, eyes trained at the ground because he was scared of what he would see in her eyes. Short puffs of breath left his mouth and he all of Manhattan could hear his heart pounding. “When we met, I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were beautiful, hell, y-you were gorgeous that day you walked into the bakery, but every time you came in after I got to know the beautiful woman that wasn’t just on the outside, but on the inside too.” His eyes started tearing up, from both his kind of true confession and the pressure that was being put on him. “I-I promise to love you with all my heart. You’re my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate, and I want to be walking by my side for the rest of our lives, doll. I want to be yours forever. What do you say?”

Bucky lifted his gaze up to meet hers, hands covering her mouth as a soft sigh left her lips. Y/N couldn’t believe the beautiful sight. Shaking hands held a small cut diamond nestled in between two simple silver bands. Bucky’s hair was fluffy, newly so from his haircut the other day, clean shaven jaw showcasing the highlights of his cheekbones, and his eyes. She could go on forever about those pretty, blue eyes of his, but in the two years of knowing him, they had never been as pretty as they were in that moment, pretty blue eyes peering up at her.

Here he was, the man that she considered one of her closest friends in the city, literally giving his solitary life up to spend it with her. She wasn’t in love with him, not now at least, but those lingering feelings of hers tried to once again force their way back into her heart.

And this time, at the worst time possible, she let them.

With a small but giddy grin, she nodded and placed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you.”

He let out a long sigh at her approval, but the applause and cheers directed at him continued to make his heart race. Bucky slipped the ring onto her finger clumsily, his breath starting to become more labored as the cheers of “kiss” got louder. Y/N noticed his harsh breathing, and as she pulled him into an enveloping embrace she could feel the rapid beating of his heart the thin dress shirt he wore. “Can we go, Y/N?”

His whispered voice quivered, as if he were to break at any moment. “Of course, Bucky, I’ll go say goodbye and you can start heading to the car.” Grip on her waist tightened as she heard him grind his teeth.

“Please stay with me.”

Of course I’ll stay with you. “Always.” The cheers had not stopped, their voices still ringing strong throughout the restaurant. With no hesitation, Y/N planted a kiss on his cheek, hopefully ridding themselves of the large crowd they had garnered. Her parents looked confused, both of their eyebrows raised at the couple who still had yet to do anything besides hug at their engagement. “Mom, dad, Bucky and I are gonna go home to… celebrate by ourselves.”

Both of them heated up. “Just leave, we’ll take care of the bill. Your father will send you information for the fund over the weekend.” Mrs. L/N eyed both of them skeptically before saying, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

As soon as they got outside Bucky’s knees buckled, Y/N rubbing his back to try and console his breathing. His mind had grown hazy with wild thoughts, the crowd, the proposal, Y/N’s fucking perfume, it was all too much.

It was crawling underneath a truck in the boiling sun, Sam screaming for him, the first blossom of pain and staring down at his left arm, bloodied and detached from his body. It was screaming at his little sister to leave when she brought him groceries, ripping up Steve’s letters from Iraq. It was hours upon hours sitting in medical beds, sitting on couches, staring at the ceiling while doctors attempted to get him to open up. It was panicking at the bakery when someone eyed his prosthetic for too long and women leaving dates with him at the diner on 5th street after he failed to tell them all the gory details about how he lost his arm when they persistently asked. It was every moment he had looked at Y/N, all smiles and kind eyes, and wishing for once that he could not be a fucking coward and ask her out.

“I’m sorry.” The woman whispered. She now kneeled next to him, her right arm tracing shapes on his back, the light scrape of her nails bringing him to somewhat of a peace.

“I don’t need your pity, Y/N.” The second it left his lips he regretted it, waiting for her to leave him alone. They all did eventually. But Y/N sat there, patiently, with a small tilt to her red-painted lips.

“I’m not pitying you, Bucky. You’re one of the strongest and bravest people I know, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I just can’t believe I relapsed.” He let out a humorless laugh, his chin coming to rest in his palm. “I thought I was doing well, I always feel okay at the bakery, but I guess that the restaurant was too much. Haven’t been to one in at least a year.”

“It’s completely okay to have panic attacks and to relapse, okay, Bucky? Don’t beat yourself up about it, honey.” Kicking her high heels off, she brought herself down to his level, both of them sitting on the sidewalk as people passed them by. Though they were in New York, the city that never sleeps, she strangely felt calm. People didn’t even turn their heads at the two well-dressed people sitting on the ground. “I would’ve proposed to you, you know.”

“You propose to me? That’ isn't very traditional,” Bucky said with a breathy chuckle.

“To be fair, is any of this?” His grin was starting to grow back, and he squeezed her hand and looked out into the crowded street of the night.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @adorkably @marvelnaturalock

AKYIL TAGLIST

@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @captainscanadian @93generation @drunkbucky @thebadassbitchqueen @asonofpeter @cosmicbreathe @adorkably @awesomeannanumber1 @blubberingmess @every-marveler-ever @supraveng @delicatecapnerd @bitchwhytho @peace-love-hobbitness @learisa @marvelnaturalock

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

Text

sunbeams

a concept: george weasley is desperately in love with the girl he met 100 days ago. as such he brings her back to the cottage where she had shyly admitted that she’d imagined them spending their lives together. that morning he was going to try and make that happen.

a/n: this is a companion piece, to @ickle-ronniekins amazing imagine light of the moon. Erica is such a sweetheart she gave me permission to write this. please go read the original, it’s wonderful. this is also lightly based on my own parent’s engagement haha!

taglist: @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester

George stared at you, constantly surprised. A hundred days had gone by in the wink of time, and returning to the spot where you’d spent your one month anniversary had seemed so natural that he hadn’t thought about it for a moment.

The wildflowers brushed against the hem of your dress, leaving yellow smudges as you sang softly under your breath as you walked closer to the water. You seemed heartbreakingly beautiful. His hands trembled as he followed you, the same way a bird flew north in the summer. How the tides chased the moon. You were gravity. He couldn’t help but continue to fall into you over and over again.

Quietly you kicked off your shoes and sat down on the pond’s edge, feet in the cold water. You giggled as the minnows rushed around your toes. He watched you turn around, the smile that had absolutely thrown every plan he’d ever had into a wreck. The last time he’d been here, he’d seen his future on the horizon. Now it seemed as if he was standing right on the precipice, ready to step past where the land ended and the sky began.

“Georgie! Come sit with me.”

How could he say no? He’d never been able to say no to you before. You always asked for the littlest things. Like kisses. Like coffee. Like tea. Pouted when he tried to spoil you.

George was fairly certain he was going to choke on his own heart as he sat down on you at the edge, taking off his socks and shoes to follow your suit.

“Thank you for taking me here again.” Your head rested on his shoulder, a blush rose to your cheeks. “We talked about spending our lives here last time.”

The urge to smile was so strong that George’s mouth hurt. “We did, didn’t we princess?”

There was a soft hum from you as you flexed your toes under the water. The sun was so warm against your back you felt as if you could curl up and fall asleep. “And you don’t think I’m silly about it?” There was a single thread of self doubt in your voice that George desperately wished to stamp out that moment.

Sweet girl. Shy girl. Nervous girl.

“You’re not silly.”

He wondered if you would pout when he told you he’d bought the cottage. You’d exclaimed so much when he’d bought you a necklace a few weeks prior. It was too expensive. You didn’t need to be spoiled!

A sparrow darted across his vision.

“I’ve known you were my love when we first met, you know.” Could you hear the nerves in his voice? George wasn’t sure. He grinned as you curled into him. “And even though we’ve only been together for a bit, I just kept realizing more and more how much I adore you.”

Your hand covered your bright grin, and you giggled into it. “I love you too, Georgie. You’re my soulmate.”

Gently, George removed your hand from your face, he wanted to see your expressions for this moment. He wanted to study them. This was the only time it would happen, after all.

“I’ve been thinking about spending our lives together since our second date, you know. Couldn’t help it. You made me fall in love with you, somehow.” George’s eyes stung, was he about to cry? He hoped not. Though the idea of you kissing away his tears like you tended to was always nice. “The second I saw you, even. Knew I was supposed to be yours. I want that to start today. I want us spending our lives together to start today.”

Your lips brushed against his jaw, and he could feel you smiling against him. You knew didn’t you? He was certain you knew. Fred had said you would figure it out before you got anywhere close to the cottage. That he was too shaky and nervous to hide anything at all. “You’re so sweet Georgie.”

The nerves went away just a little bit, enough to look you in the eyes and see that you thought this was just lovely words. He’d learned enough about you to realize why. You were always so caught up in the moment, in every passing second you took in everything around you.

There was surprise on your face when he started giggling, as he wiped away a tear.

It seemed he’d begun to cry anyways, despite his intentions.

Your hands reached out for him, to cup his cheeks and wipe away any tears. To kiss everything better. More confusion as he pulled away further and shifted to one knee. A little distressed he’d say later, that you were moving father away from him.

It seemed you’d missed the cue of being on one knee.

“Lovey?” your voice was soft, “What’s wrong Lovey? Why are you crying?”

George reached into his pocket and pulled out a little ring, that glittered when the sun beams hit it. “Crying because I’m happy, Y/N. Because I’m happy and I’m nervous and I’m in love. I want to marry you, and I want our lives to start today in our new home.”

There were several dreadful moments where George’s logic failed him in your confused silence. Would you say no? Was it too soon?

And then your smile bloomed on your face, more beautiful than any of the flowers around you. “You wanna get married?”

George no longer was able to produce words. Mutely, he nodded.

“I want to get married to you too. I love you Georgie.”

Ah, why were you crying? Why were you crying and smiling?

George realized, as someone who stayed up too late and realized the sun had risen, that he had begun crying in earnest. You’d begun to do the same. Giggling through your tears.

His voice shook, whether from nerves or excitement, he would never no. “I’d like a yes or no, Y/N. Kind of one of those important things.” A half joke, his mind felt too numb to make anything better than that.

But you’d still laughed and reached out to grab his lapel, to bring him close and press as burning kiss to his lips.

If George dropped dead, he would have died happy.

“Yes.” you were giggling and speaking against him, trying to wipe away his and your own tears. “Yes! Yes silly, of course. Silly George, of course.”

For a few moments George lost himself, so blindingly happy he wouldn’t remember exactly how he pulled you into his lap until he looked up and saw you grinning down at him. “We’re going to be married.” You were kissing away his tears.

So happy he hurt, George slipped the ring on your finger. You were so warm from where the sun had kissed your skin.

Hours or minutes seemed to float by silently, the only sounds being those of giggles and kisses. It wasn’t until something seemed to strike you, as you looked up at the cottage only a little whiles away. “Georgie?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean by new home?”

He laughed against your neck.

This was probably when you would start pouting. He couldn’t wait.

#my writing #george x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley headcanon #george weasley #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #ickle-ronniekins

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

poison & wine- part 33

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1829

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: I believe the gif should be enough of what this part is all about. Thanks for reading everyone! I know we’re in dark times now but it will get resolved! Keep an eye out for a bonus part on Saturday!!!

poison & wine masterlist

You hope your entrance isn’t noticed by everyone in the compound but the Bifrost is anything but subtle. You didn’t have the mind to explain to everyone why you were in a wedding-like gown and had appeared without a royal prince by your side. You find yourself in luck as you manage to sprint into the nearby visitor’s lodge without being found.

“Welcome back Miss Y/N.”

“FRIDAY,” you greet hastily as you step into your room. “Where is everyone?”

“They’ve been called to a mission. Would you like me to send a message to them?”

“No!” you shout as you try to take your dress off. “No, I uh… I don’t want to bother them.”

You continue to struggle with the dress and let out a muffled scream as you notice the row of buttons that line down your back.

“Goddammit,” you cry out. “This stupid dress!”

You continue to attempt to rip the dress of your back but the gown doesn’t allow for its destruction. The tears are burning in your eyes and you knew there was no point in trying to stop them. You had every intention of making a swift escape but nothing was going your way. It wouldn’t be long until Loki came chasing after you if he cared enough to do so.

“Do you wish for me to call you some assistance Miss Y/N?”

“No! No, please,” you manage to stammer out as you wipe your tears away. “I wish to keep my return secret.”

“I believe your arrival has been noticed.”

“By who?” you ask confused. “I thought everyone was gone.”

“Not everyone…”

Your panic shifts at the sound of his voice but you turn around to meet him.

“Bucky...”

His frame took up most of your doorway but as imposing as he was, he held himself modestly. You took him all in noting the familiarities and the differences easily, but with everything that had changed, the long hair and dark scruff, you could still see the soldier you once had the pleasure of knowing.

Bucky Barnes was like a glass of aged whiskey. With the time passed, he had become a bit rough, but still held a hint of his original sweetness.

You can’t ignore the warmth that spreads through your chest at seeing him again. The influx of memories of him was hard to ignore.

You embrace him instantly realizing how much bigger he’s gotten since his years in the war.

“Y/N,” he breathes out as he hugs you back. A laugh vibrates through his chest and you can’t help but join him in it. “You look… exactly the same.”

“So you remember me?” you ask as you pull away from him.

“It’s hard to forget someone like you, doll,” Bucky answers slipping into his 40’s slang easily. “It was hard to believe that you were still alive but Steve…”

“Of course,” you mutter with a shake of your head. “Steve was supposed to keep his mouth shut about me but that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“He really can’t,” Bucky agrees. “But it was good to know. We both lost a lot and some things can’t be so easily replaced..”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” you answer knowing how time could take and take without ever giving back. “It’s good to have you back, Buck.”

“It’s good to be back,” he states before frowning. “Except it seems I’ve missed something.”

He takes in the gown you’re wearing and you’re mortified at being caught in it.

“I gotta be honest, doll, I didn’t remember you as a runaway bride.”

You try to laugh at his joke but all the reminders of Asgard come crashing back. The pain, the heartbreak, the utter humiliation. Your eyes begin to sting again and you’re embarrassed once more to find yourself on the verge of tears.

“I’ve clearly said the wrong thing,” Bucky stammers out in concern. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as your throat continues to tighten. “It’s just… a lot has happened and I haven’t had the chance to process it all.”

“Does the dress have something to do with it?”

You just nod unable to speak anymore.

“Ok, ok, doll,” he whispers trying to calm you. “Will taking it off help you?”

You nod once more and turn around allowing Bucky to undo the row of buttons that had caged you into a suffocating reminder of a certain dark prince.

“What happened?” he asks.

You knew this wasn’t wise. You couldn’t open up your heart to a man you had a deep history with, but your heart was broken and you were tired of carrying the weight of what happened with you for much longer.

“I went to Asgard with Loki. I wanted to find my father,” you manage to explain. The dress loosens and you’re quick to hold the material from falling even lower. Being a gentleman, Bucky is quick to avert his stare allowing you to pull on some of the spare clothes you had left behind. “You can turn around. I’m done changing.”

Bucky looks up once more and takes notice of your red, swollen eyes. You’re quick to look away focusing instead of pulling out your second suitcase from the closet and packing it up.

“Ok, and what did you find?” Bucky asks as he watches you throw your clothes into the bag. “Why are you running away from it?”

You stop briefly trying to formulate a response.

“I uh… My father ended up dying,” you answer. “Quite some time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky frowns. “But why are you packing your bag? Why are you leaving? You just got back… and you came back alone. If you went with Loki, why didn’t he come back with you?”

“Bucky, I-,” you whisper trying to wrap around the influx of questions he’s asking. “I can’t tell you. I really don’t want to.”

It seems your hesitance to offer an explanation allows Bucky to find the answer on his own.

“This has something to do with Loki.”

You look up at him desperate for him to leave things be, but Bucky is too protective and you can see him jumping to conclusions.

“He didn’t do anything,” you explain as you wipe the stray tears that had managed to escape. “I… I spent a week with him and we got close. Too close. And he… he did so much for me. He sacrificed himself over and over again just to keep me safe… just to help me find who my father was. Loki… he’s completely misunderstood and I somehow managed to catch a rare glimpse of the real him. A glimpse of him being utterly good and I fell in love with it. I fell in love with him.”

“Then what went wrong?”

“He doesn’t feel the same way,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I thought… I thought maybe he did, but he rejected me so harshly in front of the entire Asgardian population and all because of that stupid apple!”

You knew there were details missing in your recounting but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them all. Your heart was already broken and there was no point in breaking it some more.

It doesn’t seem to matter as Bucky pulls you into another embrace allowing you the comfort you needed.

“I can’t stay here, Bucky,” you sigh tiredly. “Loki is bound to come back and I can’t face him. Not with all that happened in Asgard. I’ve made a mess of things because I couldn’t discern friendship from love.”

“How are you so sure that he doesn’t love back?” Bucky asks you.

“He told me to leave so I did. In fact, he yelled at me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Bucky whispers glancing down at you. A hint of a smile was on his lips. “It’s hard not to fall in love with you, Y/N. I would know.”

You can’t breathe. Not with the way he was looking at you. His eyes spoke more than words ever could and it took your breath away.

“I’m flattered, Bucky, but…”

“...our time has passed,” Bucky finishes for you. “I know.”

“You and I have changed since the last time we saw each other.”

“Yes, we have.”

Bucky lets you from his hold smiling sadly at you.

“You should go.”

“Bucky…” you whisper in surprise.

“If Loki knows what’s right for him, he’ll be coming to find you,” Bucky explains as he zips up your bag. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

“I don’t know what I want,” you answer honestly.

“You love him which means you want him,” Bucky states. “You can stay and wait for him. Demand the answers you rightfully deserve or you can run away. Ignore all that’s happened up there. Heal from your broken heart on your own.”

You think about it briefly weighing the pros and cons of both options. All your emotions were still pressing in your chest, but the pain was winning overall. Hope and love were long gone.

“What is it that you want, Y/N?”

The answer suddenly comes clear to you.

“I’m really tired, Buck,” you breathe out. “I just want to go home.”

Bucky nods recognizing your need to return to an old comfort that you were lucky to still have.

“Then go,” he tells you.

“But you just came back…”

“I’m not leaving anytime soon,” Bucky assures you. “Don’t worry about me. We’ll catch up when you decide to return.”

Bucky was allowing you a clean break and you would be dumb not to take it. You pick up your bag and offer him one last glance.

“Thank you for this, Bucky.”

“No need to thank me, doll,” he answers with a small smile. “Running away... Might not be the best coping mechanism but the distance can allow some much-needed clarity and that I can understand.”

“Tell everyone I’m sorry,” you hesitate to continue but find yourself doing so. “Tell Loki… Tell him…”

You don’t know what message to leave for him and yet Bucky seems to connect the dots before you can.

“I’ll tell him,” Bucky nods. “I’ll tell him you had to save yourself.”

There’s nothing holding you back anymore so you wish Bucky goodbye and take your leave.

Bucky watches you go. Keeping an eye on you as you get into your car and speed off. Your car disappears past the secured gates and Bucky knows it won’t be long for Stark’s A.I. to notify its maker that you had come and gone without his knowing.

With a sigh, Bucky turns back to the compound before another flashing of lights shooting into the lawn captures his attention. A man regaled in golden armor appears and Bucky doesn’t need an introduction to know that this was the anticipated and feared Loki.

“If you’re looking for Y/N, she’s long gone.”

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years

Text

TFWB - Chap 26 Family Gathering

Summary: The family gathers together for a long overdue celebration. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Rachel Sanderson (OFC), Molli Sanderson (OFC), Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader / Jared x Rachel (OFC) / Misha x Molli (OFC) Warnings: Fluff/AU Word Count: 1010 Squared Filled: Free Space A/N #1: This is for @spnfluffbingo card

Check out: The Family We Built Masterlist

The music was thumping throughout the old barn. Laughter could be heard echoing through the cool night air. Drinks were being passed around along with slices of cake. (Y/N) was sitting on the back of an old Chevy pick up watching all the members of her family having a wonderful time.

“You know the Bride is supposed to be in there dancing and drink the night away.” Rachel hopped up on the truck next to her with a bottle of champagne.

“Move over sis, I’m joining the bridal party.”

Molli sat next to Rachel as the three of them passed the bottle between them. They watched the guests dancing and the kids starting to fall asleep at various tables.

“I never thought this day would finally come. It took you two so damn long to get together then two years to get married. Talk about your slow burn.” Rachel chuckled, taking a drink then passing it to Molli.

She took a drink, “I lost five bucks to Misha saying we would be married before them.”

“Alright, alright. I’m married now and if you remember we had to postpone our original wedding date because Jensen released another book. Then another Padababy came along.”

Rachel stole the bottle from her, “Once again, Jared’s little soldiers are just too strong for any kind of resistance.”

“Ugh!” (Y/N) and Molli groaned.

“Fellas, I do believe our ladies have decided to have their own little party without us.” Jared climbed over the side of the truck sitting behind Rachel.

Misha stood between Molli’s legs while Jensen helped (Y/N) off the truck, “Oh yeah. Rachel was just telling us all about Jared’s little soldiers breaking down her defenses.”

“(Y/N)!” Rachel yelled as Jensen led her away from the group laughing hysterically.

“Where are we going handsome?”

He was leading her out past their barn into the middle of their empty land. They had decided to move out from Austin thirty minutes to the west in Dripping Springs. Jensen had a house built for them that included having a barn with the intent of one day having some animals on their land.

He wrapped his arms around her waist resting his chin on her shoulder, “Remember, the first conversation we ever had on this property?”

***

“What do you think?” He asked as they stood in the middle of hundred acres of land.

“I think it’s perfect. The house could be over there and a path to a barn. One day we could have horses and goats.” She wrapped her arms around his waist as they looked out over the land.

Jensen pointed to a large tree, “I could build a treehouse there for when we have kids.”

She sucked in a breath stepping away from him. It was a conversation she had been trying to build up the courage to talk to him about and never finding the right time. Seemed life created a moment pushing her to tell him the only secret she ever kept from him.

“Jensen, about that…” she started as he started to walk towards the tree.

He chuckled, “Pretty girl, we don’t have to have the kid conversation yet. Let’s get through the house build and the wedding whenever they may happen. We can just keep on practicing to baby making steps.”

“There’s something I need to tell you that… that could make you change your mind about the whole house and marriage thing.”

He stopped turning towards her, “There is nothing you could say that would make me change my mind. I want to spend the rest of my life with you no matter what.”

“I can’t have children.” Saying the words out loud held such a finality for her.

“W-What?”

The tears she was trying to hold back fell down her cheeks, “My body doesn’t produce the eggs to have children. If… if you marry me then we will never have our own children.”

Looking up, her heart broke seeing the disappointment in his eyes. She should have told him way before now but she did not want to admit she was broken, damaged goods.

“You mean when I marry you.” Jensen reached out taking her hand and pulling her to him, “Where that news is shocking and I’m going to need some time to process that. There is no question as to if I’m going to marry you. It’s only a question of when I’m going to marry you.”

(Y/N) could not believe what she was hearing, “You’re really okay with never having your own biological children?”

“Will you be in my life?” She nodded, “Then yes, I am okay with not having my own kids.”

A sob escaped her lips as she hugged him tightly, “You’re truly an amazing man.”

***

“Yes, I do. Why?” She turned in his arms clasping her hand behind his neck.

“During our honeymoon in Europe, I would like to begin the process of adopting a child from the Ukraine. I’ve already started the process here but we had to be married before going over there.”

(Y/N) stood there stunned as Jensen nervously chewed on his bottom lip, “Say something.”

“Just when I think you can’t possibly surprise me with something, you do. Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

Jensen picked her up and twirled her around, “Oh my god, I was terrified to ask you about it. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s go tell the rest of our family.”

They walked back to the barn where Jared, Rachel and their two kids along with Misha, Molli and Zalyn were all huddled together outside.

“Everyone, we would like to tell you something.” Jensen announced catching all of their attention.

(Y/N) smiled widely, “We’re going to adopt a child!” Everyone started cheering and hugging them.

That is when their photographer came by asking to take their picture together, “One, two, three, Family!”

“Family!”

That was exactly what they were. Not by blood or by marriage, but a family they chose. A family they built.

The End

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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#spnfluffbingo #tfwb series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jared padalecki fanfiction #jared padalecki fanfic #misha collins fanfiction #misha collins fanfic #jensen x reader #jared x rachel ofc #misha x molli ofc #fluff #au

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hunidlo · 3 years

Text

Call of Fire

CHAPTER 2 - The Purpose

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Warnings: slow burn fic, violence, injuries, death, grief, language

A/N: English is not my first language so apologies for any mistakes in grammar. I’m basically making stuff up about the reader’s powers but why not, right?

Summary: Taunting a bandit is never a good idea. Thank Maker, Mando is near to save the day.

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***

The Mandalorian stands on the top of the ramp to his ship looking in the direction of your escape, the stick still firmly clutched in his hand. He tosses it to the side with frustration and shakes his head to clear his mind and forget about the whole incident. He knows he has more pressing matters to attend to right now. He looks at the tracking fob which is now flashing rapidly with red light.

He lifts his head and looks again towards the woods where you have disappeared just moments ago—

“Shit!” he sighs.

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

You are trying to calm down and catch your breath. Your knees buckle, taking you to the ground. You sit exhausted, stabbing pain regularly shooting to your side.

“You mean ... like ... a real Mandalorian?” Zullu is standing above you, wiping sweat from her forehead with dirty hands, smearing mud all over it. “Like from my gran’s stories?”

“Yep,” you say simply.

And then you start laughing. Hysterically. It might be the exhaustion, or maybe you just can't believe you pulled off sneaking into a ship belonging to a Mandalorian. Maybe both … but you are currently laughing yourself silly.

Zullu is watching you awkwardly. She chuckles a couple of times until she is laughing with you and your guffaws echo through the forest.

“We should get back to the village,” you say eventually, still panting and your stomach aching from all the giggling. “I owe you—by the way—you totally saved me back there,” you admit and Zullu smiles at you in appreciation.

“D-do you think he’s following us?” Zullu is biting her nails and keeps looking over her shoulder as you walk.

“Relax. If he was, he would have already caught us.”

Oh, just how badly you have underestimated him.

***

You’re finally getting closer to the village when the sun is about to set. You’re exhausted but you can’t stop wondering, what is a Mandalorian doing on this planet.

Then again, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know and if you are lucky, he’ll leave just as quickly as he appeared because the last thing the people in your village need right now, is more trouble. And he sure looked like a lot of trouble … broad-shouldered, mysterious, intriguing, and so intimidating … yeah, ... basically a definition of trouble.

“Gran used to say, most Mandalorians were mercenaries and bounty hunters. Maybe he’s really here because of ... you.” Zullu says out of nowhere, interrupting your—let’s be honest, slightly embarrassing—train of thought.

You shake your head when you process what she’s saying, “Nonsense, how could he possibly ... it’s been fifteen years ...”

“Yeah, but they don’t forget, you know,” Zullu frowns, looking genuinely worried. “You can’t be hiding here forever.”

“Fed up with me already?” you try to lighten the now heavy atmosphere. In fact, you are not overly fond of the conversation getting far too serious now.

“No … n-no, you know you’re my best friend”—she’s looking down at her feet as always when she’s struggling to find the right words—“it’s just … I feel … feel like you have a different … purpose, you know? ... Like in life? ... You’re not supposed to work on the field for the rest of it.”

“What’s wrong with the work on the field?”

“Except the fact that you hate it?”

You don’t like her sarcastic tone—yet—she’s got a point. You love the village, you love the people, but a farmer’s life is just not for you. You crave adventure. Maybe that’s why you so desperately seek it whenever a chance occurs. Eventually, you have to admit to yourself that—to some extent—that’s why you want to fight the bandits … and why you so recklessly pissed the Mandalorian off ...

… And then there’s the thing about your origin and your parents. Fifteen years ago, your parents left you here to hide you—to save you. The villagers took you in. You want to go to search for your parents but … you could never leave Zullu.

“I …,” Zullu continues when you’re being quiet for too long, “I just think … know actually … you’re meant to—.”

“And you?” you smile and try to steer the conversation away from you. “What’s your life purpose?”

She shrugs, “Uh ... don’t know... haven’t found my purpose yet.”

“Well, I’m sure yours is much greater than mine.”

Zullu exhales through her nose. “Don’t you wanna know why your parents left you here, hiding you from—” She looks over her shoulder one more time. “—the Empire?” she whispers the last words as if someone might be eavesdropping.

Oh no, here we go—the topic you wanted to avoid.

“The Empire is gone,” you reply, “my parents are ... too—most probably—so we might just never know.”

“A-and you’re okay with that? I mean… not knowing who you really are?”

“Yes,” you say resolutely. “And I’m fine with working on the farm for the rest of my life,” not so resolutely.

Zullu tilts her head sideways, raises her eyebrows at you and blinks slowly.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” irritation in your voice is now undeniable.

“Because… the Mandalorian—”

“Oh, Mandalorian-Shmandalorian ...” you snap.

“... and I haven’t told you but—” she continues, ignoring your comment, “—I have overheard mum talking about you. She said … said your parents—”

“Do you hear that?” you cut her off. “Listen ...”

And then you hear it again. The horn.

The horn!

What? No. No! It’s too early, it can’t be ... next week … it’s three months next week … they shouldn’t be here this early.

Wasting no more time, you burst into a sprint and run to the village as fast as you can. Zullu’s right behind you.

The villagers are just as confused as you are but are already gathering on the square nevertheless.

“What’s happening? They shouldn’t—” Zullu panics.

“I know,” you exhale, “They’re early. We’re not ready.”

“What do we do?”

You sigh but do not reply to her.

The bandits head straight to the barn to look for the stored food. Their leader is watching over the villagers who stand in a line as always. One of the bandits comes over and whispers something to his boss, but you can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Take everything, we’re gonna need it,” the leader replies to his mate and dismisses him with a simple wave of his hand.

With that … Shit! The fire’s back. It’s back and it’s running through your body like molten lava—

“You can’t!” you hear yourself crying out with a voice firmer than you expected. “You’re early … we couldn’t … the people will starve here!”

Zullu, who is standing next to you, turns her head in your direction wide-eyed.

You are not exactly sure why you did it—and what you should do next—but you can't let them steal all your supplies, right?

The leader takes a few steps forward and looks down at you.

Surprisingly enough, you’re not scared. You’ve seen a more intimidating gaze today and this guy is nowhere near as threatening as the Mandalorian. So you give him the most defiant look you have. And then—

Your little staring competition ends abruptly when the bandit slaps you with the back of his armoured hand and watches as you drop to your knees.

Son of a bitch, that hurt. That fucking hurt. You hold your jaw in your hand and flex it as you feel the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth.

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

“Stupid … again … brave … but stupid,” the Mandalorian exhales to himself.

He’s lying on the top of the hill above the village, observing the whole scenario through the scope of his rifle.

He rises to his feet with an irritated grunt.

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

You don’t remember ever being hit like this. Your jaw hurts but you’re determined not to let the bastard enjoy humiliating you. You need a few moments to recover but then you slowly get to your feet again, put on the same venomous look as before, and spit in the bandit’s face, spattering a considerable amount of blood mixed with your saliva all over his repulsive visage.

“You little ...” The bandit wipes the blood with the back of his hand and gropes for his blaster.

To your astonishment—and before you can come up with an action plan preventing you from being shot in the head—he suddenly halts his movement and is now looking over your shoulder, squinting at something behind you.

You follow his gaze and turn around to see ...

… the Mandalorian?

Huh, so he followed you back after all.

Only now can you take a proper look at him as he’s slowly approaching the village. Sure, you saw—and let’s not forget also fought—him back on his ship, but everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to fully scrutinize the way he looks.

You should not be so amazed. You used to listen to Zullu’s grandmother—eagerly hanging on her every word—when she told the stories about the Mando’ade to local children in the evenings. You knew the Mandalorians are bound with a creed and their culture revolves around war and battles which the elderly woman used to tell you about. Never have you imagined them to be this impressive though. So you just stand there with your mouth half open, taking in every detail of him as he comes nearer.

He’s tall, evidently agile and strong, judging by his arms and thighs. Well, and you also remember how hard his grip was on you this afternoon. His armour seems almost crimson now as it reflects the light of the setting sun. Beskar—you recall— that's what the old woman said their armour was made of. He has a rifle strapped to his back, a blaster by his side, and the wind plays with his cape as it flutters behind him. What a presence.

His helmet is pointed at the bandit standing next to you, piercing him with the same intimidating look he gave you when he caught you sneaking into his ship.

“Let them go,” he says, his voice dark and foreboding.

“We have no quarrel with you, Mando. Feel free to turn around and walk away.” The bandit is trying to stay calm but he’s just whistling in the dark.

“If you don’t want to start one, leave the supplies and never come back.” The Mandalorian is getting closer and closer to the square keeping the same slow resolute pace.

The other raiders have already noticed the disturbance and one by one began emerging from the barn, joining their leader on the square.

The Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care much that he’s outnumbered. He stops and rests his hand on his holster. He looks at the villagers and jerks his helmet to the side. They understand the gesture and back up slowly. You intend to do the same.

However, the bandit leader notices your intention, quickly wraps an arm around your neck and pushes you in front of him, hiding thus his body behind you. He’s now taking slow steps back—retreating—using your body as a human shield.

“Kill him,” he growls and drags you behind the cart that is conveniently standing in the square with half of your supplies already loaded up.

Your back is pushed to the offender's chest so you're facing away from all the action and you can only hear when the blasters begin shooting all at once. You have no idea what’s happening on the square behind you. You can hope for the best but you’re not entirely sure what it is. From what you know, the Mandalorian might be just as barbaric as the bandits so it might be out of the frying pan and into the fire for the village anyway.

After a good ten minutes of shooting, dull bangs and a couple of shrieks, there’s silence.

Suddenly—you’re being pulled out from the hideout. The last bandit standing is pushing you in front of him and you can feel a barrel of his blaster now pressed to your temple.

There are about ten bodies lying scattered around the square—lifeless—a smoke from the blaster shots still rising from some of them. With your peripheral vision, you can see a few of the survivors disappearing in the woods. They apparently decided to cut and run.

The Mandalorian is kneeling on one knee, leaning over one of the bodies, checking their vital signs. He swiftly draws his weapon again when he sees you two approaching.

“Drop the blaster, Mando,” the bandit warns. “Drop it, or I’ll kill her.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands up slowly and lays his blaster on the ground. However, as he raises to his feet, a flock of little whistling arrows shoots from his vambrace and flies towards you. You shut your eyes awaiting certain death. Instead, the pressure against your temple disappears, the arm around your neck eases its grip and the bandit falls dead behind you.

You raise your vision only to see the Mandalorian striding towards you. You’re still petrified and puzzled.

Suddenly, he stops midway, staring emptily behind you.

Um ... this is not good.

You slowly turn around and gulp.

A horde of bandits, probably the rest of their encampment is rushing towards you. Ten or fifteen brutes armed with blasters, knives and spears got alerted somehow and are ready to avenge their fallen comrades.

“Hide!” the Mandalorian shouts to you, raising his blaster again.

You do as you’re told. You run past him and across the square, noticing the huts are deserted. All the villagers must have already fled to the woods during the first shootout. You can only hope that Zullu escaped with them.

You dash into the woods not stopping for a moment. You can still hear the shooting behind you coming from the village. You should find the others, find Zullu, make sure she’s alright—

A figure comes from their hideout behind one of the trees about fifty feet in front of you.

It's one of the bandits.

“Going somewhere?” he smirks at you, his blaster already levelled at your chest.

He doesn’t wait for your reaction. A blaster shot echoes through the forest. For a second time today, you close your eyes awaiting the inevitable. When you open them again, Zullu is standing in front of you, her hands spread out in a protective gesture.

“No!” you cry out, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes.

She falls backwards to your arms and you slowly put her to the ground with trembling hands, holding her head in your lap as you kneel under her.

You hear the bandit in front of you burst into laughter. Horrible, gruesome laughter. Rage is building in your body, igniting every molecule. You look at him to see he’s raising his blaster once more to point it at you.

You’re going berserk, the fire is spiralling through you more intensely than ever before. You feel like your body would combust if you hold it back longer. You can’t fight it anymore. You won’t.

Somehow instinctively, you stretch your arms out in front of you, your fingers spread out but you’re slowly, convulsively closing them up. The bandit’s body lifts from the ground. Confused, he frantically kicks around, searching for solid ground under his feet. Then, his face distorts into a horrifying, painful grimace. You are holding him in front of you for a couple of seconds until you abruptly spread your arms with an excruciating scream. Following the movement of your hands, the bandit’s body is torn in half in front of your eyes. His lower half is tossed vigorously to the left, his torso to the right, colliding with the nearby tree with a splashy thud.

You have absolutely no understanding of what just happened but you have no time to think about it now. You quickly turn your attention to Zullu who is looking at you with glossy eyes.

There’s a nasty blaster wound in her belly and she’s covering it with her weak hands.

“Zullu—,” you cry out, “—fuck—what have you done?”

“I saved you, dummy.” Her chuckles turn to cough.

“... You’re gonna be alright. We’ll get you help … just stay with me, okay?” You try to shift yourself under her body so that you can attend to her wound.

She grabs you by your wrist and shakes her head. “I’m fine ... I’m ready ... f-found … my purpose ...,” she struggles to speak, “... now promise me, you’ll find yours.”

“Don’t talk like that—”

“I saw what you did … I’ve always known … you’re special.”

“I-uh ...” You’re lost for words.

“... I overheard mum saying … saying your father was a doctor—clone engineer … worked for the … Empire … betrayed them … they hunted him ... that’s why your parents hid you here.” Zullu coughs and takes a couple of deep breaths before she speaks again. “She knows where they are.” Zullu looks straight to your eyes as she continues, “I’m sorry I haven’t told you before. I was scared you would leave, but I know now that you have to go, you have to find them.”

“You’re my best friend, I won’t leave you, I need y—” a choking sense of despair causes your voice to crack before you are able to finish.

“You were never meant to stay on this p-planet ... you’re meant to do great things ... I know it ... find your parents, find your purpose … promise me ...”

You feel dizzy now. “Zullu—”

“Promise me!” she urges.

“I promise ...”

She smiles at you, raising her hand to touch your cheek but it collapses on the ground beside her and you witness the sparks in her eyes die out.

You burst into tears and tug her close to you. Hugging and squeezing her motionless body—consumed by aching grief—you cry.

You do not know how much time has passed but you finally find the strength to get up from the ground. You gently pick Zullu’s body up. The shooting that could have been heard from the village before has ceased.

You slowly walk towards the village, carrying Zullu in your arms. You don’t care about the possible threat that might still be lurking in the woods. Your mind is blank, you feel empty inside. There’s nothing left, only pain.

You have lost everything today.

***

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fan fic #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal

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