#kinda sad… that Sam will never get to change his full name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgurrrl · 7 months

Text

Sam

Author’s note: Inspired by @pomegranatevampire’s amazing drawing of Ellie and a puppy and written with permission from the original artist 🩷 dedicated to my childhood dogs who passed away a year ago next month whose love and dedication taught me more about life than anything else (PS please listen to Sam by Strugill Simpson I LOVE IT)

Summary: "he heard them as they walked past say 'too big, too old, too damaged'. so still he waited, patiently, for someone to accept the things he could not change. for someone to stop and say 'i choose you.'" - zeppelin moon aka Joel and Ellie adopt a dog [1.2k]

Warnings: talk of nightmares, PTSD, brief mention of addiction recovery, puppy fluff :-)

"No. Absolutely not." Joel says within a millisecond of seeing Ellie with the mutt at the back door. It's not a particularly big dog. He's small enough for Ellie to hold him but big enough that she has to use both arms and balance him on a hip to keep him steady. Even then, it wouldn't matter how big or small it is because he's perfectly content in the girl's arms.

"I didn't even say anything!" She whines, and Joel shakes his head.

"Don't matter. The answer's still no."

"Look at his little face! You can't say no to that face!" Ellie says, grabbing the dog's nose and turning his face toward Joel in a show of big, sad eyes from both of them. The dog, which Joel now realizes is more a puppy than anything else, is surprisingly calm when Ellie grabs him. No growling or biting. He didn't even flinch. It's impressive that such a feral thing wouldn't react negatively to her.

There isn't an abundance of dogs in Jackson. Most of them are used for work, joining on patrols, and whatnot, but every so often, some dogs fail out of the training. Sometimes, they're adopted by families in Jackson, and other times, they're left to their own devices to roam the town. Everyone does their part to take care of them by giving them food and belly rubs when they want them, but for the most part, they keep to themselves. This heap of brown, black, grey, and white fur, however, is practically melting at any form of attention he can get. Even Joel's hardened glare.

"Please, Joel, let me stay," Ellie says in a goofy voice, moving the dog's head like he's the one who's talking, and Joel rolls his eyes. Goddammit. If he loved this girl less, he would be able to stand his ground and force the canine back out to the porch. But he can't, and he doesn't.

"One night. He can stay for one night, but then he's gotta go back out." He relents, and Ellie looks like she could explode with glee. She puts the dog down and opens the back door, letting the puppy rush over to Joel in a tidal wave of excited squeals and slobber. If he thought Ellie was excited, it was nothing compared to the animal half in his lap and licking his face.

"Laika! Get off Joel, you psycho!" Ellie shouts before physically picking up the dog and putting him back on the floor.

"You already named him?" Joel asks, and Ellie smiles sheepishly. "What kinda name is Laika anyway?"

"Laika was the first animal in space. She was a mutt they found on the streets of Russia and thought she'd be a good fit."

"Why?"

"They thought because she was a stray, she could withstand space conditions. I don't know how true it was, though, 'cause they never brought her back."

"So, you named him after a dead Russian dog stuck in space forever?"

"No, I named him after one of the greatest heroes to ever live. Get it together, old man." Ellie says matter-of-factly before snapping her fingers and running up the stairs with Laika on her heels.

That night, Ellie feeds, walks, and makes a makeshift bed for Laika on her floor out of blankets and a pillow from the downstairs couch. Laika is quiet as he adjusts to going from living outside full time to being waited on hand and foot by Ellie, but he greets her with tail wags and affectionate licks when she gets close enough. When Joel peeks his head into her room after she's fallen asleep, he sees that Laika has forgone the homemade bed and has instead crawled into bed with Ellie. He's sitting at the edge of it, staring at the door, when Joel comes in, and he swore he heard the dog growling before he realized it was Joel. Not that he wants the dog to be violent or reactive, but it's good to know that he's protective over his little girl. Laika: Once an explorer of space (and Jackson), now a protector of Ellie.

Of course, Laika ends up staying for longer than just one night. Joel and Ellie take him to the vet in town to make sure he's healthy and has everything he needs. After a few shots, Laika is given a perfect bill of health and sent on his way. They go to the store together and buy a food bowl, a bed, and a rope that Joel ties to make a tug-of-war toy for him. He may not have wanted the dog at first, but he still deserves some toys, right?

It isn't until winter that Joel realizes just how important Laika is to Ellie. Winter is hard for both of them. Memories of that first winter spent together haunt their days and nights and make it hard to breathe, let alone sleep. One night, Ellie wakes up crying so loud that Joel hears from down the hallway, and he quickly rushes to her aid. However, when he gets there, he sees Laika tucked under Ellie's chin, putting a comforting weight in her lap and distracting her from the panic seizing her by the shoulders. Joel tip toes in, not wanting to disturb the peace, and Ellie catches sight of him.

"You alright, kiddo?" He asks, and she nods.

"Laika helped." She says simply. He smiles and sits with them until she's soothed enough to go back to sleep. Even in sleep, Laika stays nearby, snuggling into her chest and sighing contentedly every once in a while. That image of them cuddling in bed seals the deal for Joel. He'll give Laika the best life possible if it means he makes Ellie happy.

Joel gradually warms up to the dog as he grows into his too-big paws and personality. He feeds him scraps of food from the dinner table and finds quality sticks from the yard to throw him during their sunset backyard time together as a family. On late-night patrols, Laika is the first one to greet him with excited sniffs and licks. Laika is also shockingly good at reading Joel's emotions too. When the weight of grief gets too much, or he feels himself teetering between sobriety and relapse, Laika will nudge his leg with his nose and distract him from distressing thoughts. Joel learns to enjoy Laika's company and vice versa.

If Joel is downstairs playing guitar or woodworking while Ellie's asleep, Laika will walk down there and sit at his feet just so he has some company. Joel often rewards him with ear scratches and a kind word or two. "You're a good dog, ain't ya?" He'll ask, and Laika will perk up as if to say, "Who? Me?" "I know Ellie tells ya that all the time, but I thought you oughta know I think you're pretty cool, too." Laika's tail always thumps against the floor when Joel talks to him like that, and Joel always gets a weird sense of pride in his chest, knowing he made the dog happy. "Yeah. You're a good boy." Then, after a quick kiss to the head and a belly rub, he'll nudge Laika with his foot. "Now go on and get your girl." With that, Laika walks back up the stairs and takes his sentinel position at the foot of Ellie's bed.

And only once he knows that both of his humans are happy and safe will Laika lay down his soft head and dream secret dreams of smiling faces and sticks thrown through a green field.

#the last of us series #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #joel miller and ellie williams #ellie and joel #joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #the last of us

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glenncoco4 · 1 year

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Olé, Olé, Olé

A/N: Haven’t been on the baby train for awhile and I’m not completely yet but here’s a little something.

••••

“Well, that's officially it. Done with all law enforcement entities.” Placing the guns back in their rightful places, Deeks can feel his heart rate speed up a bit. It’s the feeling he fully expected when they decided to call it quits, full-on euphoria. And it’s absolutely amazing.

“It’s kinda weird. I thought I’d be more sad.”

He pulls the gate shut and turns around meeting his now former partner’s eyes. “You do realize you have tears in your eyes, right?”

“That’s not what that’s about.” She does her best to keep the strain out of her voice but fails once she sees the worry in his eyes. Those beautiful cerulean blues.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind.”

The brunette shakes her head, letting the unshed tears slip from her eyes as he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her body into his. Her quickening heart rate immediately starts to slow down as his forehead meets hers. Releasing a calming breath, she’s finally able to get her words together. “I didn’t. It’s just so much of our life has happened because of this place. I never expected any of it when I joined. My sole mission was to find my dad’s killer and now I’m walking away willingly, something my 20-year-old self never imagined, with a life I never in my wildest dreams could’ve conjured up.”

“You did good, baby. Your dad would be so proud of you.”

A small smile crosses her face. “Yeah.” Something about his words suddenly hit her in the chest, and she burrows her head in his chest letting all she’s feeling come out fully. “He’s gonna miss so much…already has.”

“Oh, baby.” The former investigator can feel tears well in his eyes as she continues to shake in his arms. Pulling her closer to him, he leaves no space between them. He knew it was gonna hit her hard eventually, but didn’t expect it today.

“You know sometimes I imagine what it would’ve been like when I introduced you to him.”

“If he’s wearing an old Touching Wood t-shirt and rocking a mullet wig when I step through the door we have the same image.”

She lets out a teary-eyed laugh as the snot dripping from her nose makes its way onto his t-shirt. “It’s like we have one mind.” She quickly sobers when a new wave of sadness crashes over her. “Then there’s our wedding day, him meeting Rosa and teaching her all the stuff he taught me and…”

“What?”

“Being in the waiting room, nervously tapping his foot right along with Granger and Killbride as they wait for the baby to be born.”

He pulls back, hands flying to her shoulders as he pulls her back at the same time. Brow furrowed he feels himself being to break out into a cold sweat. “Whose baby?”

“Kensi and Marty’s.” She nervously bites her lip as the confession leaves her lips and makes its way to his ears.

“Th-those are our names.”

“Wow, you are more than just a pretty blond with an ass that won’t quit.”

His bottom lip begins to quiver as he looks for any sign that he misheard her. They’re officially done with NCIS and the moment they are the love of his life is telling him they’re having a baby? Can’t be. “Are you sure?”

This time the tears falling from her eyes are paired with the brightest smile. “As sure as the 3 tests Fatima gave me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was on my way to when I realized what was going on but you weren’t back from your dad Hellcat joyride with Sam yet.”

“The one time he lets me drive for fun.” Deeks shakes his head at the timing but it doesn’t stop the smile from spreading to his face, that euphoric feeling back once again.

“How are you feeling?”

A smirk plays at the corner of his lips, eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I can probably show you better than I can tell you.”

He wraps his arms around her waist once again, pulling her into him. Their lips but a breath apart.

“Not in the armory.” Her laugh suddenly switches to a moan and his lips find the lobe of her ear. “On the other hand, one last time wouldn’t hurt. Not like they can fire us.”

XXXX

4 years later

Kensi jumps up and erupts in a cheer as does the rest of the crowd when Rosa’s foot connects with the ball and it sails into the upper right corner right past the reach of the goalie.

“GOAL!!!!”

As their daughter celebrates with her team the brunette turns to her husband whose thrown their 3-year-old on his shoulders, both boys fists pumping in the air in excitement.

“Scoring for Yale in 89th minute, number 4 Rosa Deeks, assisted by number 13 Julie Williams.”

Deeks’ cerulean eyes meet her mismatched orbs, exchanging mirroring smiles. Uncurling his fingers, he directs his hand toward his wife, waiting for a high five as his mini-me does the same. “Don’t leave me hanging, baby.”

“Yeah, mommy, don leab us hangin'.”

Shaking her head, as the whistle sounds the end of the game, she flashes her pearly whites at her husband connecting her hand with his, and after she connects with Michael’s he jumps towards her half throwing himself on his mom while his ankles are still locked in Deeks’ grip.

The former investigator huffs a laugh at the toddler's antics. “Hold on buddy.”

Once he lets go, Kensi cradles their boy in her arms and starts blowing raspberries on his tiny cheek making him erupt with laughter. He’ll never get enough of this. His mind briefly flashes to the day this beautiful, albeit sketchy brunette walked in on his op. Never in a million years did he think they’d end up here.

“Final score Connecticut Huskies 3 and your Yale Bulldogs 4. Thank you for coming out tonight and drive safely. We’ll see you for the next game this Thursday when your Bulldogs take on Cornell for the Ivy League Conference championship.”

Kensi senses Deeks eyes on her and stops her assault on their boy. She looks up, meeting his eyes and it suddenly feels like they’re back in that moment in the boat shed confessing nothing but really everything. So much trust and dare she say love swarming in both of their eyes. It all led to this…every single moment they’re shared together and apart.

They’re so lost in the other they don’t see Rosa run up with Julie until she’s calling after her brother.

“Mikey!”

“Sissy!”

Michael all but jumps out of his mom’s arms and into his sister’s outstretched ones. His tiny arms wrapping around her neck in a big hug. “You did good.”

She places a kiss on his cheek with a smile. “Thank you, bubba.”

Kensi’s heart melts more and more each time she sees them together knowing her husband feels the same. What started out in a gym got them to this. Life is��wild.

The pair exchange high fives with Julie and hugs with Rosa once Michael loosens his grip.

“You girls played an amazing game.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Deeks.”

Before Deeks can say anything one of the girls’ teammates call out to them, coaxing them to come back over. Nodding Rosa looks at her brother who’s already shaking with anticipation when he sees the soccer ball at her feet. “You wanna go kick the ball around?”

The 3-year-old pulls out the puppy eyes that are all Martin Atticus Deeks and makes sure to give a does to both his parents. “Pwease?”

“Go on.” Kensi huffs a laugh as his hazel eyes light up in excitement and flings himself from his sister’s grasp, hightailing it to the middle of the pitch.

As they run off onto the field Deeks wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her into his side, and places a kiss on the top of her head, taking in her scent. “Mmm. Sunshine and Cheetos. Two of my favorite things.”

“You can thank your son for the Cheetos.”

He huffs a laugh and places another kiss on the top of her head. The feel of her body shaking against his makes him grow curious until he looks up and sees their boy practicing his celebration goal as he gets one past Julie.

He can’t wipe the huge grin off his face when she turns into his chest, burrowing her face into him trying to muffle her terrifying cackle. “And you said we’d never end up happy together.”

Her laughter quickly dies off as she tilts her head back, eyes meeting as she closes the distance between their lips. “Touche.”

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #Kensi x Marty #Familia Deeks #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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roadforged · 6 months

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sammi. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

BASIC INFO

full name — Sam(mi) Williams age — twenty-five (february 12th) gender — cis female, (she/ her/ her pronouns) orientation — bi-curious occupation — rancher deity connection — nemesis pet name — tba weapon — (heavy) crossbow + studded leather armor clothing style — girl next door, e-girl and casual mix aka me like, me wear

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Chloe Grace Moretz hair — blonde / eyes — green height — five foot & four inches build — slim-ish, but lil curvy thanks to slim waist scars — a few minor ones from ranch work and playing out in the wild as a child, no major scars tattoos — her mother's name and birthdate on her left upper arm with a drawing of her mother's favorite old oak tree they spent a lot of time at piercings — yuss 1 and 2 special characteristics — she's a little mouthy sometimes, short-tempered, but ... mostly reasonable, not giving a lot of fucks attitude sexual preference— switch

PERSONALITY

alignment — chaotic ladies positive traits — , reasonable, loyal, resourceful, semi-good heart, kinda hyper negative traits — short-tempered, stubborn, driven hobbies — hunting, wood carving, tending to animals, driving, hiking, music

MEDICAL INFO

mental — sad but fine tbh physical — fine phobias — fuck spiders eyesight — 20/20 dominant hand — left hand drug use — occasionally alcohol use — ye, but not regularly diet — fast food pls and thx

BACKGROUND

birthplace — reno, NV parents — Elizabeth Turner (mother) & Samuel Williams (biological father) - both deceased, Nemesis (biological mother) siblings — n/a pets — pinky, tomtom, doodle (her 3 fav horses back home) education — high school graduate notable skills — not afraid to get her hands dirty, she's tougher than she looks and used to hard work, drives trucks like no other

BIO

Sammi's father fell for a beautiful woman traveler staying in the same resort he did. The woman never intended to stay, so when she left after they spent a few nights together, Samuel wasn't that surprised. She'd rode into town for a gig - or something, he hadn't asked for more than she had been willing to share. And they didn't spend enough time together to change that. He went back to the ranch he and his older sister had taken over from their parents and life continued.

Nine months later, that man unknowingly became the proud father of a little girl, a girl he wouldn't get to meet at all in his life, because he had been hurt in an accident with the horses at the ranch and never made it to the hospital. His sister took over the ranch on her own after that, hired a few workers in the hopes of making do and didn't expect to find a newborn in her care.

There were two letters in the basket next to Sammi. One for Elizabeth, one for Sammi. Elizabeth read them both, but chose to keep Sammi's hidden until she was old enough to understand. Her own was a plea to look after the child. She did. How could she turn away from her beloved brother's child?

She was named after the most important man in Elizabeth's life. They'd lost their parents early and took care of each other growing up, so losing him had hit her incredibly hard.

They had to give up the ranch eventually and Elizabeth took her daughter and some of the animals she didn't want to sell back home to Kentucky where her uncle owned a ranch himself. Life didn't necessarily change for them, but with more people around, life was easier on them both.

As she grew older, Sammi was taken on hunts in the woods, learnt how to dress animals she caught, she learnt how to use a gun, the bow and how to defend herself. Mostly. She still went to school and planned to graduate, but she knew college wasn’t for her. Honestly, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, but she had all the time in the world to find out. It was HER life after all.

Elizabeth died when Sammi was fourteen and left her in her family's care. She had left behind a box for Sammi to read when she turned 16; the box held money for a car in case she didn’t have her own by then and Nemesis' letter. She'd meant to give it to her, but passed away before she could and her relatives forgot about it at first.

When she read about her true heritage, everything made sense. She had a name, a location and she had a truck.

Road Trip.

#sammi intro post.#pinned post.

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evansbby · 9 months

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Bestie omg😭😭😭 I knew it was gonna be an emotional roller coaster, but this was so much better than I expected, and I expected no less than a masterpiece!!!

I absolutely LOVED everything about it!!!!!

Steve’s character development?? Omg made me so emotional I cried so much. The way he listened to omega even though everything inside of him told him to end peter… but he still let go for her, bc he loves and he knew he would lose her if he didn’t control himself🥹

And the panic attack? Read about Steve in this situation, Steve the strong alpha who’s always in control, just completely lose himself bc someone dared to touch the woman he loves and talk about their relationship. SO HEARTBREAKING that was the first time I cried during reading this.

And the car ride to her mother’s house pls it was so entertaining😭 Steve suggests to play this game just so he could ask her this question while this cute thing being completely clueless and asks him his fav color😭😭😭😭

But this sweet little moment they had smiling at each other and him kissing her and telling she’s cute I MELTED😭 it almost felt like he’s a normal person🥹

And when they got to her mother’s house, the part with him reading her diary and calling her a nerd omg this little normal couple moments have my heart 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭

And i love how protective he gets when it’s about her, wanting to find one of her mother’s ex bf and kill him cause he touched her? Im such a slut for men like that fr

And god bestie you WRECKED MY HEART with the part where she was screaming and crying after her mother’s letter. Cried so so so much. Omega deserves so much better.

And at his parents house🥹 Steve is such a mama’s boy I can’t. i loved every moment of them at his parents house, it felt like this place really brought out the best of them. At Steve’s place there was Bucky and sam around and idk I just always got the feeling omega is super uncomfortable with that. And at his parents house it felt like she was more calm, and even found a friend🥹 she always wanted a real mother, and her being friend with her mother in law was so good and healthy for her. She never really had anyone to talk to and Steve’s mother really gets her being an omega herself

Omega’s constant need to be with Steve was honestly adorable, yet so sad at the same time. Like she was always afraid that if she’d not never to him he’ll just disappear and leave her alone with her thoughts and she was so scared of that

Ngl at the ultrasound I was kinda scared that their gonna find out that there is no baby but there wad and this moment was so wholesome😭🥹

And yk what I don’t wanna talk about this whole Bucky thing ok this made me way to emotional and i love Bucky and I hate him at the same time and this whole thing just broke me

But the end and the epilogue i just 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 cried!! so!!! Much!!!!!!! IT WAS PERFECT i loved it i just loved the way they both changed so much and became literally perfect for each other. Like they’re actually meant to be. They’re relationship at first felt really forced, like he has her trapped and she doesn’t want to be there, and she was too scared to even look him in the eyes, and he was just a complete asshole. And they change so much to fit each other and make this relationship so healthy and pure and full of love🥹

and the daughter???!!!??? STEVIE IS A GIRL DAD😭😭😭😭😭 and the name Rosie omg!!!!!!!! Love it!!!!!!!

I wrote so much im sorry i just love this fic and you!!! For writing this and thank you so much bestie for working so hard on this you’re so appreciated 💘💘💘🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Thank you so so much for reading and sending this lovely amazing review bestie!!! I love you!!

I also love how you noticed the normal couple moments they had and also Steve trying to be normal too!!! I really wanted to showcase that in this chapter bc I feel like all their moments as a couple have been either super intense or just Steve gaslighting her. So I really wanted to show them being normal!

I’m so happy you enjoyed the whole car scene, it was honestly so much fun to write! Not Steve FINALLY trying to communicate through some weird ass “game” and omega not even understanding and innocently asking his fav colour 🥺🥺🥺 She really is so cute and no wonder Steve finds her cute 😌🥹

All of that was kind of like the calm before the storm, which was the sadness of omega discovering that her mom left her 😭😭

AND YES STEVE IS A GIRL DAD😌🥹🥹🥹 and yes their relationship is a lot better than at the beginning, it’s crazy how far they’ve come!!

Thank you so so much for reading! And never apologise for leaving a long review, I live for asks like these 💖

#poyt 5 spoiler #poyt 5 ask #anon #poyt ask

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

You will remember my name

Part 2 of Ember

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m so stoked y’all liked my first fic! I really appreciate all the love and support you guys have no idea. (This might have to stretch to three chapters lol)

Tony Stark X daughter!reader

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Tonys pov

A tense silence filled the halls of the Avengers tower. It’s been a week since Y/N left the tower in tears. It’s been two days since anyone has seen the girl to think of it. The first few days it was thought the girl was just staying with a friend while she cooled off. But after the third day, a bad feeling settled in the stomachs of the heros. By the fourth day, they asked some of Y/Ns closest friends.

No one has seen her.

Pepper called her aunt, Pamela Isely, but the women said that the last time she spoke to her god daughter was a week before this whole mess happened.

By the time the week was over, it was concluded that Y/N Stark was missing.

Tony Stark was not a perfect father. He knew that, of course he knew. I mean, he didn’t exactly have the positive male role models growing up other than Jarvis. He knew he wasn’t going to be a perfect father. He just never thought he’d screw up this badly.

He found out he had a daughter four months after the Battle of New York. He had gotten the news that an old fling of his had died during the attack. leaving behind a daughter. Feeling bad for the kid, he began to set up a college fund for her, as he knew what it was like to lose someone in a tragic way. At first he thought nothing of it, just simply seeing it as a good deed. But then one night, during one of his restless nights, he began doing the math and figured out that the age of the girl was just about nine months off from when he had...met her mother. Needless to say Pepper was shocked when she woke up to Tony passing out.

After a few minutes of being yelled at by Pepper and another hour of coming to terms with this discovery, Tony made plans to find the girl.

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Y/n pov

After explaining your situation with your father to the boy, you realize that you still didn’t know his name. Turning to him you ask for it.

“Oh, my name is Daniel, Daniel Winston.” You snort as you realize the irony of this ghost boys name.

“You mean to tell me that your name is Daniel, and you’re a ghost with white hair??” He glares at you for a second then a small smile creeps on his face, “Well, despite the circumstances, it is kinda funny.” You hum in agreement and let a comfortable silence take over as you try and figure out where you are and if you’re even in New York.

“Hey Danny?” You ask, “Where are you from?”

“Bludhaven, I was walking home from school when I was taken. Why do you ask?”

“Because” You reply,” I was taken from New York.” A heavy silence falls over you both as you realize that you’re both unfamiliar with your surroundings. There weren’t any markings to indicate where you were. The base was nestled in a corner of abandoned buildings that looked like factories. The sky was dark and you couldn’t see any stars. There was a strange scent in the air that you chalked up to air pollution. You both continue walking when you see a building with its lights on.

“Danny, that’s the only building so far that has any lights, we should go check it out.” He looked hesitant, and he wasn’t wrong to be. The building was an old shoe factory, it was dark and looked as if a sneeze could take the whole thing down. Whoever was in there probably wasn’t good company.

“ Are you sure you want to go in there?’ Danny's voice full of doubt, “Maybe we should keep going till we actually get into town.” While his idea was the more logical one, you were starting to get tired, blowing up a building with freaky ghost powers takes a lot out a a young girl.

“I think we should go, I need to rest up and we don’t know how far the town will be. We don’t even know what town this is.” And with that, you start to make your way to the building, a hesitant ghost trailing behind you.

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Tony's POV

Tony realizes locking himself up in his lab really isn’t going to help find his missing daughter. He just can’t believe he screwed up this badly. His own child, thought she wasn’t loved. He did that to her. A rage filled his body as he angrily swept everything off his work table. The clatter of wrenches and pens filled his ears as he stared at the wall.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention. He turned to see Steve Rogers walking in with a box of chinese food and a stern face. Quietly, the blond man took a look at the state of the lab, shook his head and placed the food on the table.

“We picked straws to decide which one of us had to come convince you to come out.” Steve said breaking the silence between the two men. Tony said nothing as he continued to look at the wall.

“You know, you have some nerve to lock yourself away.” Tony jerked his head over and stared at the man . “ What did you just say?”

“You damn well heard what I said.’ Steve shot back. “ Your daughter is missing. She disappeared into thin air. And you’re in here doing what? Throwing your tools around?”

“Are you going to lecture me?” Tony said in a bored voice.” Because of you are, i want to take notes”

“You know this is your problem. You don’t care.” Steve said angrily. “ You don’t care that your daughter is missing. You don’t care that for eight years, the longest conversation you’ve had with her was when you were introducing her to this team.” Steve stood up from the table and walked back to the door before Tony could say anything. “It’s been a week Tony. She’s been missing for a week. We need to find her.” He walked out without another word.

And again, Tony was alone. Alone with his thoughts, and alone with his regrets. Then he realizes, if he wants a chance to make up all those years, he’s going to need to find you first.

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Y/n POV:

Getting into the factory wasn’t too hard, considering you can just walk through walls now. The real hard part finding someone to help, as there was no one in the building. In fact, the only living thing in the factory was the surprising amount of vines and greenery over taking the space.

“hey, Y/n.. maybe we shouldn’t be here...” Danny whispered, ‘” this place is creeping me out.”

“D, you don’t have to whisper, I’m the only one who can hear you.”

You answer as you look around, the room you were in seemed like an office of some sort. Then you noticed something.

“Danny, those vines...they lead out of the room”

And with that you start walking towards the door, but before you can make it you hear loud voices, two women from what you can tell.

“....mmy you can’t keep doing this to yourself....”

“i....never let her go with him....”

You can’t hear what they’re saying, you take a step forward and accidently step on a vine.

“wait...there's someone here.”

Oh shit. You look at Danny in surprise as there was no way these people would have known you were here.

Then suddenly, the room of plants came to life. Vines started thrashing around, searching for the intruder.

“WHAT THE FUCK” Danny yelled as a vine goes through is body. “Y/N lets get out of here!” In your panic, you forget you can literally turn into a ghost, so you look for a window to get out of. Before you can climb, a vine suddenly wraps around your leg and pulls you out of the room.

“Y/N!!”

You thrash as you are pulled down the hallway, around corners, and painfully down stairs. You scratch at the floor, desperate to find something to cut the vines. Then your eyes start glowing. Your skin melting to a pale blue. You blast through the plant as you start floating upwards. You shoot the plants around you with a blue mist like energy.

“What is that?” “Aye whatta you doing here?” Wait. You know that voice.

Looking up, you get distracted and a vine wraps around your body, restricting your movement. You struggle for a while till you hear it.

“Y/N?” You stop and look up. You change back to your normal appearance, shocked.

“Aunt Pam?!”

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

TONY’S POV

After Steves not lecture, Tony got to work. He had FRIDAY look for anything suspicious in and near New York. By doing that, he found out that there has been an influx of missing people ranging from ages twenty to fifteen. They were going missing from three specific cities: Bludhaven, Gotham, and...New York. Seeing this had Tony's heart sink. He ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was conducting their own investigation. But before he entered, he stopped to listen to the teams conversation.

“How can she just...disappear into thin air..” Sam said in a sad voice. The rest of the team sat in silence.

“Maybe we missed something. There has to be something there.” Natasha said with a desperation no on has heard from her. “It’s been a week Steve, she wouldn’t just leave like that.” And that when Tony decided to make his presence known.

“Maybe she didn’t” He said making everyone jump, “There has been an increase in missing person cases in the cities of Gotham, Bludhaven, and New York. All around the same age as Y/N.”

“So,you’ve decided to step up” Clint said sarcastically. “Where have you been this past week Stark?”

“ Look I know I haven’t been the best parent” Tony said.

“that’s an understatement”, grumbled Clint.

“I love my daughter. I hate the thought of her not knowing that.” Tony finished looking around the room to see the disapproval of the team.

“Fighting isn’t going to find her.” Wanda said quietly. “We need to work together.”

“Wandas right.” Steve said, “FRIDAY ,can you find any abnormal activity in any of the cities?”

“I did a widespread search specifically in the Gotham bludhaven and New York areas. A building in the indrustrial area in Gotham spontaneously collapsed. When authorities searched through the rubble, they found bodies of thirty out of the ninety reported missing people.”

“Was there anyone matching Y/N description,” asked Natasha anxiously.

“FRIDAY bring up the missing kids files”

A long minute went by, and all the files uploaded. The Avengers were all on edge as they flipped through the thirty files. They were relieved when they realized that Y/n was not part of those thirty kids.

Tag list: @big-galaxy-chaos

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #danny phantom x reader #danny phantom #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #avengers x teen!reader #avengers #poc reader #poison ivy #crossover #dc comics #peter parker x stark!reader #reader insert

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Gimme Shelter - 6

Sorry, it took me a while to write the next chapter but I was kinda busy. I hope you still want to know how things are going and growing between Henry and Kat. If you like this, please reward me with a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~3.0k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more? Chapter 6: A disruptive factor and The Lonely Hearts Club meets again.

You can find the previous chapters and my other fics on my masterlist!

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues, lots of poetry

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81

So, enough of the small print...here we go:

**********

As much as Kat enjoyed her time with Henry and the feelings that blossomed between them there was this one disruptive factor called Mel.

When they were sitting on that rock the other day, almost kissing, when they were pouring their hearts out afterwards, it all felt so real, so possible, so tangible but whenever she saw Hen talk to Mel her heart sank and doubt started to nag at her hope. And he not only talked to Mel, he went to her place several times and so Kat went to London for contract negotiations with a publishing house with mixed feelings.

She wanted to trust Henry who always laughed it off, when Kat asked him about Mel, saying they were just having a neighbourly chat, but she also wasn't willing to be heading for the rocks blindly. She wasn't able to ignore the existence of Mel and the connection between her and the man Kat had fallen for again.

She missed Henry terribly when she was away though. Five days without him made her realize how close they had grown and how much she enjoyed being around him. Five lonely nights in a hotel bed increased her doubts and her worries, her jealousy and her insecurities. She couldn't stop her mind from creating worst case scenarios of Hen being with Mel. Of Mel seducing him, of Henry having sex with her, falling for the attractive, charming blonde who knew how to enchant a man. She imagined how he got trapped by this woman who'd never tried to hide that she was looking for a new husband, a new provider, after the last one had the audacity to die and leave her with a big, beautiful mansion but not with the amount of money Mel had hoped for. And in all these scenarios Kat was the one who was left behind with a broken heart. Again.

When she returned to St. Ives on Saturday afternoon she found Lydia working in the garden and Sam in the kitchen, baking bread. Her brother hugged her, leaving handprints of flour on her black shirt.

"How was London?"

Kat plopped down on a chair with a sigh. "Successful but exhausting. I can't believe that I actually liked living there. The traffic is horrible and all those people and the noise…"

"Good thing you're back in our beautiful, little sanctuary then. We've missed you. Even Darcy came looking for you every day." Sam shoved the loaf of bread he'd just moulded into the oven before he washed his hands and sat down at the table across from his younger sister.

"Really?" An amused smile played on Kat's lips. "And I thought Henry and Kal are all he cares about recently. How's Hen by the way? On the phone he said he's fine?"

"He is, I guess. No more panic attacks as far as I know. He's been in a pretty good mood all week, busy and full of energy."

Sam poured himself a glass of water and offered one to Kat too but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Where is he anyway?"

"At Mel's."

Kat's expression changed from curious to annoyed in an instant. "Again? What's he doing there?"

"Having a coffee and a chat, I guess," Sam shrugged. "I don't know the details."

Kat rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you say it?"

Kat looked at Sam with a frown. "Nevermind."

"No, come on. Spill it. Are you implying I know something I won't tell you?" Sam got a little cross now.

"I'm not implying anything. I just don't understand why he spends so much time at her place and I can hardly believe your old rugby mate hasn't told you." She crossed her arms and gave her brother an expectant look.

"He told me what I've just told you. What do you think they're doing? Having a secret affair?" He let out a snort, laughing just at the thought of Hen and Mel but when he saw the frown on Kat's face it dawned on him. "Wait? That's what you're thinking? That something's going on between them? You're jealous?"

"Does that sound so far-fetched? She tries to dig her nails into every man who seems to be good husband material. She tried it with you and you don't need a crystal ball to know that she's for sure trying it with Hen too. And for the record...I'm worried about him, not jealous." Kat was all worked up now and Sam could easily tell that he'd hit a sore point.

"Henry is not an idiot, Kat. From my own experience I can tell you that Mel is anything but an enigma. I could tell what she's looking for after our first and only date and a man like Hen, who has to deal with gold diggers all the time, will see right through her without problems. There's no need to worry. And no need to be jealous." He grinned at her and Kat made a face. "Did you even listen to me? I've just told you that…"

"That you're not jealous. Yeah...yackety-yack. I know you, sis. You're in love with him. Don't try to deny it." Kat sighed and surrendered with a resigned smile. "Fuck, yeah and I feel like I'm sixteen again, Sammy. Confused and clueless. What is it about him that makes me feel like that? Why does it have to be so damn complicated?"

"It's not complicated. Trust him and listen to your heart."

"It's not that easy."

"No, obviously it's not. So maybe you should just ask him about Mel and work on your trust issues."

"It's not like I haven't asked him about her before. But I guess you're right. I'm gonna try again and talk to him tonight." She gave her brother a nod.

"At the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club?" Sam winked at her with a grin that made Kat chuckle.

"He's told you about it?"

"Yeah. He's talked about it all week. Running around with piles of books, volumes of poems as far as I could see. Copying entire pages by hand into a notebook. To be honest, I think it's the reason for his good mood."

****

Maybe, Kat thought, or maybe he just enjoys fooling around with Mel.

When Kat climbed up the rope ladder a few hours later she had managed successfully to avoid Henry up to this point. She had spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding over Sam's words, about Henry and Mel for the umpteenth time and about the club meeting of course. She was close to chickening out but she decided to get her shit together and to enjoy the time with Henry on their little stroll down memory lane. And maybe, just maybe, she would even find the courage to ask him about Mel.

"Kat!" Henry flashed her one of those billion dollar smiles when she entered the tree house. "There you are." He hugged her and gave her a look full of relief. "I haven't seen you all afternoon. I was a little worried you'd stand me up."

"Neighbourly duties?" Kat asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. "Well, you were not around when I came back…"

"Yeah...I was busy." He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Huh?"

"Sam said you went to visit Mel."

"Ah, yes. Yes, I did. You know we have a little chat every once in a while. She's...nice."

"How lovely."

"The room looks great, Hen."

The awkward silence that fell over the room made them both uncomfortable. The unexpected tension left Henry in a state of insecurity. He'd hoped for an easy time with Kat, some intimate moments to share but the start of the night wasn't very promising. He cleared his throat before giving Kat a goofy smile.

"Shall we begin? I've prepared a little something. A few poems and...yeah." He shrugged helplessly and to his big relief Kat nodded with a smile. "Of course."

It was only then that Kat realized that Henry had decorated the treehouse with loving care. Blankets and cushions on the floor and candles in the corner of the room created a very warm and cozy atmosphere and a huge pile of books showed her that Henry was very well prepared for the first meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club since 1999.

"Thanks, kitty. Let's sit." He plopped down beside the books, his long legs stretched out and Kat sat down cross-legged next to him, placing a little bluetooth speaker on the floor. "Prepare for some 90s flashback. I picked all the cheesy love songs we listened to non-stop." She started the playlist and soft music filled the air. Henry smiled at her and took a deep breath before he started to speak solemnly in his best statesman's voice.

The way he looked at her took her breath away for a moment, his gaze intense and pleading, he seemed so vulnerable it made her heart miss a beat. She wanted to kiss the insecurity and sadness that crossed his handsome face away but her own doubts made her fight the need to be close to him. Instead she took the notebook he handed her over and opened it. She stared at the name of the poem that was written down in Henry's neat handwriting on the first page.

"I hereby declare the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club open. Present are the founding members Katherine Elisabeth Spencer and Henry William Cavill."

Kat couldn't help but chuckle. He was such a dork.

"Would you do me the honor of reciting the first poem, dear kitty?"

She knew it all too well and yet she'd almost forgotten it existed. Forgotten or repressed, it didn't really matter, she still knew it by heart, since it was the very poem she had read countless times after Henry had broken her heart. The fact that he knew it too, that he'd chosen these verse to be read out loud made her wonder if it was as familiar to him as it was to her. She cleared her throat, closed the book and her eyes and started to recite.

"When we two parted by George Gordon Byron."

She paused and took another deep breath.

"When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this."

Kat flinched slightly when she felt Henry's warm hand in hers. She looked at him and she wasn't surprised when he continued, his voice warm and soothing like thick, golden honey.

"The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame."

The game was the same it used to be back in the days at Stowe. They took turns to read the stanza. The only difference was that they were holding hands now. Kat spoke the next words with a steady voice although on the inside she was trembling.

"They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell."

She smiled at Henry, sensing that he needed her reinsurance for the last paragraph. He returned the smile and went on.

"In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears."

They sat in silence for several minutes, comfortable silence this time, the quiet connecting them in a way words never could.

"I've got another one you might like." Henry said softly after a while. He reluctantly let go of her hand, took the notebook and searched through the pages. "Here it is."

"Bring it on." Kat smiled at him, hardly able to hide the loving feelings that spread inside her chest and her belly. Henry nodded and began.

"My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety."

"That's beautiful, pop." Kat blushed under Henry's smirk when he heard the nickname slip from her lips. "William Wordsworth?" she guessed.

"Yes. I'd never heard of it before, but Mel showed it to me the other day."

Kat's smile faded like a shadow in the dark.

"Oh really, did she? So that's what you're doing when you meet? You read poems to each other?" Her voice had chilled in an instant, her body language switched from open hearted to closed off. Henry was confused by the sudden change of tone.

"Yes, she told me about it when I mentioned that I was looking for romantic poems by british poets. And no, that's not what we usually do."

"And what do you do? Usually?"

"Nothing special, as I've told you before. And honestly, Kat..it's none of your business anyway."

That felt like a slap in the face to her.

"Right...yeah...you're absolutely right. It's none of my business what you do or who you're fooling around with." Kat got up, tapping off non-existing dirt from her jeans with determined motions that showed how touched and churned up she was.

"Fooling around?" Henry got up too in a hurry, knocking his head on a branch that was part of the treehouse's roof. He cursed before he turned to Kat again. "You can't be serious. You don't really think I f...that I sleep with Mel, do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Henry. You spend so much time with her lately…"

"And I've told you it's harmless and I just visit our neighbour from time to time." He tried to take her hand but Kat took a step back, turning around to stare out of the window with a deep sigh.

"You still don't trust me." His voice was sad now and there was a note of disappointment too.

"I really want to, Henry. But it's so hard…" Her shoulders were trembling and her soft sobs told him she was crying. He hugged her gently from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know, kitty. And I know that I'm the one to blame for this dilemma. But you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and Mel. I don't fuck her and I'm not interested in her. I only care about you. Okay?" The last words were nothing more than a whisper in her ear, a light breeze of tones that made her want to believe him. She nodded, leaning into his embrace but she wasn't able to give him a proper answer. The truth was she had no answer. She knew she loved him but what she didn't know was if she was going to allow herself to act accordingly.

"Listen, Kat. This might not be the right time nor place to do this, but I need to ask you something. I'm going to Jersey next week for my mum's 70s birthday and I wonder if you'd want to come with me?"

Kat turned around in his arms abruptly, taken by surprise by his question. He didn't let go of her waist and so she found herself closer than ever to him, his gorgeous face right in front of her. "You want me to go to Jersey with you?" He nodded. "As my plus one. Yes." She freed herself carefully from his embrace. "But…"

"Let me explain." Henry took a step back to give her some space. "My mum invited me months ago and I accepted...of course...but to be honest, I've dreaded that family gathering since day one. All eyes will be on me, everyone's gonna try to wrap me up in cotton wool, walking on eggshells around me, wondering if I'm okay." He sighed and shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. I'm beyond grateful to have a family that is worried about me, loving people who care, but it also stresses me out. Having you by my side would be very helpful and besides that, I would hate to be separated from you again. Those five days last week were long enough, Kat and don't even make me start with the 22 years prior. You have no idea how much I missed you." He gave her a sheepish smile and she couldn't help but return it. "I missed you too, Hen. But I'm really not sure if this is a good idea. Your parents hardly know me."

"Don't be silly. They remember you very well. You spent Christmas 1998 with us. Please don't say you forgot about that...my parents invited you after I spent the summer with your family here in St. Ives."

"Of course I remember that. It was the most lively and jolly Christmas of my childhood. All those people at your parents house, the chatter and singing and goofing about, it was such a stark contrast to Christmas with my family."

"See...you can have that again. A crowded, noisy place, loads of laughter, alcohol, fun and food. When I asked my mum if it's okay to invite you she was so excited, Kat. She'd love to see you again and so would my dad and my brothers. And I'm sure you're gonna like my sisters-in-law and all my nephews and nieces." Kat smiled.

"That sounds good."

"So you're in?"

"I don't know. Where would we stay? At your parent's?"

"No. I always stay at a small cottage near the beach when I visit them. I bought it a few years ago."

Kat started to chew on her lower lip.

"Two bedrooms." Henry added with a wink before making the next try to take her hands. This time she didn't pull back. "Please say yes, Kat. Let's spend some time together. We can stay there for a week or so. When the whole Cavill bunch leaves after the celebration, it will only be you and me and lots of time to...to bond again. So what do you say?"

*******

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill slow burn #slow burn

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

To light a candle is to cast a shadow

Dannymay Day 9: Candlelight

________________________

TW: Major Character Death

Danny had never been to a funeral before. Never in a million years would he have imagined this one would be his first. He was surrounded by his classmates and teachers and friends. His parents were sniffling quietly off to the while Jazz was a little more open with her grief. He felt so much, like he was a balloon ready to burst that he’d circled back to numbness. All he could do was stare at the gentle flickers of the candles people were holding. And like a candle, Danny was acutely aware of how quickly a life could be snuffed out.

“Danny, pay attention, it’s rude to space out at a place like this,” Tucker whispered in his ear. Danny squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his best friend’s voice.

“Sorry, I,” he whispered back, “this is harder than I thought it’d be.” Sam looked over her shoulder at them. She looked worse than he’d ever her, greasy hair pulled back in a low tail, eyes sallow and not a trace of gothic makeup. It would have smudged with the tears anyway. She was wearing black as always but this time out of grim necessity. If it was hard for him he can only imagine how she was feeling right now.

“Poor Sam,” Tucker huffed. “We should go stand by her, let her know she’s not alone.”

“Yeah just, let’s give it a minute,” Danny said quietly back. “This has been a lot, how are you feeling, Tuck?”

“Oh you know,” Tucker chuckled, moving around to Danny’s other side. “Larger than life.” Danny bit his lip and looked down at the candle held in his shaking hands. He could see ice creeping up the sides, it would go out entirely if he didn’t keep it under control. He’d already let one light go out due to his negligence.

“Not now,” was all Danny could say. He kept his eyes low so he didn’t have to confront his friend’s green skin and glowing red eyes.

“Oh so only the half ghost can make dead jokes?” Tucker said with an audible eyeroll. He floated back around to Danny’s front but he could still see through the ghost to Mr. Lancer giving a weeping statement. “Come on, lighten up. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.”

“Tuck please,” Danny pleaded, a sad keening sound that sounded pathetic to his ears. He saw Star turn to look at him and offer a sad, sympathetic smile before turning back to the speech. “Please, just, can this wait until after the vigil?”

“You don’t have to be sad, dude, it’s not like I’m really gone,” Tucker chuckled. “It doesn’t even hurt. I mean it did, alot, for a second there but then it was over with. Easy. Just think of it as Team Phantom upgraded one of its members!”

“It’s not the same,” Danny frowned, “it’s not, things aren’t going to be the same.”

“And why not?” Tuck said with an eerie edge to his voice. “Danny is the same as Phantom, why can’t it be the same for me?” He grinned and his teeth had sharp edges. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of me again? Afraid I’ll have better, cooler powers as a full ghost?”

“Tuck, you’re dead,” Danny stressed quietly, almost choking on the words he never wanted to say. “You were so brave and so stupid and tried to hack into the school’s PA system while Technus was inside and it... electrocuted you to death.”

“Haha yeah, we really are bros in everything, we even died the same way.” Tucker laughed, watching as Sam was discreetly wiping at her eyes. “Whatever happened to Techy? Things got kinda fuzzy there for a while.”

“Technus is gone,” Danny deadpanned. “When I found you, when I smelled that mix of ozone and cooked flesh I sort of lost it.” He’ll never get that god awful smell out of his mind. He remembered it from his own accident and smelling it again, paired with his best friend’s corpse and Technus’s idiotic ranting in his head. The next thing he remembered was Sam screaming over Tucker’s body and his hands covered in ectoplasm. Technus’ ectosignature had been entirely obliterated.

“Oh hardcore, shoulda done the scary eyes when you said it. It would’ve had more of an impact.” Tucker turned to him with his beaming red eyes, so close yet slightly off from his normal looks. “Hey that means there’s an opening for a technology ghost around these parts. I gotta think of a name, someway to combine Tech and Tuck. I’ll think of it, I mean I have the rest of eternity.”

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Danny asked seriously, finally looking his dead friend in the eye. He was a new ghost, barely had an ectosignature and wouldn’t for at least another few months. Danny was the only one here who could see the ghost haunting his own candlelight vigil. A boy, a friend, gone far too soon. “You could move on, find your peace. Haunting Amity Park forever hardly sounds like a dream come true, I’ve only done it a year and I’m sick of it.”

“Peace? I’m 15, Danny. Peace was never an option.” Tucker lounged until his was floating on his back. He passed through Mikey and Kwan both of whom shivered at the contact. He playfully batted at Sam’s ponytail and she stiffened, like she was doing everything to hold back tears. Sam might not be able to see him but she knew Tuck almost as well as Danny did, knew what a prankster he was. Or at least they had known him. Now Danny doesn’t know quite who or what he’s looking at.

“I’ll hang around with you guys until my core’s stronger then I can pick up some of the ghost butt kicking slack. Amity will have two awesome ghostly superheroes. Or at least until you get bored or old or whatever. Then it’ll just be me, Techer.” He made a face, “oh god that’s awful, forget that one.”

Danny almost smiled, despite everything because with Tuck in front of him chatting as usual, he’d almost forgotten. For a second, the smell and the charred, contracted limbs and Mr and Mrs. Foley’s wailing when they heard the news almost seemed like a far away nightmare. Then Tuck floated forward and clapped his hand around the flame on Danny’s candle, snuffing it out.

“The wax was about to drip onto your hand, you’re welcome, dude,” Tuck preened with his sharpened teeth and glowing aura. “I already got this hero thing down pat.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Danny said wanly. Mrs. Foley got up now and was talking about what a good, considerate son she had. How she was going to miss him every day. Tucker watched her speak with a polite, distant face like she was talking about some character in a story written long ago. He was here, he remembered but there was a palpable disconnect between the Tuck of old and his ghost. Danny wondered how long it would be before his friend was gone entirely, consumed by amnesia and obsession.

“Ugh Danny,” Tuck huffed, crossing his arms petulantly. “Can you cut it out with the waterworks? I’m right here after all.” But he wasn’t, not really. What was in front of him was an echo. Tuck was here but not all of him came along for the ride. The rest, the part that Danny had cherished and relied on for most of his life, was at the morgue ready to be buried in the morning. Closed casket obviously.

Yeah, his friend was still here but death had changed him, like it had changed Danny. And he was going to see a constant reminder of his friend’s death in his face every day until one of them decided to move on. Moments would pass and feel like normal only for him to realize that something vital had been lost. Like a candle casting a shadow, lacking all the warmth and life of the real thing.

#dannymay2021 #major character death #I'm so sorry fam #I wasnt gonna do a prompt today but it came to me in the bath #the first line just grabbed me by the throat #fastest Ive ever dried off and started typing I swear #anyway hiiiiii happy dannymay #tucker foley

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Text

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia.

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?”

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?”

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about.

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks.

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname.

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles.

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom.

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome.

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing.

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying,

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly.

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary.

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice.

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.”

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up.

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.”

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex.

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude.

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously.

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom.

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

#tw: dysphoria #trans dean #destiel #deancas #ftm dean #transmasc dean #fanfic #dean is trans #my writing #mine

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

listen before i go > bucky barnes

|| pairing: bucky barnes x black!reader

|| word count: 6,630

|| warnings: angst, heavy angst, smut, sex, bucky barnes’ trigger words, cock warming if you look close

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 N5: needy clingy sex

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo C1: angst

|| summary: you and bucky just can’t say what you want to say.

|| link: ao3

|| note: sad boi hours are still commencing. this one is gonna hurt, dudes. please heed the warnings. i think i said i don’t like posting on sunday’s, and here i am posting two sunday’s in a row. what are ya gonna do? title inspired by billie eilish’s listen before i go. don’t hate me!

line divider by @writeyourmindaway

Tears leak from your eyes. You cover your face with your hands as he shoves his clothes into his old duffel bag. Say you’re sorry. Don’t let him leave!

“Bucky-”

“Don’t,” he says curtly, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder, “You want me out, I’m leaving.”

You don’t want him out. You don’t… or do you? Yes. You do. That’s what you told your friends. That’s what you told yourself. That’s what you told him. He has to go - he has too. This isn’t working... right? Emotion wracks your body again as he storms past you. Your shoulders shake as the sadness consumes you. Your face breaks, your heart sinks, your cries clog your throat, choking you.

You don’t follow him.

Bucky stops at the door of your apartment, his hand on the knob. He turns his head, just a little, listening to you cry. He closes his eyes, cursing himself. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave you. He should give it up - running around the world, fighting aliens and robots and god knows what else. He’d give it up for you, he would. He should.

He walks out the door and slams it behind him.

----------

It’s been a while, maybe three weeks? Four? You’re not really sure. You’ve busied yourself to keep from thinking about him. You signed up for a cooking class, and a dance class, and picked up a few extra shifts at the bookstore you volunteer at sometimes - just to stay busy. It’s worked for the most part. Between work, your friends, and your new hobbies, you barely have time to think about Bucky Barnes.

That’s a lie. You know exactly how long it’s been. Four weeks. You think about him - not often, this part is true - but you still think about him. Mainly at night, when you’re alone in your big room and your big bed. It’s weird to you now, your bed. Foreign. You never realized how big it was until he wasn’t in it; the whole room really, it’s just so big.

The two of you never made it official, moving in together, but he was there more often than he wasn’t. His broad, heavy body weighing down the mattress, or barely fitting in the shower, but you loved having him here. You always felt safe; consumed by all things him when he was here. Now it’s just empty - quiet. Just you and your little house plant, that he picked out, of course. You just didn’t have the heart to throw it away.

Just like you don’t have the heart to throw him away - his memories.

Not yet.

Not entirely.

That’s why most nights you stare at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name. You’ve tapped it a few times, his name, but always panic as soon as it starts ringing. You tap on the little red phone and throw it into the chair in the corner of the room. You roll over, away from it, just in case it illuminates from an incoming call or text and stare out at the moon, until the emotion just can’t be held back any longer.

You’re lying again. You cry yourself to sleep most nights.

So, this is why you make yourself busy.

----------

It’s been awhile. Four weeks, two days. The girl behind the bar looks like you, kind of. Well, enough to remind Bucky of that soft, warm smile of yours. He remembers it like it was yesterday. It was usually in the morning when you’d give him that smile. You’d have your face buried in the pillows and sheets, little slivers of skin poking out from underneath here and there. He loved to watch you sleep.

He’d do anything to be able to wake up next to you again.

Anyway, it was usually early, early in the morning when you’d smile at him the way that bartender is smiling at him now. You’d be half asleep, not really coherent enough to even know who you were smiling at, but you’d shift next to him - curl right into his body, and just smile. Softly. Sweetly. Then you’d take a breath, a deep one, tighten your grip around his waist and fall right back asleep.

He’d fall right back asleep with you.

“You doin’ okay?” The bartender asks, smiling at him again.

Bucky drops his eyes to the glass in his hands as he spins it slowly. She doesn’t look like you up close. He picks up his drink and finishes off the last drops before he slides it in her direction, “One more.”

She winks at him, “You got it.”

She’s flirting with you, Bucky. He used to not care when women were flirting with him. If he’s telling the absolute truth, he still doesn’t - he should. It’s been four weeks and two days after all.

She’s not you.

She kinda looks like you, smiles like you, but she’s not you.

He doesn’t want a similar version of you.

He wants you.

She slides the now full glass of whiskey towards him, Bucky catching it with just the tips of his fingers. He can feel her eyes on him as he lifts it to his lips and takes a slow sip before he nods slowly, staring at the glass. He slides his eyes towards the flirtatious bartender and smirks, “I’m Bucky.”

“Tamera.”

----------

It’s Friday night, so that means it’s sushi class night. Steve decided to come with you this time, he’s been trying to get Sam to try it for the longest time - figured, maybe Sam would feel a little more comfortable with it if Steve made it. You and Steve have always gotten along really well, which surprised you because, you know, he’s Steve Rogers; rigid and uptight. He’s not that uptight, Sam’s still working on the rigid thing, though.

The two of you have been having fun. It’s nice seeing Steve be not-so-good at something for a change. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but your hands are sticky and covered in rice, so you bounce off to the sink to wash them quickly. You pull out your iPhone, expecting to see a text from your sister, MJ, but find a notification from Apple News.

Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes,…

Your lips part as you read his name. You glance over your shoulder, you’re not really sure why, as if everyone’s eyes are going to be on you because you're reading up on your ex-boyfriend. You take a breath. You shouldn’t care what Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes is doing, but you want to know what Avengers bad boy Bucky Barnes is doing. God, you hope he’s not hurt.

Don’t look. It isn’t your business anymore. You turn on your heel, shoving the phone back into your pocket, but can’t seem to take a step away from the sink. You just - fuck, maybe he’s hurt. He’s probably done something stupid again, he just got that new arm not three months ago. Shuri is gonna kill him.

It’s still not your business, even if the fucker is hurt. You still can’t move. You place your hand on your back pocket, feeling your phone, debating with yourself. You shouldn’t fucking care - but you do. So you pull it out and tap on the notification, taking you to the original TMZ article. Your blood runs cold.

Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes, seen leaving an uptown bar with mystery woman

Your mouth goes dry as you read down the page. Your breath hitches in your throat when you get to the pictures. His fingers curled in hers as they move down the street. Smiles on their faces. Then his arm is over her shoulders. Then -

You blink back the sudden flood of tears furiously as your chin starts to tremble. He’s kissing her. He’s got her up against his apartment building, his hands cupping her face. Her eyes are closed and his head is tilted - his body is crushed up against hers - just like the two of you used to do. He used to pull you close, so tight into his body as the two of you would wind your way through the city. Then, right when you turned the corner onto his street, he’d whirl you around him, and push you up against the building. He’d push his hands up your shirt, pinching, grabbing, his lips crushed to yours.

Now he’s found someone else. He’s kissing someone else the exact same way he used to kiss you. You can’t help but read on, seeing the pictures of them leaving together in the morning - hand in hand again. It’s over. All the nights you’ve spent staring down at his name on your phone, trying to call him, wanting to call him… you should have called him. Maybe he wouldn’t be with her.

It’s over.

You and Bucky are really over.

“Hey,” you don’t even really hear Steve when he walks up to you, “Hey, you okay?”

He follows your eyes to the small screen in your hands and tips it towards him, clearing his throat as he skims the last few lines of the article, “Lets not - come on, let’s take a break, huh?”

He ushers you outside and immediately draws you into his chest, rubbing your back, resting his chin on the top of your head, “Oh, honey.” He sighs softly as you sob.

It’s really over.

----------

It’s Friday night. No, actually it’s Saturday morning; 2:32am. Bucky sits on the edge of his bed, his head hanging as he rubs his forehead with his hand. He picks his head up just high enough to glance over his shoulder at the sleeping woman behind him. Tamera. It’s the second night in a row that he’s had her and she’s still not you.

She doesn’t feel like you - her body, her mouth. She doesn’t sound like you, she doesn’t move like you… she’s not you. No matter how hard he tries to pretend that she is you; she’s not you. He blinks and hangs his head again as his thumb hovers over your name in his phone. He needs to hear your voice, especially now. He wasn’t… ready for this. He wasn’t ready the first time, but he forced himself and hated it. He forced himself again tonight and not only did he hate it, he hates himself.

He should have called you weeks ago.

He should have texted you and apologized and asked if he could come back because that’s all that he really wants; to just walk through your front door, back into your apartment and your shared life as the proud parents of a small plant. He should have called you weeks ago. If he had, he wouldn’t be here right now, with Tamera in his bed, pain in his heart, that nagging voice in his head.

Call her now. Tell her you’re sorry.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t feel bad right now. He did what every other person does, he moved on. He shouldn’t care about what you think anymore - but he does. He knows how you feel about these kinda things. You weren’t this kinda girl, the one who just goes home with some guy named Bucky after eye fucking him for half the night. Not that you’re a prude, not that you shame anyone, it just isn’t you - these random hook ups.

He liked that about you. That you were kind of old school. Reminded him of the good old days, back in the thirties. Innocent dates, sneaking little kisses so nobody would see, those little giggles that filled his ears when he pushed a little further every time he saw you. He’s always enjoyed a little chase. He enjoyed chasing you, and when he finally caught you, he still found himself fantasizing about you. Every damn day.

Even now. Even with someone else underneath him, he still thought about you - he had to, or else he couldn’t have…

He bites the inside of his lip before he lets out a deep sigh. Your name stares up at him from the soft lighting of his phone. He needs to hear your voice. He doesn’t want to be in this apartment, in this bed, with this woman. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, curled around your little, warm body, his fingers pressed into your flesh, your warm breath splashing over his face.

He swallows. His thumb starts to tremble as he holds it over your name.

Call her now. Tell her you’re sorry.

He closes his eyes, “Fuck.”

He cuts his eyes towards the nightstand, staring at it until it doesn’t even look like a nightstand anymore.

He throws his phone into the chair in the corner of the room.

He stands and moves into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before he flips on the water of the shower, turning it as hot as he can.

He’s gotta get that woman’s smell off of him.

----------

It’s been four months since that Friday night sushi class. You’re now a sushi rolling expert - which, you are pretty proud of. You got a promotion at work. You have a kitten. You and MJ have a Hawaiian vacation coming up over Christmas. Things are… brighter, to say the least.

There’s still moments. You’ll be at work, or waiting in line at the coffee shop and a brief thought will streak across your mind. I wonder what Bucky’s doing? You don’t think about it for long - not anymore. You’re finally starting to get to the point where you really don’t care. You made the right decision that night, asking him to leave. That life - his life - wasn’t one that you wanted to lead. You didn’t want to have to hide away in some upstate safe house every time some villain got wind of your romance.

You didn’t want to stay up all night long, worrying about him as he kicked and punched his way through aliens or robots or whatever the hell decided to come to earth that day. You don’t want to waste days waiting for him to drag his tired, beaten body out of bed after returning from a mission. That life wasn’t - and isn’t - for you. You made the right decision.

“Here you go, doll,” the barista says, smiling as he hands you a vanilla Frap.

Doll. You haven’t heard that in four months. You smile widely, “Thank you.”

You head back out onto the street, sipping on your coffee as you turn up the music to your airpods. The Cottage on the Beach, from the Atonement soundtrack. One of your favorite movies. It’s tragic, but beautiful - the movie, the soundtrack, and your life. You’re getting to the beautiful part, you’re sure of it.

You’re heading back to your apartment after getting lucky at work and having two of your afternoon meetings canceled. Instead of taking the train, you decided to walk - another way of keeping yourself busy. You turn down fifth avenue, also deciding to window shop on the way home, and slow your pace as you move past Saks, eyeing a gorgeous pair of pumps in the window. They would look great on your feet while dancing in Hawaii, that’s for sure.

You stop, pulling out your phone to take a picture to send to your sister, when a voice sounds behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You snap your eyes from your phone to the window in front of you, almost too afraid to turn. You take a breath, shifting your eyes around the glass window as if you aren’t exactly sure if you heard it or not, you are listening to music after all. Maybe you -

“Hey, can you hear me?”

You turn quickly - and there he is. Blue eyes, fluffy, short hair, stubble covering his cheeks and chin. The leather jacket that you loved so much on his broad torso. He’s slimmed down a bit, but he always did fluctuate, unlike Steve, which you always thought was kinda weird.

He smiles at you, a wide smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle on the sides, “Hey, I thought it was you. How are you?”

You nod quickly, “I’m um, I’m fine. Hi,” you laugh a little.

“You look… great,” he says, looking you up and down, “Really great.”

“Thank you,” you answer softly, tilting your head down as you tuck some of your hair behind your ear, “You.. you look nice too.”

He shrugs, tearing his eyes from yours to glance off across the street, “Ah, you know. I’ve lost a couple pounds.”

You nod again, “Yeah, I can tell.”

He snaps his eyes back to yours. You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, both of your minds racing, wanting to say so much.

I miss you.

I love you.

Please let me come home.

Please come back.

----------

Bucky blinks at you as you duck your head away from him again. Steve’s words play back in his mind from all those months ago. You didn’t see her that night, Bucky! She was crushed seeing those pictures. Crushed. He couldn’t get the word out of his head for weeks afterward. Crushed. You were crushed seeing those pictures.

He never wanted to hurt you. He should have known better. He shouldn’t have left the hotel with her. Fuck, he shouldn’t have went to the hotel bar in first place. He should have called you, like he wanted to. Maybe, the two of you could have avoided all of this.

Now that he has you here, he doesn’t want you to leave. It’s awkward between you. He watches as you shift nervously, not able to keep your eyes on him for long. Constantly pushing at your hair and then tugging at your blouse. It makes him sad. He doesn’t want you to be nervous around him - unsure of him. He still doesn’t want you to leave, though. He’ll deal with the awkwardness.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” His mouth moves before his brain can keep up with it.

He watches as you shift again nervously, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, “No, I -”

“Please?” He’s nearly begging, “Just,” the words drop away as he runs his hand through his hair, “So, we can talk?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about, Bucky.”

----------

You end up in the bar of the Marriott Hotel with him. He could always talk you into doing shit you didn’t want to do - because after a while, he always made you feel safe. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, so you just did what he asked you to do. He orders a bourbon, you get white wine. You both sit at the bar, facing straight, not looking at each other, your wine glass placed at your lips, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. He takes a drink and sits the glass down softly, bowing his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says simply, after a while.

You finally turn towards him, “For what?”

“For,” he shrugs, “I shouldn’t have - I don’t know. I’m just sorry, for everything.” I’m sorry for leaving you.

You look back down at your wine glass and your fingers, “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I should have asked you to stay.

“I could have been more discreet. Those fucking paps are everywhere, I gotta remember that.” Please forgive me.

You shrug a little, you should have known Steve would tell him, “It’s,” you dip your head, “It’s okay. We’re adults, we can… do whatever we want.” I forgive you.

It grows silent between the two of you. You’re both looking at each other now, eyes bouncing back and forth. His eyes then slip down to your lips and fixate on them for a few seconds before they move back up to your wide eyes. Then, suddenly, his large hand is on your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip.

His hand is so warm.

You blink as his hand caresses your face - gently. Just like he used to. He tilts his head a little as his lips part, his thumb still dancing over your bottom lip. His eyes still bounce, softly, between yours, reading you, just like he always could. His eyes dip again to your mouth, and his lips, they, they quiver - just slightly. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck and he’s pulling, pulling you into him.

You moan into his mouth almost as soon as his lips are on yours. It’s so familiar, his lips, his mouth, his tongue. For the first time in months, you finally feel like yourself. You lean into him, kissing him back, humming and moaning. It gets desperate - quickly. To the point where he’s standing, both of his hands cupping your face as he kisses you hard. Your hands slide around his waist to pull him closer as you inhale him.

He pulls you up on your feet and pecks your lips once, twice, three times. He grabs your hand and pulls your towards the front desk, lacing his fingers with yours as he asks for a room. Your heart pounds in your chest and ears as you rest your head against his back, shielding yourself from the clerk’s prying eyes.

Bucky digs in his pocket, grabbing his wallet and throwing his card down before scribbling his name on the receipt. The clerk slides the key cards in Bucky’s direction with a smile and drops his attention back to the small computer in front of him. He’s seen this too many times to care.

You keep your fingers twisted with Bucky’s as you wait for the elevator. Neither one of you look at each other as you stare at the illuminated numbers as they descend. The doors open as the soft ding sounds and you both step on, Bucky slamming his finger on the round number ten. Neither one of you say anything as the metal box carries you up into the hotel, slowing and then stopping at your floor.

You let Bucky guide you down the hall, stopping at room 1022. He presses the card against the reader and the door clicks, popping open slightly. Bucky pushes through, pulling you with him, only letting your hand go to close and lock the door behind you. You walk into the room, your eyes scanning. Your eyes land on the bed. It’s a big bed. It looks soft.

You inhale sharply when you feel Bucky’s chest crush against your back. His fingers slither around your waist as his lips press against the back of your neck. You close your eyes and push your hand up and into his hair as you let your body melt into his. You tilt your head towards the ceiling as he starts to sway the two of you back and forth slowly, his tongue sneaking out from behind his lips to lap at your warm, sensitive skin. His metal hand moves up into your shirt, inching along your skin until it cups your breasts firmly, making you moan, really moan for the first time.

You love that arm.

His digits push into your bra, rolling your nipple softly as his teeth sink into the crook of your neck. You jump, grunting deeply as your body tightens. God, it’s been so long.

His free hand snakes down to your jeans, popping the button and pushing down your zipper. It slithers in, his flesh sliding into your panties and between your slick folds. You jolt forward at the sensual touch, bent at your hips as his fingers start to massage your sex. Your mouth hangs open as you draw in ragged breaths, your hips pushing forward, anticipating his next stroke. He bends forward with you, groaning into your ear as he rubs your clit - quick - just how he knows to do.

He pushes his fingers inside of you and you push back up straight, reaching back to pull on his hair. He pumps them hard as he pinches your taut nipple, his breath hot and heavy against the side of your face. He pushes his hips into your behind, wanting you to feel him, feel how much he wants you - how much he’s missed you.

He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth and you whimper. The pain mixing with the pleasure his fingers bring. You don’t want his fingers any longer. You want him, all of him. You want to scream his name as he fucks you into the mattress, hour after hour. You want to drag your nails down his long, sinewy back. You want to feel his cock stretching you, spreading you, spearing you.

Bucky apparently wants the same. He could always read your mind, it seemed. He pulls his hands away from you to strip you down, tossing your clothing to the floor without a care. He pushes you onto the bed once you’re exposed and bare, flipping you onto your back by your ankle. He pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your calf and pushes his knees into the mattress as he starts to disrobe himself.

You sit up, wrapping your legs around his and bite down in your bottom lip as you send your eyes up to his. You place your hands on his hips, raking your fingers down his back as soon as his polka dotted shirt falls to the floor. You drop your eyes to his hands as his fingers start to fumble with the thick belt holding up his black jeans. You moan a little as you watch him, his skilled fingers moving slowly - - dropping the belt to the floor with a thud before popping the button and pushing down the zipper.

You hiss when his jeans fall. Dark hair peeks out over the band of his Hugo Boss boxer briefs and you can’t resist any longer. You lean in and press your plump lips to his warm skin, placing soft kisses along his sculpted stomach, breathing in his scent. He lets out a deep breath as his metal fingers skim over your shoulder and cup your chin softly. He pushes his index finger into your chin, pushing your head up so the two of you can link eyes once more. Your lips part as you stare up into his stormy eyes - blinking only when his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

He kisses you quickly, holding your chin all the while. He pulls away, but not far, his lips still brushing the tip of your nose as his eyes move around your face. He always did like to look at you. He cups the back of your head and lays you onto the mattress, spreading your legs with his knees. You hold onto his shoulders as you fold your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together as you feel him start to press at your opening.

When he pushes, and you start to spread for him, you slam your eyes closed and dig your nails into his thick flesh. You whimper as he sinks into you slowly, his weight pushing you into the mattress. Once you’ve swallowed him - his hips are flush to yours - you wiggle your hips and push your heels into the small of his back, wanting him deeper, even though it isn’t possible.

Agonizingly slow, he pulls out of you - his mouth dropping open as he watches. You wrap your hands around his forearms as he withdraws, and then plunges back in with a little force. You push upward with the thrust, releasing an airy grunt as he fills you back up. He kisses you again, hard, desperate, as he starts to fuck into you, his hips pushing and pulling with a rhythm all their own.

You’ve always loved the way Bucky fucks you. It was instant, from the first time that the two of you were together, he just knew you; knew what you wanted, what you liked. It’s kind of dirty, the way he fucks you. Even when he’s being sweet, and gentle, it’s still a little obscene - crude. The darkness in him comes out when he fucks you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s ruined you for other men.

Your hips dig into the mattress with each of his deep thrusts. You’re loud, grunting and mewling within minutes - he feels so good. He always feels so fucking good. You keep your eyes on him as he watches you, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your mouth, then down to your bouncing tits. He’s always loved them too. He cups your left breast with his metal hand, squeezing gently as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He leans down and sucks your tit into his mouth, swirling his tongue over your hard nipple.

He bites down and your hips jerk into his as you gasp, pushing him deeper. You yelp as the pain and the pleasure rip through you, making your toes curl and your fingers jab into him even harder.

“God,” you rasp, your face twisting with lust as he drills into you.

You shut your eyes again and you get a flash of her. His arm thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his body. The smiles on their faces. His body crushed up against hers in front of his apartment building. You fling your eyes open, gasping a little as your mind starts to race. Don’t do this. Not now. Please. Just -

He probably fucked her just like this. Just how he’s fucking you right now. Your scent is gone from his sheets, his pillows, replaced by hers. You focus in on the ceiling as the intrusive thoughts pull you out of the moment.

Your lips part.

Your chin trembles.

----------

Bucky’s missed you. Your body, your noises, these perfect, pretty tits. He’s dreamt about this since the night he left your apartment - having you again. Making you scream. He pulls your breast into his mouth, sucking on you just how you like. He bites down and you buck into his cock, driving him deeper into your pussy and he shudders. You feel so goddamn good around him.

“God,” you rasp, your full voice hitting his eardrum just right, drawing a groan out of him.

He releases your nipple with a smack, leaning back up and resting his weight onto his palms that press into the mattress on either side of you. He feels your tight grip loosen, just a tad, your shrieks get quiet and then disappear all together. He sends his eyes back up to yours and his hips halt instantly.

You’re crying. Your small hands cover your face as your body is wracked with emotion. All of the air is sucked right out of the room. What’s worse, is that he doesn’t even have to ask why. He just knows. Bucky exhales as his own face twists at the sight. He pries at your hands, trying to pull them away from your face, “Baby,” he whispers, “Don’t. Don’t cry. Please, baby.”

He watches as you turn away from him, pressing your face into the pillow, still trying to hide, “Baby,” he tries again, his voice shaking, “Look at me.”

He pushes your head to face him, his own emotion choking up in his throat. He shakes his head, his breath getting shaky, his eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry.” He whispers as his own tears start to fall, “I’m so sorry.”

He drops his forehead to yours and kisses you hard, “Baby, I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m sorry, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

I never meant to hurt you. Just say it. I never meant to hurt you, I love you.

Say it, Bucky.

Just say it.

“Stay with me, baby,” he whispers, wiping away the tears that streak down your cheeks, “Stay with me, stay here. Please.”

I love you.

Say it!

----------

Bucky kisses you hard, “Baby, I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m sorry, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

You can’t help it. It’s just different now. He’s not - yours anymore. You have to share him with her. Your face is wet with your tears and his, your body crushed to his body as he holds you tight - so tight. He begs you not to cry, not to think about it, to stay with him, here, in this moment. You want to. You just want to feel good again. You want to feel like yourself because God knows this has been the most alien four months of your life.

You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, moaning into him as the sobs still wrack your body. You just want to feel good. You want to stay. I want to stay. You rock your hips into his, trying to coax him to move again. He does. He pushes his hips into yours as he kisses you again, his lips plump and salty and soft from the tears. You wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes as he nuzzles into the side of your face, still murmuring his apologies.

His hips push harder and faster, like he wants to fuck the sad right out of you - and right out of himself. He keeps his face buried in your neck, his hands underneath you as he cries and you cry, your dull orgasm starting to gain steam. You push your fingers into his back as his muscles tense and flex. You cup his ass, squeezing his flesh as it bounces with his hips.

You feel his teeth on your skin, nipping and nibbling before he rests his forehead to yours again. His mouth hangs open, his hot breath washes over your face as his lips tremble softly. You slam your eyes closed and just give in - into him, into the emotions, into the sadness, into the moment.

You squeeze your legs around him and let it consume you. You come, hard, your body shaking, your toes curling, your breath hitching as it courses through your veins. You cry out, your wails filling the room as Bucky continues to slam into you until he too succumbs to the pressure. You feel his cock throbbing inside of you, jumping with each spurt of cum. He fills you up, up to the brim, stuffing you full of his seed.

He collapses on top of you, his sweaty skin sticking to yours. You run your fingers along his spine as his breathing calms and his body starts to relax. He stays tucked inside of you, his cock warm and still stiff. This was always your favorite part. Sure, the fuck was good, but this is what you crave. The closeness. The stillness of him. His skin pressed against yours, his weight holding you to the bed. The feeling of his heart beating against you.

I love you.

Say it.

----------

You didn’t say it.

You should have, but you didn’t.

You did say that you would meet him for dinner, so that the two of you could talk, really talk this time. You’re nervous, but you’re here. Despite not understanding why you wanted to come, MJ helped you get dressed, soothed your nerves. She told you to call her if you need her - I owe that metal armed asshole a punch in the mouth.

You tap your fingers against the table, biting the inside of your cheek, glancing around the restaurant as you wait. Your foot dances underneath the table with nerves. Why are you so nervous? You know him, you love him. You just need to say it. Just fucking say it and this will all be over. There’s no need to keep living like this when you don’t have to. You want him, you need him. You just need to tell him.

You nibble on a piece of bread. You check your phone again. He was supposed to be here. Twenty minutes ago, Bucky was supposed to be here. You wring your hands together harshly, pushing your thumb into your left palm over and over again. Your eyes dart around the restaurant and focus on the door.

He’ll be here. He’s just… running late, is all. He’ll - he’ll be here.

You check your phone again. No call. No text. He was supposed to be here, forty minutes ago. You close your eyes and rub your forehead, trying to push back the emotion that threatens to spill out. It didn’t mean anything. You whimper as the thoughts start to race around your head. Last week meant nothing to him - he used you. No. No, that’s - that’s not the Bucky you know. He wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t, he’s just - Fury kept him late today, is all. He’s coming.

He is.

You push out into the night an hour and twenty seven minutes later, tears rolling down your face as you bring your phone to your ear, “MJ,” you sob, “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

“What?” You barely hear her, “What did he do? Where are you?”

“He doesn’t love me anymore.” You openly cry, “He never showed up. He doesn’t love me anymore, MJ.”

----------

“Bucky!” Steve shouts angrily, pushing through the front door of his friends apartment, your cries and MJ’s seething voice still ringing in his ears, “Goddamn it, what in the fuck do you think you’re -”

He stops in his tracks. His eyes skirt around the empty apartment as he stands perfectly still. Steve snaps his eyes towards the floor when a soft light illuminates from it. He moves towards it, bending to pick up Bucky’s phone. Five missed calls, two voicemails, one text message, all from you.

I fucking hate you. Don’t ever come near me again.

Steve’s eyes scan your message as his lips part. He glances towards the bathroom. The light is still on. He squints as he picks up on the sound of the water from the sink still running. His eyes fall on Bucky’s wallet that still sits on the nightstand before he eyes the phone in his hands again.

He turns on his heel and rushes out of the apartment, taking the stairs two by two, “Sam,” he says as soon as the sleepy man answers the phone, “Something isn’t right.”

----------

Bucky slams his head back in the cold, metal chair that he’s strapped down to. He pushes his arms against the clamps that hold him in place, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t break free.

“Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.”

“Please don’t.” Bucky begs, tilting his head towards the ceiling, “Please don’t do this.”

“Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.”

Bucky screams as he starts to struggle, twisting and turning, bucking and fighting against the clamps around his wrists and stomach. He’s not strong enough. He can’t break them, “Please!” he screams, “Please don’t! Please!”

“Benign. Homecoming. One.”

He starts to sob. He slams his eyes closed as he tries to remember your face. Your smile. Your smell. Your soft skin against his. He should have told you he loved you. He should have begged you to let him come home. He should have never left you.

“I love you.” He says aloud, “I love you baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cries, the tears streaking down his cheeks, “Please don’t hate me.”

I love you!

“Freight car.”

Bucky blinks.

Tears still roll down his cheeks, but he isn’t actively crying anymore. He hears a pair of boots walking slowly around him, the soft thwump of a book closing as the mysterious man approaches his side.

“Soldat?”

“Я готов отвечить.”

Ready to comply.

#SSB2020 #buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #you x bucky #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #black reader #bucky barnes x black reader #bucky #avintagekiss24

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curioussubjects · 4 years

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come be a season 12 truther with me; or what if dean and cas got together offscreen

Originally, I wrote this post to celebrate “Galaxy Brain” airing as Berens & Glynn gave us “The Future.” It’s been a while since that episode aired, and some things have changed about this meta. As such, there are multiple versions of this post floating around, so make sure to go back to the source for the most up to date version. For all intents and purposes, this post functions as a meta manifesto not unlike shipping manifestos from days of LJ past. In keeping with that tradition, this post is a close reading of Dabb Era Destiel in which I argue that by using narrative gaps, queer coding, and romance tropes, Dean and Cas are shown to be in an established relationship. Although beyond the scope of this post, it’s worth pointing out that keeping Destiel mostly off screen was a way for the creatives to bypass network censorship while still remaining true to the characters.

This post is divided into three sections. Section I focuses on giving an overview of why earlier seasons of Supernatural aren’t as compelling as season 12 as a turning point for Dean and Cas’s relationship. That said, special consideration is given to 09.06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” as a potential rest stop in our journey due to it’s significantly placed narrative gap as well as themes in the episode. However, this post isn’t going to examine season 9 trutherism in depth, though it does coexist with and allow for it. Section II analyses season 12 and proposes a timeline and justification for the shifting Destiel dynamic. Finally, Section III will offer an analysis of how Dean and Cas’s relationship has changed dramatically from previous seasons in a way that is most like the shift from a “will they or won’t they” pairing to an established one.

Before I move to Section I, I’d like to note something this post takes for granted: Dean and Cas are the main romantic subplot of Supernatural, and, in fact, their relationship is elevated to main plot for both characters in season 15. This post won’t argue about the canonicity of Dean and Cas’s feelings for each other, therefore, and so won’t spend time looking at many Destiel defining moments. I’d also like to make clear that this post also takes for granted that Destiel is being intentionally developed by the writers starting with Carver’s Era, and more so in Dabb’s.

I. Why Seasons 4 through 11 May Not be It

The tl;dr. here is that while there are many moments throughout these seasons that Dean and Cas could potentially get together, none of those moments are ideal for a bunch of reasons that can be summed up as really bad timing. I also think the narrative is actively pushing them towards a moment that works. We get plenty of stepping stones, especially once we hit seasons 8 through 11 (and 11 most of all).

Seasons 4 & 5:

I know there’s been a lot of get together fics over the years set in this time period, but I just don’t see it. Do I see them being intrigued and drawn to each other? Yes. Do I think either Cas or Dean would act on it? Nope. I’m not arguing anything re: Dean’s feelings, but with everything going at the time I find it hard to believe he’d pursue anything with his angel friend. Most importantly here, though, is that during this time Cas was still very alien and other. There was too much angel in him, and while he obviously came to care about Dean (and Sam) very much, I just can’t see him navigating the realm of human relationships. That said, seeing human!Cas in “The End” is the first we see of potential developments for how Cas could behave without his angelness interfering. Being human changes Cas a lot, beyond even his experience existing among humans, though that of course matters too. This development will be important later /wink.

Seasons 6 & 7:

Before anything else let me just recognize that if we could see some sexual tension in seasons 4 & 5, these two seasons come with our first taste of romantic tension. The pining! Also note the difference between season 4 Cas and season 6 Cas in terms of behaviour. He is much less the angel we saw in that barn in “Lazarus Rising.” In season 6, we have a Cas making misguided decisions guided entirely by his emotions – namely, not wanting to involve Dean with the war in heaven – which is peak human, honestly. Put a pin on how sad Dean is in both seasons with Cas’s absence. Finally, put a pin on this being our first moment of Cas doing things on his own to spare Dean and it not ending well (soulless!Sam, Cas “dying” after Leviathan) because this is *the* hurdle in their relationship (along with Dean’s lashing out and self-worth issues). With all this said, the marked distance between Dean and Cas in these seasons negates the possibility of them entering into any kind of relationship. Much like seasons 4 and 5, there’s too much going on.

Season 8:

Ah, yes, the summer of purgatory. If you thought we had pining before…! I think we’re all very clear on season 8 being a turning point for the show, not only because new showrunner, but we also get the bunker. TFW now has an HQ, which pretty soon becomes home. Yes, Baby will always be home, but the bunker becomes the *unmovable* safe haven that Baby couldn’t be. The bunker is a place to coalesce, and for all the amazing things Baby is, she is not that. The acquisition of the bunker marks a shift in the psychology of the show: with the stable home space we can start to imagine domesticity, a place to come home to, the stuff of ordinary living. Most of all, the bunker is emblematic of security, of safety –keep this in mind, as we go forward.

This season also continues to see Cas go down the path of independently solving his problems instead of asking for help from Sam and Dean (his family in a way heaven never was) – note that the better together issue is at play in different ways with Sam and Dean also, but I digress. I also want to point out disastrous instance #2 of Cas’s insistence on figuring it out on his own: he loses his grace, and the angels fall. As for Dean, season 8’s focus for him has much to do with Sam, and them coming face to face with their issues with codependency, which hit catastrophic levels with the gates of hell and Gadreel plots.

So despite all the deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much distance between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 plus slaughtering angels plus unleashing Leviathan. We do see Dean being more emotionally open with Cas and continue to voicing his wish that Cas would just stay with him and Sam, and let them help. It’s clear as day how much Dean cares. The timing is still bad, though.

Before moving on to next season, let’s take a moment to appreciate that this is the season Dean admits being kinda done with one night stands because “always with the adios.” Remember the bunker as a sign of stability? Yeah. I wouldn’t say Dean is craving a relationship, exactly, but I think we can see that he does want something more (ahem also I’m nodding to Cas refusing to stay put just cause).

Seasons 9 & 10:

The most important thing to happen between this two seasons is Cas’s stint as a human for an extended period of time. There’s been plenty of spec and meta written over the years about the effects of being human on Cas’s grace (a proto-soul now maybe?). What we can say for sure, regardless, is that Cas is much more humanized once he becomes an angel again. The understanding he gets from being human doesn’t go away once he regains his angel powers. You’ll notice that while we still see some of season 4’s characterization, Cas is not the same as he was – he is alien to angels now and is more intelligible to humans. Additionally, in an interesting reversal from previous seasons, we now get to see the depth of Cas’s feelings for Dean (thanks, Metatron) as well as seeing him be more open emotionally, while Dean does most of the pushing away (first because of Gadreel, then because of the Mark of Cain). In short, the timing is still bad as Dean and Cas are largely kept apart both physically and emotionally.

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait

This episode is my white whale, friends. While I’ve come to fully subscribe to the idea that something did happen between Dean and Cas during the fanfic gap, I don’t actually think it’s feasible that it marked the start of a relationship -- be it sexual or romantic. My reasoning here is quite simple: the timing is bad. Were it not for external events (Cas regaining his Grace and Dean taking on the MoC), the course would have likely differed. Furthermore, Dean’s guilt over making Cas leave the bunker as well as Cas’s own hurt and self-loathing pose a significant and as yet insurmountable obstacle, which is easily seen with how Dean and Cas’s character trajectories go separate ways.

YMMV on what exactly happened between them in that Motel, but something definitely did. Perhaps one day I’ll have a proper s9 trutherism post to link to here for more details (likely won’t be written by me, though).

10.16 Paint It Black

From the point Dean gets the MoC until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible due to distancing, to say the least. Again, yes, the fic is really good, but alas. One of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. One, it’s a rare bit of explicit emotional honesty from Dean, and two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the Thing™ between them, it’s still uncharted waters. It’s scary, and murky, and they’re unsure how to navigated it or if they should even try. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6. Anyway, he’s the full confession:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. […] Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. […] Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Can I just say, first, that this confession keeps me up at night because we never actually see anything done with it explicitly? I mean, obviously, I think we do in fact see the effects of this confession in the show, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this behemoth, but still, like. Damn. Ok, so, remember when I brought up that thing in season 7 about Dean being kinda done with hook-ups? Here’s where that led us. We’re seeing a Dean here who wants more than what he has convinced himself he gets to have. He wants more than dying bloody. And when he talks about wanting to experience people and feelings differently, well, that says a lot not just on the queer coding front or the romantic front. I mean, jfc, Dean is accepting the idea that he can have more in life than just hunt until he drops, and he’s specifically talking about experiences at the interpersonal level.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more and maybe he can make himself be open to that (!!!), which all culminates in season 11, so…

Season 11:

The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Lucifer (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems: Cas checks out with Lucifer because he thinks it’s the only way he can help, Dean is caught up in the turmoil of Amara, the emblem of absence and avoidance of struggle. We do get something like an affirmation from the two of them to each other via Dean calling Cas his brother (and I want y’all to consider the historical queering of that statement, and Cas’s “I could go with you.” It feels like we’re headed to them being on the same page. By the end of the season, though, it feels like we’re getting a clean slate: Mary is back, nobody died, no end-of-the-world in sight, no interpersonal crisis. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. We’re gearing up for something, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What this season does that is super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible.

11.04 Baby

Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? That conversation between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development regarding the issues Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That’s awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don’t … Ever want something more? DEAN: I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But … Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

We wouldn’t be talking about this stuff all these years after Sam and Dean had a serious relationship if it wasn’t important, right? Also who else do we meet this season? That’s right! Eileen! And doesn’t that hit different with season 15 hindsight? And who does Dean have that understands the life? Whose stories have been intricately connected to his? Right now, this is all conjecture. A pipe dream Sam is revisiting, and Dean is skeptical about. Except, well. Look at what we get in “Into the Mystic” and “The Chitters.”

11.11 Into The Mystic

I’m bringing up this episode as a cross reference to “Paint It Black” as well as to complement the talk from “Baby,” and to show, again, that, for all the closeness between Dean and Cas, there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. There’s still truths they haven’t told each other. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin’…If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody’s pining for somebody else. […] Oh, don’t try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters

And here we see some validation to Sam’s imagining of a possible future with someone else. We actually see hunters who not only are married, but they both make it out alive. Jesse and Cesar get their happy ending. They make the dream come true. And the reality of it important not just for Dean to see, but Sam too.

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too, that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13.

Alright, now, having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in season 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point, in hindsight, after getting smacked by the domesticity of seasons 13 and 14.

II. Why Season 12

[Out of date section. Update coming soon when spoons. After significant debate, I’ve altered the definitive start of Dean and Cas’s friend-with-benefits-with-mutual-pining relationship to between 12.02 and 12.03. I briefly explained why here, and yes it’s a shitpost--still true tho.]

Finally, the promise land, y’all. Getting right to it: what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. That is, until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker and with the exception of seasons 13 and 14, it’s one of the first times we get to see how Cas might actually fit into the bunker-as-home. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. What we also see this season is Cas trying to prove he is worthy of this family, his family. He’s not fighting for heaven or to right some grievous wrong (a la s8). No, this season he’s fighting to spare the Winchester, to bring them a win. To bring Dean a win. The major disconnect is that Dean (and Sam & Mary) already sees Cas that way, he doesn’t think Cas has anything to prove. And just maybe, Cas starts believing that too – or, at least, believing it enough.

12.10 Lily Sunders Has Some Regrets

This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim).

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it. Oh, and, of course, let’s not forget to point to Dean’s face when Cas says that “I love you,” and how terrified he is that Cas is dying. Might make one rethink some things, hm?

12.19 The Future

This episode is simply hella suspicious, and all the kudos to Berens and Glynn for writing it. It’ll haunt me forever. Consider watching it again and just questioning everything. So. Weird things:

1. Dean’s reaction to Cas no getting in touch as opposed to Sam’s. Dean is pissed, which is Dean-speak for worried out of his mind. Sam is very worried, too, and puzzled, but he’s mostly expressing his relief that Cas is back. But Cas has gone awol before, but this time Dean is much more worked up about it; Sam takes note of this, too. Now, let’s imagine that maybe the events of 12.12 led to something happening between Dean and Cas. Then Cas decided to leave to find a lead on Kelly, but eventually Cas decides to work with Heaven and goes radio silent. For days. Having taken a chance, and something having happened between them, how would Dean react to Cas just going poof and not contacting him – despite Dean having called Cas multiple times.

2. Cas knows about the Colt. Ok, nothing off there. But when he goes to Dean’s room to talk, right after Dean leaves we see Cas looking around briefly. Like he know Dean would keep it in there. Maybe Cas had looked other places already. Who knows. What we do know is that eventually he does find the Colt not only in Dean’s room, but under Dean’s pillow. Sam didn’t even know the Colt wasn’t in the safe. So how did Cas know?

3.“He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But can you see Cas actually doing that if they hadn’t gone there previously? For Dean not to suspect anything and go with it? There’s plenty of plausible deniability here, but the gaps in time in the narrative make me question what is there in those spaces. The scene where Cas tried to give Dean the mixtape back doesn’t read like “playing,” so it’s about a different interaction. Hm. Hmmm.

4. Dean and Cas’s brief conversation in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together – because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth, but also ow.

5.And most importantly: When did Dean give Cas that mixtape??? How did that happen?

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him – Dean is clearly shook by it – Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) – Cas goes awol - Dean acts like he got ghosted by his new bf -?????- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow – "He went into my room and he played me."

What am I supposed to do with that, hm? Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But YMMV, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication.

III. Seasons 13 through 15 As Established Relationship

Regardless of what happened in season 12, exactly, I can’t shake the feeling that something did happen, and something did change. My reasoning here is actually really simple: in comparison to previous seasons, Dean and Cas’s dynamic shifts significantly come season 13. I know some folks have been disappointed with some of season 13 and then season 14 for having dialed back on the destiel side of things. And, hey, maybe there’s truth to that in terms of backstage stuff, but I also want to point out that...well, the dialing back isn’t quite dialing back is it? Let’s look at 13 a little more closely:

Season 13:

So I said the deancas dynamic changed, right? I also think that change caught us unaware because the pivotal turning point that would cue us in never happened on screen as well as being subsumed by Cas’s death and Jack’s birth. But if I ask you about deancas in season 13 what would come to mind? Grief arc? Brokebacknatural? How domestic Dean and Cas are? There’s just something easy about their relationship after Cas returns from the Empty. The tension we’d grown so familiar with over the years is gone. Actually, it feels like we skipped the getting together bit of their relationship and went straight to established relationship and parenting. Some of the most peak married deancas moments we see circulating? Season 13, (and 12.10). It’s a lot, and it’s different, and it’s amazing.

13.01-13.05

Dean’s grief mini-arc. He was acting like a widower. Here’s me vaguely gesturing towards the mapping of Jonh, Mary, Dean, and Sam onto Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack. And the reunion? I can’t help but be giddy at the song choice: “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying.

13.06 Tombstone & 13.16 Scoobynatural

I’m not going at length about these episodes, I just want to point out that they reveal that Dean and Cas have a whole thing going on off screen: they watch movies together, Cas knows about Dean being an angry sleeper, Cas seems to have been aware of the Dean-cave before Sam was. It’s little things like this that are examples of the narrative gaps surrounding Dean and Cas that have cropped up over the years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder what else could be hiding there. And when did the movie nights alluded in “Tombstone” happen? Maybe in season 12 when Cas in hanging around the bunker? The same period when Dean and Cas seem to be coalescing into something safer and more stable? Something that we never see come to a head because plot happens and Cas dies? Something that is immediately taken back up once Cas is alive again?

Season 14:

Overall, this season is more of what we got during 13, but it had two high notes I wanted to single out before ending this already too long post.

14.15 Peace of Mind

Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t couple-y as hell.

14.18-14.20

Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established, and unaddressed, rift between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here: he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? What if Cas died again? And why should Cas put up with Dean’s behavior without knowing the cause? How can any relationship work this way? But notice how caught in the middle Sam was during all this. Notice how Jack is running off and acting out. The whole family is falling apart. Divorce arc, indeed.

Season 15:

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will-they-or-won’t-they because they already have. We’re are watching a getting back together plot! The tension is, instead, will-they-or -won’t-they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. That’s the crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned twelve fucking episodes -- y’all, that’s half a season.

And technically? We’re not even done with yet because Cas never let Dean finish his prayer/confession in purgatory. What’s more, Cas hasn’t grappled with his role in the breakdown of their relationship, either: that he keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. We’re waiting to see what else Dean had to say, and what will happen when Cas’s deal with the Empty comes to light.

Finally, could we still have this plot without Dean and Cas having gotten together off screen? Sure, but I think the stakes are higher if they already did have something between them. If they actually have an established romantic relationship going on. Something real and tangible and as of yet much too fragile.

"...you asked what about all this is real. We are."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #spn meta #this thing is gargantuan yikes #anyway enjoy? let's chat #my writing #this thing is half meta half my adhd unleashed

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

if the world was ending | b.b.

summary: bucky knows he’s still in love with you a year after the two of you mutually agreed to break up. when one phone call spirals into one plan being made and then another, and then suddenly he’s staying at your place, he wonders if there may be a chance to try again.

WARNINGS: small angst, a whole lotta fluff, literally fluff, swearing, mentions of s e x but they don’t do the do pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: inspired by if the world was ending by jp saxe (ft. julia michaels). a kinda real take on how sometimes the timing just isn’t right for a relationship and how sometimes it is.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your voice echoes in his car and he nearly shivers at how gentle, sleepy, you sound. He wondered where you’d be: at a bar or at home, working overtime or eating out after a long night, on a date. The thought had made him tired, sad, but it didn’t tear a hole through him as it once would.

“Was there something you needed? Are you okay?” you ask, something shifting on your end and he stops at a red light, turning on his left turn light. He doesn’t know where he’s driving to or how long he’s going to just press on until he goes home. The clicking of the light fills his head. “I know the earthquake was a bit weird.”

“Earthquake?” He remembers it at the mere word. Him not even feeling it, not even realizing he was driving through one until Sam had called him from the office asking if he was okay. “There was an earthquake, yeah. I’m fine. Didn’t even know it happened until after it happened.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic?”

He laughs, softly, because you still know him so well. “Yeah. Got trapped in the office.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You’re never fucking here! It’s like I’m dating a ghost and I don’t know if it’s because I’m boring you or if you just don’t love me anymore. Your voice, angry, twisted with grief and frustration, rattles in his skull as he clears his throat. The light switches green and he turns, driving until he spots an off ramp he knows leads to the highway

“Yeah.” It comes out tight and choked.

Of course I do. I love you, I just—

Just what?

“Yeah,” you say for lack of anything else. There is nothing but silence, but the sound of your gentle breathing and the sound of commercials running.

“Did you fall asleep watching TV again?” he teases, his throat easing up a bit as you chuckle with a slight sigh.

“Yeah.” You sound like you’re smiling. Bucky hopes you are. “Just staying up late.” Because I’m still used to waiting up for you, the hopeful voice in his head adds quietly. “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a few months.”

Because I just figured out how not to text you when every little thing happens.

“I just thought of you,” he says, “after the earthquake happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Your end of the line falls silent and he hides his sigh. He knew it was a mistake. “I thought of you, too.” Your voice is hushed, tender, still full of a love both of you agreed wasn’t meant to be. The thought has always made Bucky torn with sorrow, shackled with guilt and regret. He doesn’t know if they are simply not strong enough to fight for their love or if their love just wasn’t meant to be so strong.

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that he is still in love with you—he always will be.

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. “I still care about you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” You reply so instantaneously that he is convinced and he finds himself driving down familiar roads. His feet ache and he’s exhausted, but he keeps going. He doesn’t want to go home. “I care about you, too.”

You were my best friend.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“I’m okay. Single, if that’s what you really want to know,” you confess openly and his eyebrows rise. You don’t sound disappointed or angry about it, but he wonders if you still love him like he adores you. “But, yeah. Work is okay.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Alpine?”

Bucky chuckles at the thought of the white cat back home. He’d been the one thing they truly fought over when they broke up, and he knows his cat misses you more than he does sometimes, if the persistent clawing in the middle of the night is anything to go by. He’s taken to shutting the windows to prevent his stupid cat from trying to make his way back to you, for his own sanity and Alpine’s safety.

“He misses you.”

“Well, you know he’s welcome to visit any time,” you point out. You let out a heavy breath and Bucky thinks maybe you’ve laid down or sat up, but he wonders what the apartment they used to share together looks like now. You always rearrange it however you see fit. It’s one of the most frustrating things about you but Bucky could never bare to tell you to stop.

It kept their life together ever flowing, different despite living in the same place.

He pulls over at a gas station when he notices the light flicker on.

“You know if the world was actually ending, I’d drop everything for you,” he says to ease the silence but it doesn’t. Instead, it only prolongs it and he sighs, eyes closing. “I don’t say it to confuse you or cause you pain. I just… wanted you to know. I—”

“I love you, too,” you murmur, voice dulcet and soft as feathers he can imagine you kissing the words into his skin. He tilts his head back until it rests against the headrest and he swallows. He doesn’t expect it to hurt but it does. Like a dull knife jabbing into his side. Not quite enough to bleed but enough to bruise. “I do. I don’t think I’ll ever not love you.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wished it’d work out.”

“Me too.”

Knock. Knock. Bucky opens his eyes to see a station attendant mouth ‘gas’ and he nods, rolling down the window.

“Fill up, thanks,” Bucky says, and the guy nods. He unhooks his phone from the bluetooth and shoves it between his ear and shoulder, fiddling with his wallet. “Do you want anything from the gas station? Did you eat?” He doesn’t mean to sound boyfriendly but it’s natural and he can count all the late nights he’d walk in with no question to buy you candy or chips. He hands his card to the attendant, taking hold of his phone again and switching off the engine.

“I didn’t. I fell asleep before I could,” you confess and he shakes his head to himself, looking out the window. It’s not too busy. The only other person is a dad filling up his gas while his kids are knocked out asleep in the back. “I don’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna go to McDonald’s anyway.”

“I could meet you there?” He winces at how much he immediately regrets his words and you let out a soft breath of surprise. “If you’re comfortable, I mean. It’s the one by the apartment, right?”

“Yeah.” You pause for a moment as if thinking it over. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He knows if you didn’t want to, you’d say so and he wonders how he lucked out. “Give me fifteen minutes?”

“No need to dress up,” he assures but you scoff as it sounds like you get up.

“I’m going to look like utter garbage next to you in your suit. The pillow is permanently marked into my face.”

“It’s casual and it’s McDonald’s, although that’s not really healthy.”

“Fine, you health nut. Always trying to make me make better food choices.” You sound only vaguely annoyed and he knows you’re just joking. Your voice echoes in a way that tells him you’re in the bathroom. God, the fact that he still remembers the sound of your voice in different rooms over the phone is a red flag for his heart. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“There’s a new place on the corner of your block.” He knows that because he drove past your apartment building too many times to count, trying to work up the nerve to confess he regrets everything: not spending enough time with you, being a shitty boyfriend, changing from the man you love. Not to get you to take him back, just to apologize.

You deserve better than his preoccupied, stubborn, uncaring, can’t-delegate-his-time-to-spend-time-with-the-love-of-his-life ass.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to try that place,” you comment, your voice distant. “It’s on the way to the bus stop and since my car broke down—”

“What? Your car broke down?”

“What?” Your voice picks up again as the guy hands back Bucky’s card and receipt. Bucky connects his phone to the bluetooth audio as the engine ignites once again. “Oh, yeah. A few days ago, it wouldn’t start. I’m lucky I wasn’t in the middle of the road.”

“I could take a look at it, doll,” he offers, pulling out of the gas station. He doesn’t even realize what he’s called you until the silence hits and he clears his throat. “You know, still know a few things about cars from back in the day.”

“Yeah. Bet that hot ass mechanic is still in there somewhere,” you reply. “I don’t want to trouble you. It’s late as it is.”

“It’s fine. Promise.” He wonders if it hurts as much for you to hear it as it is for him to even say the word. He can only repress the guilt poking at his sides. “We can eat and then I can take a look.”

Your sigh is heavy, tired, but he thinks there is just the slightest smile in your lips as you agree, “Okay. But you’re not paying for my food.”

“Old habits die hard, doll. I can’t say I can do that.”

“James—” A warning is edging into your tone and he laughs. As if he could ever be afraid of you, just seeing and imagining the adorable pout he always wanted to kiss off your face. This is a bad idea.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, “she called me James.”

“It’s your name, doofus.” Maybe you’re wrinkling your nose in annoyance, maybe your eyes are narrowed in an effort to hide the mirth seeping into your gaze. He doesn’t know, but a prickling sensation pokes into his limbs as he just imagines seeing you again. “I’ll see you in a bit? Drive safe.”

“I will. See you in ten, doll.”

He hangs up before you can comment on the pet name.

Walking into the bistro, he scans the place to find you sitting in the corner. The place is all wood and warm off-white paint and light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Plants are everywhere, and he quirks an eyebrow at the tiny succulent sitting on the hostess stand. The lighting is mostly dimmed down to provide a more intimate setting, and a few other people are sitting and chatting as he approaches you. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, painting you in orange-gold.

You perk up when you spot him, and he notices with a half-smile you sit on your hands like you do when you’re nervous, your knees bouncing as you release a hand to wave. He sets down his coat over the back of his chair, sitting down and he soaks in the sight of you. Although he said you didn’t need to dress up, you’ve put on a nice light-blue off-shoulder top and a pair of dark-washed jeans, swiped on a shiny layer of pink lipgloss he knows tastes like strawberries, and winged your eyes black with eyeliner.

In short, you’ve managed to go from beautiful to exquisite, and he doesn’t need the comparison. He’s been wowed before.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say lowly, the menu open before you. A waitress comes to offer him another and he looks up with a small thank you before his eyes fall to the words he can’t quite focus on. “You look nice, as usual.” A small grin catches his eye and he sucks in a breath when he’s met with your face again.

Every goddamn time, you take his breath away.

“And you’re…. you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. As usual.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lower your eyes to the menu, picking it up and tilting it so you can hide your face. He smiles to himself and looks at the salads.

Bucky can’t quite remember when the last time he laughed like this, full of life and light and easy. “Stop laughing!”

“Was that even English?”

“Bucky—”

“It was honestly like you had a stroke.”

“I honestly did.” “Do I need to call 911?”

“I hate you. I am trying to live my life here, Barnes.” You snort into your iced tea at the memory replaying in your head, covering your nose and lips with the side of your hand as you bite into the straw. You’ve been recounting the tale of how you nearly ripped Natasha’s hair out with your bare fists on pure accident when you both completely lost the ability to speak English and choked on air, causing Bucky to just lose it. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“I can’t. I have this face,” you retort sourly and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop the ache in his gut as the waitress places the small apple pie between them as well as two dessert forks. A scoop of ice cream is slowly melting on the flakey crust and he picks up a fork just as you do. “This was really nice, Buck. Hanging out with you again.”

“Yeah. We should do it more often,” he says, twirling the fork in his grasp and allowing you the first bite. You manage to catch ice cream and steaming apple pie on your fork and blow on it carefully before placing it in your mouth. You nearly sigh, your eyes closing and he digs in too. Warm syrup seeps into his blood first when he chews down on the apple filling before a sense of longing for home fills his soul. His stomach heats up from the inside and he sinks into his bones with relief. This is exactly what he needed. “We can be friends, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, I guess.” You smile for a moment before focusing on the pie again. “You know, maybe the distance was good. We got time to stand on our own two feet again.”

“Yeah.” He grins softly, almost sad but not quite. You look so blissful in the warm light of the restaurant, gentle music filling the air. The restaurant has gotten fuller since they’ve entered and sometimes Bucky wishes it was just them in this little slice of healthy heaven, but you’ve gotten remarkably brighter the more people have entered. “It took some guts to end this, I guess.”

“Five years,” you agree. “Think it might’ve been a waste of time when we knew we wanted different things?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad all the time. Maybe thirty percent of the time.”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Five. Five percent was terrible and it was all near the end,” you state and Bucky swallows, the sugar of the pie turning sickly sweet in his mouth. “You can’t sell yourself short, Buck. I know that you regret a lot of things, but we both weren’t perfect in this relationship.” You stab the crust half-heartedly. “And maybe we could’ve found common ground. I mean, we both wanted Alpine, didn’t we?”

“And two or three kids,” he intones dully. He remembers the nights they’d lay awake researching names for their hypothetical baby, staying up to god knows when to read all about colic and teething and how to even survive the trimesters without tearing off your hair. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I never could imagine a family with anyone before you,” you confess, bringing another bite of apple pie to your mouth. The ice cream melts between the prongs of the fork and he grimaces when it lands way too close to your sleeve. You wipe it away with your used napkin. “I never told you that before but I really could see us being happy, Buck.”

“So could I.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, prompting your lips to begin to pull into a small smile. Something sad lingers in your eyes, though, and he leans onto his fist, elbow digging into the table as he tries to think of a way of getting that smile back on your face. “We would’ve made cute babies.” You raise your eyebrows, a doubtful smile digging into your cheeks.

“That’s what I said to Nat after we broke up. She said she always prayed your genes were stronger than Steve’s.”

“They have blonde children.”

“They climb walls and pretend they’re masterclass spies.”

“Okay, fair enough. How is Nat?”

“How’s Steve?” you shoot back playfully. “She’s okay. Tired, but with the new baby and all, it’s a given.”

“I have no idea how Steve convinced her to give him another kid.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim, setting down your fork and holding your fingers to your temples. “Okay, so, Nat loves kids but she agreed to two for Steve when they got married and now they’re having number three and it’s like wow.” Bucky laughs at the wondrous light in your eyes. “Maybe the sex is that good.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes squinting as you pick up your fork again. “They probably talked about it a lot, debated, made slideshows. Knowing Steve, he wouldn’t do a thing out of Nat’s comfort zone even though he wants enough kids to build a Rogers basketball team.”

”Honestly, that would be so cool, but we both know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

“Steve is very happy wearing the skirt.”

“Yeah.” It falls to silence. They finish up their apple pie and you appear to be deep in thought so Bucky doesn’t say anything. Suddenly, you shake your head, chewing on the straw of your iced tea. “Was the sex good?”

Bucky’s eyes widen but you only stare him with honest eyes. You want to know like he didn’t turn into a mess when you kissed the spot underneath his jaw, like the simplest swipe of your fingers up his leg, the tiniest trail on his inner thigh, didn’t make him nothing more than melted putty in your hands.

“Fuck yes.” He sighs. He hasn’t had sex in a year. “Especially the last time after Wanda and Vis got married?”

“We didn’t make it past the kitchen. That was good.”

“Yeah.”

You hum as you think and Bucky pokes at the soggy flakes on the plate. You look at him and he looks at the plate and there’s a strange silence that comes over the table that has been wild with laughter for nearly an hour, maybe more. He leans back into his chair, his prong nudging an uneaten nibble of apple.

“Always thought we should’ve ended in bed,” he finally says half-heartedly. “That mattress took a hell of a beating whenever we argued.”

“Or, whenever you came home after a business trip. I’d miss you so much.” You grin and there’s something mentally exhausted in it. “I miss you so much but I think it figured out how to think about you without it hurting, too.”

“I’m glad.” He lets go of his fork and offers his hand, palm up. You reach forward and grab it, the heat of you sinking into his muscles. His fingers fold over your hand and squeeze. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “I miss you, too.”

“Will we want one check or two?” the waitress asks suddenly and their hands spring apart. Bucky fishes out his wallet, looking up at her.

“Two.”

“One.”

The two look at each other. You narrow your eyes, eyebrows furrowing together. “We agreed that we would split.”

“No, you said it and I disagreed and then you got distracted.” He grins triumphantly as your hands still in your bag and he pulls out his debit card.

“One and I’ll pay by card,” Bucky clarifies and she nods, slipping away to get it.

“Jerk,” you mutter crossly. You cross your arms underneath your breasts and lean back against your chair. “I can pay for my food just fine.”

“It’s not about whether you can or can’t. It’s about me wanting to pay for you,” he retorts.

He pays and the two get up, grabbing their jackets and leaving the bistro. They stop dead in their tracks underneath the small canopy when they notice the startling, thunderous rain.

“What the fuck,” you state flatly, staring at the puddles forming in the dents of the sidewalk and Bucky grimaces. The air isn’t frigid but it isn’t warm either, and he bundles his coat around himself as he tries to figure out how to stay dry. You’re tugging a scarf around your neck, your overcoat already settled well on your shoulders as you look at him. He’s got his own raincoat folded over his arm and he shivers against the thought of getting wet.

“I hope it’s not too presumptuous a thing to do to say I parked in the apartment’s visitor lot,” he begins and you raise your eyebrow. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe and maybe take a look at that car?”

“Oh, right. Too bad we could’ve used your car right about now.” You smile, pulling the hair out from underneath. “Okay. What’s our game plan?”

“Stay dry.”

Your smile turns wry. “Apt.”

“Here.” Unfolding his jacket, he holds it above his head. “Get under and then we run.”

“We are not gonna make it.”

“Gotta try. Get under.” You slip beneath his arm, your hands wrapping around his waist and he takes a deep breath to prepare himself. “Let’s go.” They sprint out into the pouring rain, their shoes slapping against the wet pavement as they run up the block.

“This isn’t working, Buck!” You twist as you try to keep pace but it’s clear that they’re both gonna get soaked. Bucky can’t quite run with you latched onto him so he throws his coat over you, tugging it tight around you before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you into his arms. As if on instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. Rain soaks into his skull and he squints as it drops into his eyes while you hold the jacket to your head and he tries to regulate his breathing. Your arm looped around his neck, you press against him in an effort to take off some of the weight in his arms.

Your heat soaks into his dress shirt and he pants into your ear, finally reaching the apartment lobby’s door. Dropping you in a dry spot beneath the glass shelter, he shakes his head and flicks off the wet while you unlock the doors.

“Are you good?” he asks, heat burning into his cheeks and you glance at him as you pull open the door. He rakes a hand through his hair, grabbing the jacket you’ve extended to him.

“I’m dry,” you affirm. “Come on. We’ve gotta get you dry.”

“You don’t have to.” Walking into the apartment lobby, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s been a year since he’s breathed in the filtered air that carries just a whiff of vanilla. Before, it was five years coming home to this. Rubbing his shoes on the carpet, he follows after you with a squeak and he drips all over the tiled floor while you get to the elevator. “Whew.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you point out, peering at him. “I’m not gonna complain if I get wet but you are and I’m not, so I’m gonna feel bad if I don’t at least get you a towel.”

“I didn’t want you to get wet,” he replies stubbornly. “We can just look at your car and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not bothering me, Buck.”

“Still.” The elevator doors open and they walk in. You swipe your fob before pressing the floor and lean against the rail while he drips onto the middle of the floor. Wiping at some of the droplets dotting his head, he turns to you and grins. “Bet it’s just like old times.”

“God, don’t remind me. I can’t believe you asked me out right before we fell on Splash Mountain.”

“It made it memorable and you said yes.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Steve lost fifteen dollars to Nat who I clearly remember saying if you can convince me to say yes to Splash Mountain you can get me to say yes to a date.” The elevator chime and the doors open. You walk out and the keys jingle against your fingers. “Do you want anything to drink? I can make some tea.”

“Nah.”

“You hate tea. Right. Well, how does hot chocolate sound?” You glance back at him with an impish curl to your mouth. He resists the want to grab your hand and instead does a small jog to catch up with you. You walk with your hands shoved in your pockets and he casts his gaze ahead of him, swallowing.

“Perfect.”

“That was actually a pretty good place, you know. I’m gonna need to go more often.”

“Yeah. The spaghetti was al dente and everything.” He hears you snort at his comment, reaching the door and opening it with a quick twist of your keys. He doesn’t know what to expect of the apartment he’s moved out of, but when you step in to reveal what used to be his home, he knows he shouldn’t have expected so much to change. The furniture has shifted, that much was a given, but that’s about it. It still smells like your strawberry shampoo everywhere and fresh laundry, and there’s still the dent on the wall from when Steve had tripped and spilled four bottles of beer he’d been carrying. The stains were removed. The dent Steve made with his head was not.

“Welcome home,” you joke weakly to him, your eyes flashing for a moment before you turn to head to the bathroom. He hangs up his coat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and you reappear with a towel before looking at the mess that is your ex-boyfriend. He’s soggy wet everywhere, even his socks. He thinks he might’ve stepped in a deep puddle based on the pant cuff absolutely plastered to his ankle.

You hand him the towel, eyes surveying the damage of his clothes and you chew on your lip. He runs his strands of hair through the towel, the heat of the memory of your body against his fighting off the chill nipping at his skin. You’ve always done that. Your hugs are warmer than any fire that he’s ever known and just the trail of your fingers has left a fire in its wake.

“I have the clothes you said I could keep,” you state lamely and he looks at you with surprise. He thought you’d have donated or burned it all by now. It was the hoodies and sweats he didn’t want anymore because they looked terrible on him and way better on you, but anything is better than being squelchy and soaked to the core. “I could get them out.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Alright. Help yourself to… well, anything. You know where it all is.” Peeling off his shirt, he heads to the sink where you keep plastic bags beneath the sink and throw it in, following it with his undershirt. Running the towel over his skin, he sighs. His heart doesn’t thunder nor does it beat wildly—that was young love—but it does feel fuller now that he’s here.

“Here.” You toss a red hoodie at him and a pair of black sweats follow after. He catches both with a grin, but it soon fades when he realizes what he holds and what you wear. You’ve changed into more comfortable clothes, wearing a matching hoodie to the one he holds in his hands.

Thing 1 and Thing 2. Right. Before we were even dating. Just best friends.

“Old time’s sake.”

“Always said you should keep it for the next guy to come along,” he says, pulling it over his head. Your eyes stay on his own. Definitely past young love. You don’t even look at his abs and something about how familiar it is makes him sigh into the fabric of the hoodie.

“Well, it never seemed right. This was when we were best friends, Buck,” you point out. He’s against the counter so it hides him changing out of his pants and into the sweats while you bustle around to gather what’s needed for hot chocolate. “I miss us.”

“Especially when we started sleeping together. Best sex ever,” he cheers and you laugh, getting a pot on the stove. Shuffling in beside you, he grabs some mugs and searches for the marshmallows while you get the milk to boiling.

As he brushes past, his hand rests on his back and trails across, and it’s not until you’re looking at him that he realizes.

“That was habit. I’m sorry.” He blinks. It’d been so natural to do, it’s strange to think it’s wrong now. “My bad.”

“It’s okay.” You grab a whisk and a measuring spoon, waiting patiently by the stovetop. “If I wasn’t comfortable with you touching me, I’d have reacted. You know that.”

Because of your shitty ex that isn’t me. Yeah, I know, he thinks. You’ve got a streak and I hate that I’m part of it.

“Yeah.” He pours marshmallows into the bottom of each mug. “Sorry I’ve gotta add to your string of terrible ex boyfriends.”

“Bucky!” The intensity of your voice makes him turn to you in surprise and you stand there, hands on your hips, face warped in an image of vexation. “If I hear you say you were a bad boyfriend one more time, I’ll smack you with a pan. You weren’t. If I have to spend the rest of my life, convincing you and reassuring you just so you’re brave enough to get back out there, then fine.”

“Doll, I—”

“I mean, seriously. You’re a fucking great boyfriend. You spent time with me but you gave me space, you listened, you always made sure I was comfortable and you’re so patient.” You turn back to your pot, dumping in some hot cocoa powder and whisking it a bit more angrily than he thinks you intend. “You do these things that seem small but mean the world to me, and you’re always looking out for me. I just… there is no way to say you were a bad boyfriend.” You look at him again and his eyes are wide as he regards you. “I don’t want you thinking just because we didn’t work out, no one ever will.”

He’s quiet as you gently pour each cup full of hot chocolate, the marshmallows floating to the top and he leans on the counter by his hand, looking down.

“It’s more than just the sex that I miss,” he says suddenly, and you look at him, expression easing.

“I know.”

“No, it’s… more. I miss your laugh, and the way you fold my clothes, and the tiny little post-it’s you leave on the fridge. I’m not asking you to take me back, I just… I’m still in love with you, you know? You’re the love of my life. It fucking sucks that apparently we aren’t meant to be.”

“I’m still in love with you, too,” you whisper, handing him a cup of burning heat.

“You ever think we could have a second chance?” he wonders, trying not to sound too hopeful. You smile behind your porcelain mug, just a tinge sad and sip before nodding. You set down the mug against the counter with a soft clatter and so does he, his finger tracing the rim of the white mug.

“I want to think so,” you murmur. Your eyes are focused on the small movement of his finger and he presses his lips together, trying to get something out. But then you turn away with your mug towards the couch and he follows after you. The TV switched on, you flip through the channels. “My car’s parked in my usual spot, if you actually do wanna take a look. I can’t force you to.”

“Maybe in the morning? You still take Saturdays off, right?”

“Yeah. Unless I get called in.” He walks up to you and sinks into the couch beside you. You lean on the armrest, knees tucked beneath your bum as he sits on the opposite end. They sip their drinks, a quiet falling over them. No one knows how to talk after the mention of a chance a relationship can come back to life once again. You pipe up when there’s a commercial break and Bucky blinks. “You know how you said you’d drop everything for me if the world was actually ending?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Sky could be falling but it wouldn’t matter, long as I knew you were safe and that I was holding you tight, protecting you how I could.” You unfurl from your ball, leaning forward to set down your cup of melted marshmallows and hot chocolate and he drains the rest of it down. It settles in his gut warmly, but it also squirms as you sit up and face him. He sets down the mug. “All I want to do is protect you. I know in the end, it was me who was hurting you and just… I never wanted that. I wouldn’t let anything touch you if I could help it.”

“It’s impossible not to hurt people you love. That’s part of it all, Buck. And I’m sure I hurt you too, and I’m sorry for that,” you say, reaching forward past the knees tucked your chest. He takes your offered hand. “But I’m glad that you’re always here. That I know you have my back. Just know that I have yours. You can count on me.”

He squeezes your fingers gently and you smile wider. His own lips pull into a tender smile as he gently pulls you into him and you go willingly, crawling across the couch to rest against him. His arm settles around your shoulders as he extends his legs over the cushions. You nestle yourself, your cheek on his chest and his thumb rubs circles along your arm, gentle pressure through the sleeve of your hoodie.

He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and there’s a moment when that is all there is—two lovers on a night in, too tired to sleep, unwilling to part for even a moment. You touch his cheek, and his thumb swipes over yours as his lips part.

“There’s no one else for me,” he whispers and your hand flattens against his cheek. He sits up and so do you, your other hand on his waist while his settle on your hips. There is something intense about his gaze, and by the twitch of your lip, he knows you’re bemused, but he’s serious.

“Bucky, there’s always going to be someone out there for you that isn’t me, no matter how much we both hate it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” It is simple for him. The simplest thing he knows. Your eyebrows furrow together and you open your mouth but he continues on, “I’ll love you even if the sun goes black and the moon splits into two. I’ll love you even if you get married, even if you don’t, even if you have kids, even if you have none. I’ll love you if you become a dog person or even a fish person, and I’ll love you even if you move away.” You shift in his lap, and he swallows, shaking his head at the incredulous feeling you bring to him. Love fills him up and drains him hollow, and you are everything.

“I’ll love you if I never see you again. I’ll love you if I see you once every six months, and I will love you if I am lucky enough to see you every day. I’ll love you when you’re old and grey and don’t remember who I am. I’ll love you enough to bring you back. This isn’t young love anymore. We danced around each other for three years before we got together—I’m past the honeymoon phase. This is fucking real for me. When I say there is no one else, I mean that I will never love anyone like how I love you. And I’m fine with that, as long as you’re happy.”

A beat. Bucky can hear his heart in his chest, slow and beating. He is sure of this and your eyes scan him, searching for lies. There are none.

“The hot chocolate inspired this?” you question teasingly, but your voice trembles, soft as feathers and he wonders if it is the same emotion that stitched his heart and lights it on fire. He is dynamite dormant, waiting for a spark.

“Everything about this night did,” he murmurs. Your thumb swipes at his lip, a gentle thing and he smiles. His own gaze stays on your eyes and he remembers a time when he’d do anything to kiss you. Now all he wants is your smile.

“I don’t know if I love you as much as you love me,” you begin quietly, your words tasting like chocolate and sugar against his skin. He chuckles. “But I do love you a whole damn lot.”

“Never one for words, huh.”

“I prefer action,” you agree. Their noses brush and his lungs hitch as you close your eyes. He does too, the presence of you nearly overwhelming. His every nerve tingles and his hand on your hip tightens as your lips gently meet his. He doesn’t know anything but the familiarity of you against him, the gentle tug of your fingers in his hair, the blissful quiet that fills his head as his chest explodes. He kisses you back but you pull away, a soft smile on your face. Your arms loop around his neck as he looks at you and you look thoughtful. “That sounded a lot like Lemony Snicket the more I think about it.”

“I read books to my best friend’s kids,” he points out and you laugh. “Sarah really likes A Series of Unfortunate Events.”

“Well, we can’t fault her. Steve and Natasha are some of the biggest bookworms ever.”

“Doll, she’s four.”

“She’s a smart kid.” You shrug innocently and he laughs, scrunching up his nose. It has always been easy with you. Tentatively pressing another kiss against your mouth, he feels you reciprocate it quickly and his smile spreads wider across his face. Your arms tug him closer. “Bucky,” you mumble against his mouth and he hums against you. His fingers bunch the fabric at your waist and you squirm in his lap, inching to get closer. “I want to try again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers dust over his brow, swiping away hair that’s fallen into his face. He grins, eyes closed blissfully at how fond the gesture it is. “I know we can do this.” His eyes flutter open at half-mast, watching you as you carefully trace down his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, right? We’re gonna make it work, right?”

“We’re gonna do our damn hardest to try.”

“Okay.” You hug him tightly, resting your head on his shoulder and he wraps you in a tight embrace, letting you melt into him. Your whole body seems to relax in his hold and he closes his eyes, burying his face in your neck. “I needed a hug.”

“Well, you can always count on me to give you one now, doll.” You pull back and he raises his chin as a slight smirk twitches at your lip.

“Never thought I’d be thankful for an earthquake,” you whisper nefariously and he laughs into your mouth as you press a kiss hard enough to push him onto his back. He falls, legs straightening along the length of the couch. You fall with him, your hands on either side of his head and he simply holds you to him, laughing when you pepper kisses down his neck. You know every ticklish spot on his body and he can’t help but raise his head to expose the expanse of his neck.

“You’re evil,” he gasps, scandalized, and you peek up at him through your eyelashes, your eyebrow arched. He meets your eyes and it’s like the sun is in his chest. He is lighter than he has been in months.

“You love me anyway,” you say.

Bucky can’t help but agree.

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squishycheekanon · 3 years

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It’s Just Business - Two

Werewolf Steve Rodgers x reader

Warnings for the series: fluffness, Bucky and Sam bickering like five year olds, smutty smut, bad language.

“Alex!” Lara engulfed me in a hug, smiling brightly as she did.

“Lara. How are you?” I asked, my eyes flickering down to her round belly for a few moments. Seven months pregnant and she looked amazing. Her black hair up in a high ponytail. A fluffy dressing gown tied around her. Her light blue eyes sparkling.

“So happy now that you’re here. Thank goodness for your brother getting you out of there and away from your parents.” She grimaced at the thought of them, pulling me inside the house. Lara had been there for me as a big sister and I couldn’t ever repay her for it. Two older brothers is what I got, Sebastian the eldest at twenty-six and Jonathon twenty-four.

Bash is known as the golden boy, the distinguished politician. Played the part well, but if you knew him like I did, he was a crafty little shit that could do anything. Owns night clubs under a fake name. Some people joke and say he’s the head of a mob or something. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he admitted he was. Putting all that aside, he’s the most caring person you’ll ever meet.

JJ on the other hand, although caring, he cares in a different way. The magazines refer to him as ‘the ultimate party boy’ and god does he live up to the name. Too much freedom. Partying in every country he could, drinking rich people dry. Our parents never seemed to mind. Bash painted a pretty picture to the world that made them proud. Maybe I was wrong, but I always felt that because JJ wasn’t making his family proud, I was having to do it instead.

Not that I wasn’t bitter or anything...

“You’re tellin me.” I shook my head thinking of the recent news received from my father.

“What happened?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she closed the front door and ushered me up the big staircase towards one of their many guest rooms. Their house was more like a manor, the outside rustic and traditional, just like the main section of the house where the stairs sat so hugely. But the inside was more modern, I could never decide which one I preferred more. Placing my bag down on the big bed I began to explain everything to her.

“Now way! He can’t do that!” She began to rage. Flinging her arms about while I looked around the room. The headboard sat nicely up against the back wall, same wall the entrance door was on, to the left of the bed. The east wall had a closet built into it. The west was plain except for a painting of flowers in a vase sat dead centre of said wall. To the right of it, a door to the bathroom. And finally the south, a wall of windows with a sliding door in the middle.

“Actually he can.” I huffed.

“No.” Her statement was blunt. She marched out of the room and across the hall. “Sebastian!” Her voice echoed through the house and it brought a smile to my face. She always cared so much, even if I knew she couldn’t change anything, it was nice.

“What is it my dear wife?” Bash was dragged into the room by his spouse who repeated everything I said with anger.

“That sounds like dear old Dad.” Bash rolled his eyes patting my shoulder apologetically. His suit jacket was no where to be seen, shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair messy. Clear signs of a long day and a tired man.

“There has to be something we can do!” Lara wouldn’t let this go.

“There isn’t. Once father makes up his mind, there isn’t anything we can do to change it.” I nodded at my brothers truest words.

“Let’s not talk about it. I still have a few days of freedom left.” I let myself fall back onto the comfortable bed. The couple soon filed out of the bedroom leaving me to rest. As if I could. My mind was wide awake, I at least tried to sleep. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling. But the machine wouldn’t turn off, the cogs wouldn’t stop moving.

“This is ridiculous.” I rubbed my hands over my face.

Slipping out of the bed, my black night dress flowing while I walked closer to the big window wall. Pushing the sliding door open and stepping out onto the balcony to stare at the view. It was beautiful. Reminded of something out of a movie.

A giant lake with big pine trees and huge fir trees outlined the water. All of them merging together, I couldn’t tell where the forest line stop or started. A foggy smoke came from me with my deep breath. It was so cold, I barely felt it but I wrapped my arms around myself anyway as if by instinct. A loud howl sounded from somewhere in the middle of the forest. A creature, a fox? A wolf maybe? Whatever it was, it sounded lonely. The cry in the dark had me feeling sad for the poor thing.

“I get it. Being alone sucks.” I spoke into the darkness of the night. Feeling the breeze pull a shiver from my body, I made my way back inside the comfort of the room. I didn’t even think about it before leaving the door open and getting into bed. Somehow I was more relaxed with it open, I felt closer to something. Easily drifting off to sleep, the sound of the animal howling blurred into my dream land.

“Up you get lazy bones! Come on time to start your day.” Lara burst through the door yelling, before gasping in shock. “Did you leave the door open all night? It’s freezing in here.” She trudged towards the glass and slid it closed. I sat up and watched her do it.

“Yeah I guess I did.” I frowned slightly, it wasn’t exactly like me to feel at ease with a door wide open.

“Well wash up and come down for breakfast.” She placed a kiss on the top of my head and left leaving me wondering if this is what mothers were suppose to be like. Were they suppose to wake you up early so you made the most of your day? Were they suppose to make you breakfast? Or show you affection? It’s not exactly what I was used to. Nevertheless I got up, got dressed and had breakfast.

“So little sister, what are your plans for today?” Bash asked shoving a piece of toast in his mouth, identical to how he did when we were kids. A small smile pricked at my lips at the sight.

“I was gonna go for a walk, clear my head.” The married couple seemed to think it was a great idea, practically shoving me out the door.

There was fog all across the river this morning, although it wasn’t particularly cold out. The trees reminded me of when Bash, JJ and I used climb the big oak tree in the backyard and the boys got told off for encouraging me to be unlady like. The thought made me giggle, I was never lady like no matter how hard my mother tried to make me that way. I guess I just hated to be told what to do in any circumstance.

My knee high boots crushed leaves underneath them while I walked, I loved the sound. The crunch of nature. This walk had soothed me and I wasn’t even that far from the house yet. Everything here was so serene, so full of life. I wished I could stay here and forget everything. Just let everything go, all my resentment towards my parents, all the pressure of this stupid task.

He cleared his throat before I noticed him, stopping in my tracks to see the rugged blonde man from yesterday.

“S-Steve.” Why the hell was he here? How did he know I was?

“Alexandra.” My name rolled off his tongue bewitchingly. He looked so different than before, no smart shirt. Just a plain dark blue t-shirt seems he liked that colour. No dress pants this time, merely a pair of jeans.

“Are you stalking me or something? Did my father put you up to this?” I grumbled, slipping my hands into my leather jacket pockets. My stance was always kinda wide, feet at the same distance as shoulders, back straight, head up just as mother said. I don’t remember the last time I slouched. He seemed to give me a once over, stopping on my hips? “Uh eyes up here buddy.” His blue orbs shot up in surprise, his left eyebrow raised.

“There’s been a change of plans. You’re coming straight to me once you’re done here.” Rude much.

“Why isn’t my father telling me this himself?” I eyed his feet as he took a step forward, taking one back of my own.

“He’s busy. Asked me to deliver the message. A woman, Martha, she’s already packed your things and sent them over. Your room is being readied as we speak.” His muscles seemed to tense as he spoke. He held himself confidently yet the way his hands were stuffed in his jean pockets gave him this goofy undertone.

“I still have a few days here.” I tried to keep my voice as stable as I could. I really didn’t want to leave, but Steve seemed like the type to tattle to my Father. I had to go to this unknown place, alone and so fast too.

“I know.” He sighed before speaking again. “I don’t want your stay with me to be uncomfortable for you. I’ll try everything in my power to make you at ease.” He puffed out his chest almost showing off his strength.

“I doubt that.” I let my lip curl slightly. I didn’t give him time to respond, turning on my heel and walking back. A once peaceful morning was now a tense and unwanted one.

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sanchoyo · 3 years

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danny phantom episode 4-7 Thoughts: (under a readmore because, these got kinda long!)

-the outfit danny had to buy for dash's party. CLASSIC 2000S i cannot stop laughing. And also showing up to the party and everyone is dressed like the trio is hilarious. and further proof that everyone looks good dressed goth.

-dash has a closet full of cute lil bear plushies?? LOVE that. adorable. also his response to danny trashing his room fighting a ghost was SO valid if somone BROKE MY BED IN HALF ID BE PISSED TOO.

-technus being like 'oh smart, u should be a tutor!' then later being like 'forget tutor, be a teacher!' :) supportive king <3 I also really like his upgraded suit/design. AND SPOCK CAMEO??? HELLO??

-the music in this show is super. its so funky. I looked it up and the guy who does it, guy moon (awesome name) also did music for other cartoons like fairly odd parents, barnyard, chalkzone, billy & mandy, AND some actual movies like FIGHT CLUB??? the whiplash I got from reading that)

-sam being rich explains a lot about her, actually.

-I know the moral of the episode was supposed to be 'dont ditch your friends for popular people/spend a lot of money on clothes that arent You to Fit In'. but tbh. it wouldve been easy for danny to have been like 'well, okay, ill come but only if my friends can!' but I get. that hes 14. so. not a lot to say there.

-BOX GHOST IS BACK!!!!! also, danny sitting up and wearing the dress/wig/makeup. umm thats how I dress everyday LMFAO. unironically me. (hate the jokes that boil down to 'haha funney man in dress' tho. but this is a look)

-jazz being protective of her brother once again being like NOOO YOU GUYS BETTER NOT STAKE OUT HIS (actually haunted) LOCKER!! shes aware of how people perceive him and she wants to help :( which is also probably why she told dash to invite him to that party even tho she had no interest in going!! she wants to help him out :(

-gotta say im with tucker on the whole 'should danny use his powers to get back at bullies' debate. 100% yes. let him teach kids to fight back. making dash throw his food at paulina out of the blue? no. but when hes actually about to pick on someone? yeah! for self defense? YEAH! if dash and his friends just threw food at him, I think rather than. idk doing sneaky shit with frogs he couldve just threw it back and not pulled punches if they tried to fight. I kNOOWWW its a kids show so they are like 'if u fight back ur just as bad!! violence bad!!' but. theyre HIS POWERS. WHO CARES.

-like my only gripe is that dash really isnt LEARNING ANYTHING WHEN DANNY GETS BACK AT HIM IN THE MOST PETTY INDIRECT WAYS. whatever they had to add a bully psa episode I guess. I hate it and I hate the way cartoons usually handle it because these methods simply Do Not Work. 'aND YouRE USinG YOur poWErs FOR EVill???!' this is Not Evil. even when poindexter takes dannys body, theyre only being 'nice' bc hes stealing soda for them!! bitches deserve what they get (nothing too brutal bc theyre high schoolers but damn, if they pick on danny he doesnt need to be the 'bigger person' he needs to start biting people)

-SAM TRYING TO SMUGGLE FROGS OUT OF THE BIO LAB?? girl in middle school when we had to dissect frogs we could opt out, also, they came to us already dead and preserved...

-sidney's lingo and the fact hes in black and white is sending me. also, danny is a ghost celebrity apparently for being a halfa?? ok. thats interesting to know

-the DENTIST BEING EXCITED ABOUT THE COTTON CANDY FLOOD IS THE FUNNIEST THING SO FAR.

-I LOOOVE the trope of 'wishes gone wrong'. not crazy about the stereotypical genie, or the use of the dreamcatcher looking design. (also, I KNOW theyre scientists but the way theyre handling a cold...are the fentons ANTIVAX)

-the genie. she. whitewished paulina. JKASDFHKJ. (the ghost literally just being hello kitty???? im dying) 'why do i feel that im special and wonderful? because I AM! <3' paulina ilu self worth queen. felt bad for her also getting possessed by (2) boys later who were arguing INSIDE HER. WTF.

-imagine being the guy trapped in his now flying car. he thought danny and tucker were HALUCINATIONS. imagine being trapped in a flying car with two, what you think are imaginary arguing 14 year olds convinced ur gonna die. i WOULD say this dude is gonna need so much therapy, but he seemed totally fine and excited when they landed (I would be happy too if a chicken was on my head. chickens rule) stoner rights

-sam's bat slippers??? iconic. SO cute.

-I think desiree's backstory is so :( do all ghosts have messed up sad backstories?? poindexter's was sad too...cannot imagine box ghost has any kind of fucked up backstory. but what if. his mom got pushed off cliffs by boxes...........a la cruella... anyway her 'no man may lay a hand on me' iconic. ilu

-I know danny has no concept of how much bras cost but my god dont attack tucker with some girls bra. those are so expensive.

-its really. well its not a GOOD THING he went into the portal and got fucked up, but its good danny was the one to do it rather than sam or tucker. because even tho he was being influenced by desiree and kept getting more malicious and it prob wasnt 100% him...he sucked as a ghost like most the people he 'pranked' were innocent ppl just Chillin and he didnt want to help anyone at all. I think danny is the most responsible out of them but also, hes 14 and shouldnt HAVE to feel obligated to fight every ghost. hes a good kid and wants to, but I also feel like he feels like...responsible for the portal turning on?? because his parents did give it up,, but it was an accident and not his fault (if anything, why was the on switch on the inside. why was it that easy. why was there no safety measures. that seems like smth OSHA needs to hear about). like thats my son. hes a good boy. and hes never done anything wrong in his life, ever. if anyone hurts him im killing everyone in this room and then myself. etc.

-danny's curfew is 10PM????? DUDE. when I was 14...shit I couldn't be out that late, I had to be back at like, 8 at the latest, and my parents had to know exactly where and who I was going with, AND i had to call/text them regularly...is this a case of my parents being overbearing, or the fentons sucking??? the only time i could EVER be out that late was if I was at an overnight sleepover or smth...

-the vultures have lil fezes. why do they have fezes...theyre so fuckin funny 'ask him for directions' 'I KNOW WHERE IM GOING' these ghost vultures are my new grandpas. pick them up, put them in the adopt box.

-'I wonder why those guys were trying to waste dad!' THEYRE GHOSTS. YOUR DAD HUNTS GHOSTS. why is that not a conclusion you'd immediately jump to??

-*jazz voice, clearly disgusted* WISCONSIN???

-mrs fenton with the lab coat and leg warmers and PERM. YESSS STYLISH.

-was going to say 'ew billionaire' @vlad but. super valid he used his powers to assumedly steal and cheat to get that money, thats how all billionaires do it! but ew hes a SIMP. and spending your billions on FOOTBALL STUFF?? you are Not Valid overall. I DO respect the fact you have a castle instead of a mansion. in wisconsin. if youre going to be stupidly rich might as well go all out, torches on the wall and all. I DO like his ghost form's little kitty ears. catman. and his cape! every design can benefit from a cape. and how different his forms look, like danny looks the EXACT SAME IN BOTH FORMS ASIDE FROM COLOR CHANGES. vlad's is like,, I could believe they were different people!! also I love the drama. but dude you are fighting a 14 year old. lame. also he was like, telling danny he wanted his mom and him and like, wanted him to renounce his dad?? WHAT ABOUT JAZZ?? bitch. those r MY kids and they are both important and special. I do agree they need better parents but thats not u sir <3

-I thought vlad's 'little badger' nickname for danny came from the football mascot of the packers, but google says they have NO MASCOT?? so now I'm like?? is it because his hair is sometimes black and sometimes white?? I hate to give him props but thats a PERFECT NICKNAME. theyre also tiny and vicious!

-why did I get so excited that Skulker is back!! its been like. 2-3 eps LMAO. AND THE DAIRY KING. ICONIC I LOVE HIM. hes the nicest guy ever :) more nice ghosts please. danny cannot be fighting alone everytime with no ghost buds like every ghost being hostile sucks :(

-mr. fenton knew vlad was controlling him, but a few episodes ago he had no clue danny was doing the same thing...is it something about how malicious the ghost is?? he just seemed to think his memory had gaps the first time, this time he was INSTANTLY LIKE 'GHOST'. then again in this ep when danny did it again he was just slightly confused but not immediately freaking out like he did with vlad possessing him!!

-'my parents will accept ME NO MATTER WHAT' so. so why haven't you come out to them yet, danny?? if you really think that?? if theres no harm, and you're sure??? if vlad is a real problem, wouldnt that make dealing with him easier, to expose him???? SO WHY HAVENT YOU COME OUT YET?? COULD IT BE,, MAYBE YOU HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT WHETHER YOUR PARENTS ACTUALLY WILL ACCEPT YOU??? 🤔 ... 🏳‍🌈 I get why people say He Is Trans. I totally totally get u danny.

-sorta unrelated, but it just occurred to me in one of these eps they go to casper HIGH not casper middle school??? theyre 14?? dont highschools usually do ages 15-18? (I didnt go to hs so I might be wrong, if I am ignore this...) freshmen are usually 14-15, could just be a case of them not turning 15 yet but they will sometime in the school year (I say they because tucker said he was 14 too)? I know the show has 3 seasons, so by the end of it will they be older? thatd be neat but usually cartoon characters stay the same age...I love shows where you can see the characters age and grow up, though...three seasons seems like a long time to spend on like, 1 year...

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #me on the first post:#its not a liveblog!#me this time: it kinda is. but not in the same format as my tmm one #i like doing one post for a handful of eps bc it saves time #and crowds my blog less #and also i just like talking abt what im watching lol #dp thoughts

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

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cake walk bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Inspo can be found here, i really liked the idea and kinda ran with it lol

sorry ive been away for a while. ive been in a shit mindset but things around me are changing again and im hoping for the better. im away from home this week and figured id finally finish this, as well as restart the marvel shows on netflix so expect some new daredevil and punisher one shots in the near future 😁

also this is like half edited so if it sucks or i forgot to fix anything sorry

Song: soft by motionless in white

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Bucky had been super tired lately. He had been having nightmares here and there and though he hadn't had one in a while he was still worried he'd hurt me in his sleep. So he was currently taking a nap in our shared room at the compound. We were only here for a few days to train new recruits and then we would all be back to our own homes. Me and buck, Sam, Clint, even Scott showed up. But then again he was always excited to be part of the team. Now I was in the kitchen like I usually was, stress-baking. But just to be safe, and per his request, I had a camera on buck while he slept to make sure he was still okay and I could rush to our room if he needed me.

So I stood at the island, gathering ingredients and singing softly to myself. not unusual for me to do, it was a good distraction after all and everyone else loved it because it made the place smell great. that and they all loved the many cakes, cookies, muffins, breads, and other baked goods I decided to make. a lovely thought really, one that brought a smile to my face as I began measuring out the dry ingredients. when I turned to look at the monitor though Bucky was gone, making me set the flour back onto the counter. Panic set in immediately. I tapped the screen twice, hitting the tracking cam on his watch and the footage coming up. I sighed deeply as I saw the blurry side video of Bucky murder-stomping his way through the halls. I tapped my own watch quickly.

"attention we have a 'wolf out of containment.' if you see him direct him to the kitchen but do not engage. If you wake him he'll hurt himself."

I said into it, rolling my eyes at the code name, and looking back to the monitor in worry. I heard my voice echo off the walls as he stepped towards the sound. One of the agents was walking down the hall and paused when he saw Bucky, rage behind his eyes as he got closer. Now Bucky was holding him harshly in his metal hand.

"Where is she?"

He said through gritted teeth and i could see both of their faces in the view on my watch.

"Kitchen. Down the hall to the left."

The agent squeaked out. Bucky threw him to the ground quickly before making his way down the hall. I double tapped the monitor again as he turned into the room. There was an intensity and pain strewn across his features as he made his way to me. whatever nightmare this was it had a full hold of him. he had been sleep walking a lot recently but it had never gotten this bad. but he knew what to do, even unconscious. Before he even made it to the table across the room Sam was rushing in behind hi, coming to a screeching halt when he realized what was happening to his best friend.

"I heard the code. Is everything okay?"

He asked and Bucky turned around, throwing a punch his way and him ducking. he made a scared face as he stood back up ready to fight.

"At ease soldier!"

I yelled and Bucky froze, mid motion as he began to throw another. He looked over his shoulder at me, seething, breathing heavy, eyes glazed over.

"Come here."

I said softly. He sent Sam a glare before doing as told, backing his way to the counter where i was standing. he never once stopped looking at Sam, or the other few agents that came rushing in with guns. that definitely didn't help.

"do you need help?"

one of them asked, looking between me and Bucky as he plucked a knife out of the wood block on the counter, holding it in a defensive position as he stood in front of me.

"no, I don't need help. Sam and I can take care of this."

i said matter-of-factly, the agent speaking into their watch and all three of them lowering their guns.

"just leave us be. everything is fine. if i need anything ill call."

they all nodded hesitantly, looking to Sam briefly before leaving. i sighed out when they were finally out of sight, side stepping buck and going back to measuring my sugar and vanilla.

"He sleep walking again?"

Sam asked quietly, stepping very slowly around the table and I nodded, moving to put mix my dry ingredients together. Bucky stood next to me, fist clenched tight around the knife as he watched Sam's every move with vigorous intent. I pulled one of the stools out from under the counter before grabbing a spoon and mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make the cookie dough.

"Sit."

I offered buck and he sent me a confused looked. I glared at him and he did as told.

"Sam you mind setting a timer on that pad for twelve minutes?"

He nodded and did as told, stepping closer but not close enough for buck to do anything about it. they stared at each other as I molded the dough into balls on a tray.

"has this been happening a lot recently?"

Sam asked and i nodded, pushing the chocolate chips off the ends of my fingers.

"it hasn't been full mission before, and this one is lasting much longer."

i noted, washing my hands in the sink to the right of the counter.

"how do you know what to do?"

i let out a nervous laugh, tucking the tray of cookies into the hot oven behind me.

"in all actuality, I don't. I'm just hoping that the things I've tried before work. "

Bucky looked between me and Sam as I stood back up, drying my hands on the towel and moving to touch his cheek gently. he flinched for a second, staring at me as i tucked his hair behind his ear.

"its okay soldat. you can relax, he's not going to hurt me. he's my friend."

i said very softly, looking over his eyes as he turned back to Sam.

"put the knife down."

i said just above a whisper, moving to stand behind him. i began slowly running my fingers through his hair. he still held the knife tightly as i started to hum along to one of his favorite songs from his childhood. he had shared it with me sometime after we had moved in together. it had been my savior more than once.

"does that work?"

Sam asked and i sent him a look, trying to get Bucky to lean back into my chest. he kept jolting himself back up, fighting the urge to close his eyes. as I got to the end of the song though he had his head completely rested against me, body limp, and knife clattering to the rug beneath us. he had fallen back into a deep sleep, snoring softly as I continued to finger comb his hair.

"yes Samuel, it works."

i said, and then the timer went off. Bucky jolted upright, the stool shaking as i leaned forward and caught him before he fell off. I held his shoulders as he breathed heavily, looking around in deep confusion.

"Sam?"

he asked before looking back at me and drawing his brows.

"hey baby, its okay. I'm sorry we woke you."

he turned to me and took my hand.

"y/n, why am I in the kitchen?"

i let out a nervous laugh, letting him go and getting my cookies out of the oven.

"you were sleep walking again."

he groaned, standing up and freezing when he looked down.

"I didn't hurt anyone... did I?"

he said horrified as he picked the knife up. i shook my head frantically, taking it from him and putting it back in the block.

"no! no no no. baby you did not."

i said quickly through one breath, placing my hands on either side of his face. he looked like he was going to cry.

"hey, no, look at me. James. you didn't hurt anybody. I dropped the knife in surprise when you came in here. it had nothing to do with you."

Sam sent me a sad look as i tried to calm Bucky down.

"you're sure?"

he asked pained and i pulled him into a tight hug, cradling his head in my hand and mouthing to Sam to not say anything.

"yes Jamie I am sure. you are perfectly fine. scared the shit out of some agents. but no more."

he took in a shaky breath.

"i scared you."

he repeated just above a whisper and i pulled him away from me, holding his head in my hands and looking between his eyes.

"you just caught me by surprise, nothing we haven't been through before."

he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. i kissed his forehead gently.

"hey, now that you're awake, you want a cookie?"

i asked and he looked up at me, offering a small smile.

"uh, yeah, id love one."

i nodded once before turning and carefully taking one off the tray and placing it on one of the dry paper towels sat on the counter in front of him.

"made especially for my buckaroo."

i said and he laughed lightly before taking a bite. he was none the wiser and Sam sent me a testing look.

"Sam?"

i asked, holding one out to him and he took it begrudgingly. i went back to finger combing Bucky's hair as he snatched another. sending me a genuine smile as he chewed. i shared another knowing glance with Sam before he pulled another bar stool out and sat across from us.

"these are pretty good y/n, wish we could share with more of the guys here."

he said and i sent him a look.

"well i guess we'll just have to save them some for later. I'm sure they're all very busy right now with other important things."

i said a little condescendingly and he shook his head.

"so uh, i don't know what's happening but if i sit here any longer there wont be any left for anyone else. what do you say we go for a walk or something?"

Bucky said with a smile and i nodded, smiling back.

"i think that's a great idea. Sam?"

he looked from Bucky to me and to the tray.

"uh you guys go ahead. ill make sure these get to the guys, and that the recipe doesn't make its way into their daily reports."

i took Bucky's hand as he stood and nodded once at Sam in understanding. he was going to make sure no one got word of Bucky's incident, just in case. he was getting better after all.

"thanks Sam, it means a lot. come on buck, lets get some air."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #white wolf #334

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garlicdontwork · 3 years

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Watch The Night Go Up In Smoke (Chapter 2)

Paul(The Lost Boys) x Frog! Reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: underage drinking, some mind control, puking, driving under the influence

So you get to see the guys in this chapter, very little Marko which is sad but he’ll definitely play a bigger part once the story gets rolling so don’t worry, it’s coming.

>Previous Chapter<

Mikayla and (Y/N) climbed out of the vehicle and made their way to the beach where a giant bonfire was roaring away as teenagers and 20-somethings raged around it already completely wasted and ready to have the best night of their lives.

It was well past midnight when (Y/N) was sipping on only their second drink of the night, they were buzzed but still very much coherent and aware of their surroundings. Mikayla was a completely different story, she had jumped straight into drinking as soon as they reached the party. She had absolutely no issue socializing with complete strangers either. It was like she was a magnet for attention.

(Y/N) had prayed that tonight would change their social status but with every person that walked up and sparked a conversation with their cousin, they reverted further into their shell. Nobody even took notice of them and they had to admit, it kinda hurt.

(Y/N) had almost completely lost hope when a group of four boys approached them. They walked with such an air of confidence, (Y/N) begged whatever higher power there was for them to at least acknowledge them and it seemed that that plea might’ve been answered.

“Hey, you two look like you’re having fun,” the biker with the fluffed blonde hair said. Mikayla giggled drunkenly as her eyes wandered to the tallest of the group with the flowing dark tresses.

(Y/N) stood shocked, he was speaking directly to them. They quickly unfroze and stuttered out awkwardly, “Yeah, we’re having the absolute time of our lives right now.” The teenager cringed in embarrassment as the Twisted Sister look-alike laughed.

Mikayla, who was previously leaning on her cousin’s shoulder to stop herself from face-planting in the sand strutted up to the boy she was previously eyeing and wrapped a piece of his hair around her pointer finger flirtily, “I could think of something more fun that you and I could do. My name’s Mikayla.”

(Y/N)’s face lit up bright red at their cousin’s words as they rushed over to her and tugged her away from the leather-clad biker. “I am so sorry about her, she’s definitely drunk enough for tonight,” they apologized quickly.

The four boys laughed at the two of them, amused by their dynamic. The biker who stood closest to them smiled at (Y/N), “Don’t worry about it, at least you know she has taste.” (Y/N) laughed lightly at his statement.

The first boy walked up to (Y/N) and threw an arm over their shoulder, “I don’t know about that, Dwayne. I mean how could she possibly have taste if she didn’t even throw herself at me?” he laughed before turning to (Y/N), their faces only inches away from one another. “You get what I mean, right?”

(Y/N)’s face flushed as another member of the group, this one with a platinum blonde mullet and completely clad in black, spoke up, “Leave the poor kid alone, Paul. We don’t need them fainting on us.” He gazed at (Y/N), his bright blue eyes seemed to pierce into their very soul, “You two do seem like a good time though and you don’t seem to be having the most fun here. I know a place we could all go and let loose, just a little intimate party for the six of us if you’re down for it.”

(Y/N) felt their mind go fuzzy for a few seconds as they actually considered leaving with this group of boys but those thoughts were quickly torn away as they felt Mikayla’s body next to them start to fold in on itself. She heaved over and let loose the contents of her stomach all over the sand at their feet.

The four bikers all looked shocked at the scene in front of them as (Y/N) went into protective mode over their cousin. They held her hair back and held her up by the waist as she continued to gag.

The teenager looked up at the boys, “Sorry but we’re gonna have to pass up that offer, I really should get my cousin home. Maybe we can hang out some other time?”

They all nodded as Mikayla finally managed to get a hold of herself and (Y/N) began to usher her away from the party.

David spoke before they were able to completely get away, “Nice jacket by the way.”

(Y/N) nodded, confused as to why he’d bring up their jacket at such a random time, “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Aww come on, (Y/N), I wanna hang out with them,” Mikayla whined as (Y/N) readjusted the girl on their shoulder and continued the walk towards the girl’s jeep.

Mikayla was leaned up against the vehicle as (Y/N) searched her pockets for the keys to the car. Finally fishing them out, they unlocked the car and (Y/N) helped their cousin into the passenger side. They walked around the front and hopped into the driver’s side as Mikayla was struggling to buckle her seatbelt.

Her head lolled to the side as she looked at her cousin pathetically while holding out the buckle of her seatbelt, “Please help.”

(Y/N) rolled their eyes and buckled Mikayla’s seatbelt and then their own and started the car.

“We totally should’ve gone with them,” she pouted looking out the window towards the boardwalk.

“Kay, you literally hit on one of them and then proceeded to vomit all over the place. I’m taking you home for a reason.” (Y/N) said incredulously.

“Well yeah, my chances were completely blown, but I brought you here so that you could get a social life. The pretty one was totally hitting on you, what was his name again? Saul?”

“Paul. His name was Paul.”

“See you care enough about him that you bothered to actually remember his name. If you two don’t hang out soon, I’ll scream. You two would be so cute together, with him being all outgoing and flirty and with you being more introverted and shy. He could finally pull you out of your shell,” she rambled obviously still under the influence. (Y/N) shook their head, letting silence fill the vehicle.

“Where did you say we were going again?” Mikayla slurred, looking at her cousin.

“I’m taking you home, your dad would kill us if he found out we both snuck out and never came back home.”

Mikayla gasped, shooting up in her seat, “No! You can’t take me home, he’ll kill me for being drunk!”

“I think he’d prefer seeing you drunk than seeing you on a missing person’s poster. He might be mad but at least he’ll know that you made it home safe, I’m trying to be responsible here, Mikayla.”

The girl slumped in her seat, scowling at her cousin and their stupid moral compass. They had pulled into the driveway of the Emerson house as (Y/N) noticed the living room light on, “Looks like you’re busted either way.” Mikayla groaned.

The two of them hopped out of the vehicle, (Y/N) passing the keys to their cousin which she fumbled terribly. They walked up to the front door which was unlocked and made their walk of shame into the living room where Sam Emerson was lounged on a recliner watching reruns on the TV. He glanced up at his daughter noticing the kid of his best friend next to her.

He spoke to his daughter in a stern voice, “You had your mother and I worried sick when we found your bed empty and window open. We’ll talk about this in the morning, now go to your room.” He didn’t give her the opportunity to explain herself. She nodded her head solemnly and stumbled up the steps up to her room.

Sam turned his head to (Y/N), “Does your father know where you are?” They shook their head. Sam nodded in understanding, “Let me get my shoes and jacket, I’ll give you a ride home.”

They were driving through the streets back to the Frog household when Sam spoke up, “Mind telling me what tonight was all about?”

(Y/N), not used to being in trouble, immediately spilled the beans, “Mikayla wanted to help me sneak out so we could go to this party on the beach so I could meet people and become more social. Everything was going fine until she accidentally drank too much. Then she hit on this guy and ended up puking in front of him so I took her home.”

Sam looked at (Y/N) with wide eyes, surprised at how easy it was to get the full story out of them. He sighed and turned his eyes back to the road before stopping at the end of (Y/N)’s street, “I appreciate you telling me the truth, so for that, I won’t be telling Edgar what happened tonight. While I don’t approve of the way you went about things, I’m glad that you’re trying to open yourself to other people. Just be careful around people around the beach and boardwalk, there’s a lot of weirdos in Santa Carla that you don’t need to get wrapped up in okay?”

(Y/N) nodded quickly before throwing themself over the center console and hugging their uncle around the neck tightly, “Thank you so much, Uncle Sam. I promise I’ll be careful and hopefully, this never happens again.”

He smiled softly at the teenager, “Good, now you better get home before your dad realizes you’re gone.”

(Y/N) quickly hopped out of the car and waved goodbye to their uncle before walking down the street and creeping back in through their window into their bedroom where the lights were still off and the door still locked. They had made it back and nothing bad happened.

It was 3 am when (Y/N) finally settled into bed. Just as they shut their eyes, their imagination began to act up. What might’ve happened if they had gone with those boys. The thought made them queasy. They were so willing to go before Mikayla got sick, (Y/N) felt like their thoughts were completely out of control. Thinking of David made their stomach churn with uneasiness. Something about him seemed dangerous, even deadly. Then (Y/N) remember him, Paul.

His hand around their shoulder, the look in his eyes, everything about him seemed to reel (Y/N). It took everything in them to not lean in further when their faces were so close together.

(Y/N) felt their stomach flutter at the thought. Maybe Mikayla was right, they could be good together.

>Next Chapter<

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x reader

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