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voxofthevoid · 4 years

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Taking It Up The Ass Isn’t Character Growth - A Rant

So, in response to an ask a while back, I said I had a rant brewing on fandom and sex positions, and well, a lot of you wanted to see it, so here you go. You literally asked for it.

Disclaimer: This is going to talk a lot about top/bottom roles in slash fic and fandom attitude towards them and is heavily filtered through the lens of my own tastes and experiences with fandom. I’d also like to be upfront that I am 100% in favor of people writing whatever fictional content they want, and it’s not what fandom does with characters that bothers me but rather how that translates into attitudes towards real, live people. Also, this is the essay version of a slow burn AU because I regurgitate my entire fandom history before getting to the point. Beware.

I discovered fan-fiction around a decade ago, had no clue what the hell it was, got hooked and dived deeper. I started participating in fandom circa 2013, and I was fairly young and also completely inexperienced both sexually and romantically. The fandom in question was Hannibal and my ship of choice was Hannibal/Will. It was/is a very chill fandom in general, but we had our drama. And chief among the contentious topics was—you guessed it—the top/bottom debate. I can’t actually remember any other topic that was discussed and argued for so ardently in that fandom, at least in those days. Even after I drifted away, I came across a few posts on the matter.

Generally, you had two camps—people who supported strict roles and those who were in favor of switching*. And because we’re a society plagued by illogical assumptions, the strict role camp mostly had people who thought Mr. Big Bad Cannibal in the Fancy Suits wouldn’t take it up the ass because he’s older, more experienced, more mentally stable, and of course, more ‘dominant’ in personality. Yes, that sentence is chock full of problematic shit. I am aware. Lots of people were aware and argued strongly against attributing top/bottom roles to personality. I don’t remember anyone arguing as enthusiastically for Top Will, but those voices were also there. But the general idea was that assigning strict top/bottom roles to a male/male couple was casting them in a heterosexual mold and thus, the progressive option was to make them switch. Strict roles also garnered comparisons to “yaoi” and uke/seme stereotypes, which was of course bad and fetishizing and we, the Western media fans, of course had to do better. Stealth racism is fun to untangle.

Anyway, I lapped up the woke juice. Partly because I was a baby queer from Buttfuck Nowhere, Asia, who had zero exposure to LGBT+ communities and what queer folks did with each other. Partly because it was the stance taken by most of my favorite writers so it seemed like a good position to emulate.

Emulate it I did. Most discussions I had about this happened in private with the handful of close friends I had in fandom. Where it really showed was in my writing. I made sure to write switching—maybe not in every fic, but then I alternated between fics. Thing is though, I did have a preference. I liked Top Will. I created and consumed a ton of Top Hannibal, and sometimes it was okay, sometimes it was not, but I couldn’t pinpoint why it made me uncomfortable. Back then, I thought I was a cis questioning/bi girl and once again, the impression I got was that not being MLM, having a preference was automatic fetishization. So I tried my best to justify my preferences, to my friends at least. I think what I said was that fandom was skewed towards Top Hannibal, and I liked the opposite because I’m a contrary fuck. Which I am, to be fair, but this was just me desperately trying to figure shit out without being offensive.

That’s the line I touted all the way until 2018, which was when I fucked off to grad school in A City, finally freed of Buttfuck Nowhere and able to actually date. At this point, I was settled in my sexuality (girls only) and questioning my gender (non-binary or trans guy). I had also tentatively figured out during undergrad that I’m an exclusive top and a Dom. Actual attempts at dating cemented that, yes, those are my preferences, about as flexible as a steel rod. Cue motherfucking epiphany over my fanfic tastes.

And see, over these years, I was engaging intermittently with fandom. I dutifully wrote switch couples. I also continued to have rigid tastes and continued to explain it away as being a contrary fuck—to be fair, until Steve/Bucky, my preference did seem to be the opposite of the larger fandom preference. But correlation, as we know, isn’t causation. Until Steve/Bucky, I continued to write versatile couples because I honestly didn’t have the guts to just say I liked it just one way. I do now but even then, I feel compelled to add that it’s because I want to see my own taste reflected in fic, so I write/read the character I relate to as a top, it's not that deep etc. Would I be as forthright if I didn’t have that reason? Would I have such strict preferences in fic if I didn’t have strict preferences IRL? The latter’s a mystery, but the former isn’t—I wouldn’t be because fandom is still entrenched in the same ideas that got me to this point to begin with.

In every fandom I’ve been in, I’ve seen some version of this debate go around. Sometimes, it’s one party saying “why would you write Character X as a bottom, he’s so Reason A” and a reblog chain that insults the OP and/or extols the virtues of switching. Sometimes, it’s a general-ish message that says they don’t understand why people have strict preferences when we all know real gay couples switch. Sometimes, it’s blanket statements that accuse anyone with preferences of fetishizing. Sometimes, it’s the same reasoning that gets you “Character Y is a top because of Reason B” transposed on versatile couples except this takes the form of “they switch because they’re equals.”

Ya’ll, I’m fucking tired.

I have long since lost count of the number of stories I’ve seen where an exclusive top learning bottom and liking it is character growth. Where a character who prefers to bottom taking a turn on top is empowering.

Isolated, these are fine. But I’ve seen enough of such stories that it’s distinctly discomfiting and a major squick. Sometimes a trigger, if I'm too immersed in the story. I’m not going to try and burn an author at the stake because they pissed me off. I am just going to close that window and quietly handle my shit. People can write whatever they want. But this one theme hits too close to home, as you can see from this 1.6k rant.

My friend (also my ex-girlfriend) and I had an all-out bitching session about this the other day. Both of us are kinky fuckers who have rigid, complementary roles we prefer and we have both had our grueling days of struggling to reconcile our sexual tastes with our ideologies precisely because of how these things are frowned upon in conservative and progressive circles. Seeing that in fandom, of all places, is both insulting and exhausting. Topping and bottoming aren’t personality traits. Neither is D/s. It’s sexual preference and power play. It really does not have to be that deep. I am not exorcising childhood trauma using the bodies of women. My partners, former and current, have not been brainwashed by the patriarchy. We will not become better, more complete individuals once I magically stop being a stone top and my partners embrace the joys of a strap-on.

I have, with my own two eyes, seen someone say that in a really committed relationship, of course the couple will switch.

Bullshit.

It’s transparent bullshit. This does not get attributed to cisgender M/F couples. Even when the automatic assumptions of woman = bottom and man = top get addressed, switching isn't presented as the default. No one’s saying “oh, if you really love your husband, you’ll peg him”. I do know butch/femme sapphic couples get their own share of shit. Because it’s all heteronormativity, right? Can’t have any other reason for top/bottom roles.

You have two extremes with “so who’s the woman” on one end and “it’s woke only if they switch” on the other, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re equally damaging. There shouldn’t be a pressure, however subtle, to conform your taste in fiction to some arbitrary idea of progressiveness. People are going to like whatever they want anyway; all this does is create an atmosphere where those likes can’t always be freely expressed without a lot of mental gymnastics. We’re seeing so many versions of this in the pushback against so-called problematic content, but smaller, subtler versions exist too.

Fictional characters aren’t real. They can be whatever you want them to be. And yes, other people will often want them to be the exact opposite of your ideas, but that’s just how things work. Meanwhile, the people behind these usernames? They’re real. No one should be throwing real people under the bus to ‘protect’ characters that don’t exist. Hannibal Lecter doesn’t care whether he gets fucked or dismembered in Author B’s fanfiction, but the discourse that surrounds the dick up his ass? That does affect flesh and blood people.

I am not claiming that this is the only attitude in fandom. Middlegrounds do exist. Plenty of people abide by fic and let fic and there are folks who pipe up to say not every RL queer couple switches. But it’s often the extremes that reach most people. That was certainly my experience, and I’m not the only one.

I don’t really know how to end this post. It is 100% a rant and one that’s been building up for a while. Bottom line is that people’s sexual behavior varies wildly and whenever you attack sexual tastes in fanfic by saying it’s unrealistic - or worse because let’s be real, that’s a very tame word choice - please remember that there’s likely someone out there who practices it.

* I’m using switch and versatile synonymously in this post. It’s mostly concerned with top/bottom debates. A lot of what I’m saying is also echoed in portrayals of and discussions surrounding D/s dynamics, but I’m not addressing that as much for now.

#fandom #top bottom discourse #wow that's a tag #here it is the rant i promised #because i don't quite trust tumblr i feel compelled to add that this is ofc not some kind of attack on actual people who switch either #you do you man #live your best life #vox has opinions

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goddesswritings · 3 years

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peacefall - the beginning | Sam Taylor

Title: : peacefall – the beginning

Pairing: AU Ghost!SamTaylor x OC

Summary: Y/n is a writer, and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost, and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.

Word Count: 3k

Notes: Beware, this story contains major character death.

Also listen to the song peacefall by Purity Ring and you may be able to get some og the headspace I had when writing this.

This is an old fic that I changed to Sam. Mind you, I have not seen Amazing Stories, so this doesn’t follow the actual episode, it more like uses the likeness of Sam Taylor and makes him into an ancient Victorian character for the purpose of this ancient story of mine.

Masterlist

********

“I have no true memory of meeting my parents for the first time. Of course not, I was just a babe, but I do know that they nurtured and loved me very much. Growing up, I never once questioned their love for me nor for each other, I just knew it was there.”

Recently, you moved into a beautiful old house. It was on the smaller side, with a narrow staircase that led up to the second floor, but it was perfect. The house had to have been built over a hundred years ago. It was filled with the most beautiful wood floors and moulding. Every room had some type of dark wood lining the walls and windows. Some of the wallpaper was peeling in a few of the rooms, but that was an easy fix. There were a few other things that needed fixing in the house as well. You knew the house had seen better days but were happy to be living in it.

There were two bedrooms, the main bedroom was located next to the bathroom. It had a nice row of windows on the far wall that showed the beautiful old neighborhood the house was in, as well as a beautiful little closet. The bathroom was pretty spacious for the small home, with a white clawfoot tub in the center of the room. You were in love with that tub the minute you laid eyes on it. Growing up, you’d always wanted a clawfoot tub.

The second bedroom was located at the end of the hall. There were only two windows in that room and there were two large trees that covered the sunlight from reaching the room. This caused the room to be a bit darker than normal, but you loved it all the same. You made that room into your personal office. You’re a writer. The room was the perfect place for you to work when inspiration struck. Especially because it allowed no distractions from the outside world.

Things were finally coming together for you. Your newest book had just been published and you’d finally saved enough to live on your own. You finally felt happy. You didn't have many friends or a boyfriend, but you were happy with yourself. Living alone would be good for you. It would allow you to focus and get a lot of writing done.

The first couple of weeks were quiet and nothing ever happened in the house. It seemed perfect, too perfect. You knew a house that old had to have some sort of past and you were willing to find out what it was. You were a naturally curious person.

Maybe a month into living in the house, things began to happen. Unimportant things would go missing and turn up in a completely different room. At first, you thought you’d just been moving the stuff and forgetting where you put it, but when a book you were reading disappeared when you explicitly remembered putting it on the bedside table, you knew something was going on.

At night there would be odd creaks that you hadn’t heard when you first moved in. One night you were sure there were footsteps in the hallway, but they were gone before you’d had a chance to investigate them. You knew what you heard was not in your mind. Even with this stuff happening, you were not afraid. You grew up in a haunted house, so it wasn’t new. Things just continued to happen for the next three months and you did your best to ignore them and just live life.

You were halfway done your next book when the notes for the book went missing. That didn’t make you happy, because it meant that whatever was doing it, was an intelligent spirit. You spent the entire day ravaging the house and trying to find the missing notes.

“This is not funny!” You yelled out while sitting in the middle of the living room, the house was a mess around you. After that, you swear you heard a laugh. This spirit just wanted to piss you off. This made you want to get some background on the house.

****

You had all intentions to learn the past of the house, but life got busy. You had to make an impromptu trip a few hours away to New York to meet up with your editor and agent. Both wanted to talk about your upcoming book and what they should expect in it. You have to say a good thing about being a writer is being able to keep your identity secret. You were able to live your life normally without having to worry about being recognized, it was great. Anyway, the trip to New York lasted about a week and you couldn’t wait to return home.

The house was quiet when you returned, eerily quiet. You didn’t know what to expect from the spirit in the house, but at that moment you were too tired to care. You were dying for a soak in that beautiful tub of yours. After placing your bags in the bedroom, you headed to the bathroom to start the tub. You filled it with some lavender bubble bath.

After the bath was started, you retreated to the bedroom to get ready. You tied up your hair up and changed into a blue silk robe. As you were headed back to the bathroom, you remembered to grab a glass of wine to help you relax. So you turned off the tub before heading back down the stairs to grab it.

Halfway down the stairs when you spotted a tall man standing in the living room. He was only there for a split second, but you knew what you saw was real. You shook your head and made your way into the kitchen. Pouring a glass of wine before heading back upstairs. Walking past the living room, you got chills, but cast it off as nothing. You made it back to the bathroom quickly and put the wine on the counter.

Just as you’d untied your robe, you heard your bedroom door close, you retied the robe and went out into the hallway. “Hello?” You expected a reply but got nothing.

You walked to the bedroom to find the door shut. When you tried to push it open, it wouldn’t budge. “What the hell. This is not funny at all.” You spoke and continued to push on the door. So you stopped and listened for any movement on the other side of the door but heard nothing.

Once again, you moved the door handle and it swung wide open, slamming into the wall. There was no one in the bedroom. Now you were beginning to get freaked out.

Shaking your head, you went back to the bathroom and started to remove the robe again. Letting it drop to the floor, you picked up the wine and stepped into the hot bath. You set the wine on window ledge beside the tub before finally relaxing against the warm porcelain of the tub. It had been a long time since you’d had the chance to relax like this. You closed your eyes and let the water relax you, you just let your mind wander.

You sipped the wine occasionally. It must have been fifteen minutes or so before you started to feel like you were being watched. Shooting up, you looked around the room, trying to find the source of the feeling, but as usual there was no one. This spirit seemed to be playing a lot of tricks.

After that you decided it was probably best that you retire to bed, because you felt like you were going crazy. Exiting the bath, you brushed your teeth, and changed into a pair of black shorts and a t-shirt. Then snuggled into your bed. You still felt like you were being watched but you pushed that aside and went to sleep.

You were sure you’d gone to sleep, but now you found yourself sitting in the living room. You were dressed up in a beautiful blue dress and it seemed you were waiting for someone. Two minutes later you heard footsteps and a gorgeous man entered the room. He was tall. If you had to guess, he was about six feet tall. He had the darkest brown hair that was perfectly set on his head. His face had a cute scruffy beard that fit him so well. Everything about him was cute and screamed innocence.

“I love that color on you, darling.” He spoke sitting beside you on the couch. His voice was attractive.

“Thank you. I knew you would love this color.” You spoke in the dream. You weren’t speaking on your own will. The words came out without permission.

“You know me all too well, my love.” The man leaned in to kiss your cheek, a light blush formed on your cheeks. “You know I love you so much, Annabelle.”

That’s not your name.

“Oh yes I do, and you know I love you.” That was when you realized that it wasn’t your voice you were hearing and the woman sitting on the couch was not you. You were now standing on the other side of the room. She resembled you a little bit, but she was not you. Her hair was a couple shades lighter than yours. Her skin a couple shades darker than yours.

“That is why I want to marry you, Annabelle. Have you given my proposition any thought?”

She smiled but there was something fake about that smile and it made you sick, “I have Sam. I have given it so much thought, but I am afraid of what my father will say. The other townsfolk. I am betrothed to Peter after all.”

A frown appeared on the man’s face, “I understand that your father’s approval means a lot to you, I really do. But don’t you want to marry out of true love, not an arranged marriage? You and I are in love and I think that is all you need to get married. Marry me Annabelle. Please?”

Annabelle didn’t smile, she looked annoyed at the man. “Sam, I cannot marry you. My father means everything to me, and I believe he knows what he is talking about when he tells me that Peter is the best for me. I am sorry, I really am.” There was no sincerity in her voice.

“Okay, I understand.” He sighed sadly, “Then I must inform you that I will be leaving town in a few days. I have a job opportunity somewhere else.”

Annabelle nodded, “I think that would be best, but I do not think you are going to get far.”

Sam looked taken back by her words, “Why do you say that?”

Something in her changed and she looked positively evil in that moment. She pulled something from behind her and quickly shoved it into his chest. It was a knife. She had just shoved a knife into the chest of a man who loved her. What?

This was seriously freaking you out.

Sam looked down to where the knife was embedded into his chest and then looked up at Annabelle. “Why would you do this? I loved you, I still love you.” His voice was soft.

She just laughed and pushed him to the ground, “I regret to inform you, my dear Sam, I never loved you. I am in love with Peter and have been since before I met you. You are just a pawn in my game. With you gone, I will be able to take everything you have.” This woman was making you sick. She dropped down to the floor beside Sam and gripped the knife. “I am not sorry for anything I did.” There was no emotion in her voice as she spoke. Before Sam could reply, she pulled the knife from his chest. “Goodbye Sam.” Those were the last words she spoke before shoving the knife into his heart.

You sat up with a start. You were absolutely terrified from the dream. That was no dream, it was a nightmare. When you buried your head into your hands, you realized you were crying. The dream scared you. You needed a glass of water. Pulling yourself out of bed, you noticed it was only four in the morning. Rubbing your eyes before getting up and making your way downstairs for water.

So, at 4:15 am, you stood in the dark kitchen leaning against the counter with a glass of water in your hand. Your mind was trying to make sense of the dream, but it could not. Why would you dream something like that? More importantly, why do you feel like that dream was more of a memory than a dream? You finished the water and headed back to bed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get back to sleep, you just kept tossing and turning for the next two hours. Finally, at 6:30am, you decided to get up and work on the book.

Once again, you headed down the stairs to make a cup of coffee. Entering the kitchen, you stopped short when you saw something on the ground. It was the missing notes for your book. You shook your head and picked them up and started to go through the notes, a loose paper fell out to the floor. It was a newspaper article.

Town’s lady Annabelle Porter marries her long-time love Peter Lockwood.

You only read the headline, but it caught your interest. Especially since the woman in your dream was named Annabelle. Was this a coincidence? You were going to put the article aside for later. Right now, you needed coffee to wake up and you would figure this out later. Preparing a big cup of coffee and some toast, you grabbed the notes taking them up to the office. Some work needed to be done today.

You hadn’t even bothered putting clothes on, you lived alone. So, here you were, sitting in your cozy little office in some underwear and a t-shirt. Inspiration stuck shortly after taking a seat in front of the computer. There was no stopping you. Well that was until a creak of the wooden floor was heard behind you. Almost like someone was standing in the room. Quickly whipping around, you found no one.

“It seems that you like playing tricks on me spirit. Thanks for giving me my notes back.” You said aloud. You weren’t really expecting a reply, so it was surprising when a voice said ‘Welcome’ out of thin air. The most striking thing was that the voice sounded so much like the man from your dream last night.

“Uhhh okay.” This wasn’t the first time in your life that you were dealing with a ghost. You’d seen and experienced them all throughout life. This was just the first time that you had an intelligent exchange with one and it did freak you out a little bit. After that, the spirit didn’t say anything else. It got really quiet, so you got back to work.

****

You worked the entire day, only taking a few breaks for the bathroom and for food or drinks. The book was starting to come along. The house really seemed to give a lot of inspiration. Secretly you hoped to have another exchange with the spirit, but he was quiet after the morning antics. If you hadn’t known better, you would think that he left the house.

It was almost midnight when you decided to drag yourself to bed. You’d had a long day of writing and were starting to feel it all. Especially since you woke up around 4am. After brushing your teeth and using the bathroom, you climbed into bed. You were hoping you would have another dream. Maybe then, you can find out why Annabelle killed Sam?

At first, you had a bit of trouble getting to sleep, there was a lot on your mind, and you kept tossing and turning. You could not stop thinking about the dream from the previous night and the man from the dream that you kept seeing around the house. Was he the one haunting the home?

Two hours later you finally drifted to sleep, only to wake maybe an hour later to your covers being pulled down. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, too tired for this nonsense tonight. Before you could say anything, something or someone touched your leg. The feeling was cold yet inviting. You weren’t scared even when you knew you should be. Whatever was there stopped touching you right as you became aware of its presence.

“I know there is something here and I would really like it if you showed yourself.” You spoke into the dark room. Waiting for an answer, you received none. Sleep was closing in, so you just let it take over. You decided to deal with the spirit later. For now, you needed sleep.

PART TWO >>

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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Before You Go, Was I Someone You Loved? PT. 5

A Shay Cormac x Reader Story

Word Count: 1,800 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: By God, I am going to conquer the trope of slow burn or else. Enjoy! -Thorne

For the first two weeks he was in port, he found that (Y/N) avoided him like he’d contracted the plague, and when she couldn’t get away from him, if looks could’ve killed, he’d have burst into flames each time she had to be in his presence. Still, he tried his best to get her attention, at least to apologize, but with her short and clipped answers, not that he could blame her, Shay knew he was going to have to try harder.

He adjusted the hidden blades on his wrists as he entered the living room, glancing up when he saw the hem of a lilac dress in front of him. He smiled at (Y/N), though she wore a sour look.

“Mornin’, lass.” He greeted. “Sleep well?” (Y/N) simply raised the heavy leather coat and he spun around, letting her help him into it. “I did. Thank you for leaving that extra blanket out last night. It got a bit cold.” When he had the coat on, he faced her once more, pulling lightly at the lapels to situate it fully. With a slightly concerned look, he asked, “I hope you stayed warm last night?” Again, she said nothing, simply turning to begin organizing the desk.

Shay frowned at her silence, and as he turned to leave, he heard, “The fire you started last night kept my room warm enough.”

It was short and barely audible, but an answer nonetheless and he felt a smile grow across his face as he walked over to her. “I’m glad it did.” His eyes flickered over the documents she was handling. “Thank you for keeping me organized.”

“Someone ought to.” She retorted, causing him to snicker.

“Aye, it’ll be my greatest downfall.” Shay caught sight of a small smile at the corner of her mouth and he lent back against the desk, gazing at her. “After I check on the crew, I have to go into town. Would you like to come with me?”

For once in the two weeks, she willingly met his gaze, albeit her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

Shay floundered for an answer, settling on, “I just wished your company for the afternoon.”

“Don’t you have a mission to complete?”

She might’ve never been an Assassin, but she’d been around them long enough to know their enemies. They’d yet to bring up the Templars in any of their conversations, and Shay knew it’d be awhile before they did. Hell, he had yet to ask why she wasn’t at the Homestead anymore. Still, he was impressed that she’d already gathered he’d become one of their top agents.

He shook his head. “Not at the moment. My boss is awaiting more information before assigning me a job.” She grunted in response and he stood from the desk to his full height. “Tell you what, you think about your answer while I’m gone and if you’re not at the gate when I get back, then I’ll go on. Alright?”

“Mhm.” Shay smiled and made his way to the door. “Be safe.” She called out to him as he exited.

***

Despite the fact that Gist handled a majority of the Morrigan’s stock, Shay still made it his business to make sure that the basics were purchased. He went over the list in his head, continually repeating, bread, meat, beer, like it would help him remember. He briefly considered not buying alcohol because it turned his crew into drunken louts, especially when it was rum they were drinking. Something about a pirate’s life for them.

“Finally. I was getting tired of waiting for you.” Shay’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, seeing her with her winter coat on, a basket ready in her hands.

“You’re here.” He said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Excellent observation skills, Shay.” She turned, unlatching the gate. “It’s no wonder you’ve lived this long.”

He barked a laugh as he followed, closing the gate behind her. “You’re full of barbs today, aren’t you, lass?”

“Oh, you’ve yet to see barbarous, Shay.” She countered, catching sight of him from the corner of her eye.

He placed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Wait, you’re telling me that every sentence since we reunited hasn’t been a barb? Color me shocked.”

(Y/N) glared at him. “Alright, the first part was funny, now you’re just being an ass.” Shay let out another chuckle, inconspicuously shifting himself until he was on her opposite side, closer to the road. She heaved a sigh, casting a glance towards the market. “What do you need to get?”

He shrugged his shoulders, murmuring, “Gist will take care of the supplies. Do you need anything? It’s on me.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment, then started off towards a stall, leaving him to catch up. They stood side by side, Shay watching her more than he was looking at the items. She’d changed so much in just two years—her attitude, her mannerisms, everything. She seemed more mature, like she’d lived a lifetime in such a short time. Kinder, but angrier and distrustful of unknown. Distrustful of him. Shay recognized the change—it’d been the one he’d made after he met Monro. He couldn’t help but see a part of himself in her, and again, he found himself wondering what had changed after his disappearance that made her leave the Homestead. Maybe she left on her own accord? Maybe they chased her off? Maybe they—

“Shay.” A firm grip on his forearm snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked over. (Y/N) stood there, a slight look of concern on her face. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Aye. Sorry, I was thinking about something.” He glanced down at the silk scarf in her hands, a rich maroon like the sails of the Morrigan. “Is that the one you want?” She nodded and he allowed himself to briefly believe that she chose it with him in mind. He took it from her and handed it to the merchant. “Wrap up this one and—” Shay glanced at the scarves and reached in, picking up a purple one. He raised it to (Y/N)’s cheek and smiled. “This one goes nice with your skin tone.”

She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat, evidently embarrassed. “Thank you.”

Shay grinned and raised it over and behind her head, tying it around her throat, tight enough to stay, but not loose enough to fall. Though he’d finished, he let his hands linger at her neck, bare fingers brushing against the soft skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured and (Y/N) held her breath.

“Sir, the money…” He withdrew his hands from her and reached into his pocket before handing the man a few pounds.

“Keep the change.” Shay quipped, gently placing a hand to (Y/N)’s lower back, directing her away from the stand.

They walked for what seemed like an hour, neither speaking until they came to a park. They took a seat on one of the benches, watching the couples and families walking down the pathways.

“It’s a beautiful day out.” (Y/N) remarked. “It’s chilly, but not freezing.” Her eyes drifted to the trees. “Not snowing a lot yet. A few flurries here and there.”

Shay hummed, reclining back against the bench. “It was snowing in Sleepy Hollow the last time I was there.”

She glanced at him. “Recently?”

He nodded. “Had some business to take care of.”

“For the Templars?” This time, her gaze was straight ahead, not anywhere near him.

Shay took a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, for the Templars.” He watched her.

Her lips pulled in a satisfied line. “I won’t say I’m not surprised you took this route…but it’s not unexpected.” Sighing, she added, “Besides, you seem a bit more comfortable amongst them then you did the assassins.”

“And you seem more comfortable at Fort Arsenal than you did at the Homestead.” His words had no bite, nor hidden intentions and she looked at him, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he was actually seeing the real (Y/N) again. Not the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself.

She reached over and traced the Templar insignia at his chest. “I didn’t want to be around the men and women responsible for driving you to such an extreme.” Her voice lowered and she whispered, “And your ghost was everywhere. At my cottage, at the mansion, at the docks…at that stupid ledge.” (Y/N) met his gaze, tearfully huffing, “I couldn’t take it anymore and I just…left.”

Shay reached up and held her hand to his chest, feeling her fingers splay beneath his. “How’d you end up at the Finnegan’s?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’m sure because of how close I was with you, the Assassins blacklisted me. I jumped from job to job until I wound up in Cassidy’s front yard.”

He smiled, thinking of the older couple. “And they took you in?”

She nodded. “As they did for you.”

“Aye. They’re good people. Missus Cassidy is a godsend.”

“Mhm…and Mister Finnegan is someone you call when you need to be knocked down a peg or two.” (Y/N) glanced at him, eyes full of mirth as she quipped, “So I’ve been deigned the fool maid, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m beginning to think that you’re the village idiot.” At that, Shay’s head fell back as unbridled laughter fell from him; she couldn’t help but laugh with him.

When they calmed, they were both wiping stray tears from their cheeks, and she leaned over, resting her head on his arm. She said nothing, but he didn’t need her to, silently taking one of her hands in his. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand and he murmured, “I’ve missed your company, (Y/N).”

For a moment, she didn’t offer a response, then she said, “You have?”

“I have…I’ve thought about it a lot.” He shifted slightly and she raised her head to look at him. “I’ve thought about you, a lot.”

If those were the golden words she’d been waiting for, she didn’t show it in the way he expected. (Y/N) gently pulled away and rose. “It’s getting rather late, Shay. You really should get back to the fort in case you’re needed.”

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed, though it wasn’t unexpected. He stood, brushing off his pants. “I’ll walk back with you.”

“Don’t bother,” she rejected. “I’ve a few more errands to run before I have to return. You should go on ahead without me.”

“(Y/N)—” he started, but she was already walking off in the opposite direction, and Shay sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Blast.” He muttered, before calling, “Will you be back soon?”

She didn’t turn around, simply waved a hand in return, offering, “Be safe, Shay.”

#shay cormac x reader #shay cormac imagine #shay cormac imagines #shay cormac x reader imagine #shay cormac x reader imagines #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed rogue #assassins creed rogue imagine #assassins creed rogue imagines #ac rogue #ac rogue imagine #ac rogue imagines #shay cormac #haytham kenway #christopher gist #cassidy finnegan #barry finnegan

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Sleep

Cliff Booth x reader

Word Count: 2.2 (OKAY WOW)

Warnings: insomnia, passing out,

Author’s Note: Everything I write for Cliff (and brad at this point wow) makes me so damn happy and I just think they’re my best work so here’s this and I am REALLY hoping you like it as much as I do because CLIFF!

Requested: by anon, My goodness, you're killing me with all your writing! 😍 I have finally watched Once Upon a Time, and I have been hit HARD by Brad. What about a Cliff Booth x actress and insomniac reader? They know each other bc she works on a lot of the same shows and movies as Rick, and she's always with him during breaks or scenes without her. Her usual lack of sleep gives her more time to really learn her lines and character, and nobody but Cliff knows the real reason why she's such a great actress? (1/2)She only ever catches a wink of sleep when she's around Cliff, nodding off against him during lunch. He worries for her, but won't say anything in fear of losing these moments, until one day she faints on set? Tysm and ily 😭 (2/2)

Summary: the request!

Genre: FLUFFF

(not my gif) (again the banner was made by @mychemicalimagines :) )

You sat beside Rick, brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes and then wiping the sleep out of your eyes.

“You ready Y/L/N?” one of the interviewers asked and you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face. You were dead tired but you knew that promo was easier than acting out the grueling scene you had to do later after lunch anyway so you forced yourself to enjoy this moment.

“Yeah I’m good. You ready Dalton?” you asked, hitting his arm. He gave you a genuine smile and shrugged.

“Ready as I’ll e-ever be.”

The interviewer began to roll the camera and you smiled at it as he introduced the two of you as thought the watchers didn’t already know who you were.

“This is Rick Dalton and Y/N Y/L/N, Hollywood stars who often share many projects together like the one they are both starring in now, Moonlight Kisses. What is it like working with someone you know so closely so often Rick?” the interviewer asked, a smile plastered on his face. You snorted at the insinuation that you and Rick were closer than friends. You did work on projects together often but that was because you shared taste in movies and in stunt doubles. You loved his, Cliff, and whenever you got the chance to work with him you would. The three of you had become quite close over time.

“Well, she’s a wonderful scene partner but I t-think she prefers scenes with my s-stuntman Cliff,” he joked and you smiled at his honesty. Cliff, who was a few feet off camera watching the two of you chuckled a little to himself. The interview made a big show of his laughter and you strained a tired smile.

“Is that true Y/N?”

“That I adore his stuntman? Hell yeah, Cliff gets me through the day but I would be lying if I said Rick wasn’t fun to work with too,” you said, smiling over at Rick and Cliff.

“And how do you get into character? With working with similar people and all?” the interviewer asked, addressing you. You laughed, thinking about the late sleepless nights you spent grueling over characters because you couldn’t sleep. You had bad insomnia and when you got the chance to invest more in a role you got it. Granted, the only person you had told that to was Cliff.

“You know, the regular stuff. Looking over the script with a fine tooth comb and talking with my boys,” you said, gesturing to Rick and Cliff.

The interview lasted a little longer and then you were both free to get ready for lunch and the scene after lunch. You tried to do a lot of your own stunts and you had to do some stuff with Cliff after lunch that you weren’t sure you could handle. You knew you were safe but still, you didn’t understand how your friend was so fearless.

You got off of the interview chair and was swarmed with hair people who wanted everything to be right after lunch. You however had already decided to make a beeline over for Cliff and he was waiting, holding your bag of lunch and his.

“Can we do this a little later? I gotta grab some stuff first,” you told your hair lady, Gina. She gave you a look but when she saw Cliff approaching you she backed off. Everyone knew Cliff and Y/N time was time to be uninterrupted.

“Come right after you finish eating.”

“I promise.”

She went away and you walked over to Cliff. You grabbed your bag out of his hand and he threw his arm around you, holding most of your weight.

“If I had a nickel every time you or Rick brought me up in an interview,” he muttered as you walked together to your trailer. You rolled your eyes and had a genuine smile grace your face.

“We like you, what can I say.”

You forced the door open and Cliff sat down at your corner bed and you sat beside him. He wrapped his arm around you, turning on your radio and letting the lights music travel through the room.

You didn’t last long before your head was in his lap. You told him you had every intention of eating and being ready for the scene after lunch but he brushed your hair once and you were out.

Cliff didn’t tell you but he often worried about you. You only ever slept when he was around for whatever reason and he enjoyed having that honor but he wanted you to be healthy, especially with how hard your work was sometimes.

Your even breathing on his lap made him sigh and he brushed your hair back, making circles into your back. He thought about how often you did this at lunch, falling asleep on his shoulder if you were at lunch outside, cuddling into his side. It was the highlight of his day, those moments with you.

But still, he wanted you to sleep at night not just whenever you got the chance on set. It was what made you such a great actress but he was confident you would still be great if you got a regular healthy sleep schedule.

It wasn’t 30 minutes later when there was a hard knock on the door that woke you up. Cliffs hawian shirt was over your body and as you sat up and walked over to the door you held it close to you, causing him to smile a little to himself.

Gina came crashing in, swearing and swinging her hair dryer.

“I told you to come when you finished lunch 15 minutes ago. Cliff you need to go get changed to,” she ordered and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, nodding. Cliff stood up and you went to hand him his shirt but he shook his head.

“Keep it, I’ll grab it after the scene.” You nodded, smiling at him. He kissed your forehead and was gone, going to get changed. Gina sat you down on the hair and make-up chair and groaned, fluffing your tangley hair from sleep.

“I don’t know why you don’t just sleep with that man,” she muttered, still obviously angry that you hadn’t gotten her for her to do your hair. You rolled your eyes.

“Gina, he wouldn’t want to-”

“This is his shirt yes? And he just kissed you on the forehead yes? He brings you lunch everyday, lets you fall asleep on him when he has conversations, never spends a moment he has spare with anyone else, yes?” You purse your lips and shrugged. She started brushing out your hair.

“I’ll have to live through this stunt if I wanna ever ask him out.” She let in a nervous breath.

“Yes.”

20 minutes later you were on set, getting ready to get in the car with Cliff. He was going to drive you around a hard chase scene course that you and Rick had filmed his parts earlier. It was easier for you to really grasp the scene if you were scared while doing it. You trusted Cliff though.

You put your hands on the top of the car, looking at Cliff as he was about to get in.

“Drive safe huh?” you teased. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head forward.

“Yes ma’am.”

You got into the car together and he started it up. In action he was driving forward. You got into character, grabbing the window and looking outside of it as a camera followed close to your face.

“The damn cowb..” you felt your head get dizzy and tried to force yourself to finish the line. “Cow...cowboys..”

Cliff barely caught you as you fell limp, half out of the car and half in it. He stopped the car quickly and unbuckled you, forcing you back in the car.

“Y/N? Hey babe, come on,” he muttered, his worry increasing with each passing moment. He moved your face around but you were out.

Some people came in and then the doctors showed up, taking you to the on site infirmary. They gave you some fluids and placed you in the bed. Cliff and Rick were confined outside the room as the doctors did some tests, talking in the room, making both boys more worried then they ever had been.

One of the doctors came out and both Rick and Cliff and the majority of the cast and crew grew attentive to it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Cliff asked, voice laced with worry. The doctor sighed and looked back in the window at you in the bed, still out.

“Fatigue is what we’re guessing. We’ll know more when she wakes up.” Cliff let out a sigh of relief that was immediately taken over with guilt that he had let you do the scene in the first place.

“She has insomnia, she doesn’t get much sleep,” he explained to the doctor.

“You her husband?” Half the crowd snorted and Cliff was very aware of it but he ignored it.

“No, friend.”

“Ah well, if you could go through some things about her schedule with me it might help us treat her.” Cliff nodded and followed the doctor to your room. .

You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy as you looked around the room. You saw Cliff standing there with Rick and the director.

“You should have said she wasn’t sleeping-” the director was saying and you tried to sit up a bit to understand what was going on.

“Cliff?” The boys looked over and Cliff rushed to your side, getting on his knees beside your bed.

“I’ll get the m-med,” Rick announced and was gone.

“You can’t be putting yourself in that danger without sleeping Y/N,” the director chastised and you squinted at him.

“What happened?”

“You were hanging out the car and fuckin passed out,” Cliff grumbled. You raised an eyebrow and laughed a little.

“Damn. Did they get it on camera?” The director scoffed, annoyed.

“You need to sleep.”

“I do sleep thanks. Can you give me a moment?” you asked him and he thought about it before leaving you and Cliff alone. You let out a sigh of relief.

“He is right. We gotta figure something out, you gotta get some more sleep in babe,” he told you. You nodded, grabbed his hand as you noticed how worried he was.

“I know. I’m sorry I scared you.” He shook his head but you raised your hand and brushed it through his hair, smiling.

“Why don’t you get some rest? Those tests can wait.” You nodded, yawning. You felt deadly tired and knew if you were going to bounce back you needed to be rested more than usual.

“Can you stay?” You swallowed. “I sleep best with you there,” you said shyly. He smiled and nodded.

“Scoot over.” You moved to the side and he got into bed beside you. You put your head on his chest and eased into his touch as he put his arm around your back and began rubbing your back softly. He placed a long kiss on your head and his lips rested there after, making you recall the conversation you had with Gina earlier.

“Cliff?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” His breath hitched.

“I love you too babe.”

You both smiled and you fell asleep peacefully then, having a better sleep than you had in years.

Cliff : @satanslov3r

#cliff booth x reader #cliff booth imagines

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granpafrisbee · 5 years

Text

Truth or Dare Part 1

Warnings: Cussing

Word Count: 3,752 (it’s gonna get longer tho)

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Masterlist

Summary: After going to Italy and avoiding any romantic relationships for pretty much all her life Joey comes back to the U.S. to move in with her life-long best friend, Sam Wilson, and his two closest friends from college. Joey’s met Steve but is apprehensive to meet the elusive Bucky, whom she’s always missed despite having visited Sam consistently throughout college. Once she meets him, however, she wonders how she’ll be able to run from love when they share a bathroom.

A/N: Hey, so I'll be updating this most Wednesdays. I'll try my hardest to stay regular.

I wrote this using an OFC bc I cannot work my brain to replace my name with fucking Y/N and I know I'm not the only one. (I always end up reading it as fucking "yuuhnnumm"). I am fully in love with Zazie Beetz so our OFC is completely based on her except maybe a lil chubbier because why not. Really for the apartment just picture the layout of the New Girl loft.

I always have a confusing time picturing characters in fics so I'm gonna lay it out for y'all. Steve is full nomad, them honey brown locks and the full beard. Joey's hair is natural like Zazie so often wears it. Bucky is just Seb in fall/winter 2017 because I am weak for the I, Tonya press tour look. Sam is Mackie's classic look. The rest of the characters can be left to the imagination.

Also I mention good music so listen to that if you want. Please let me know if you like this and follow my hot garbage tumblr.

Special thanks to @buckybarnesxoxo for asking to be tagged!

the AO3

Stay Sexy

It’s the bathroom that really impresses Joey. She believed Sam when he said the apartment was nice. On seeing it for the first time when moving in, she discovers that her best friend is distinctly incorrect. A working sink is nice. A proper heater is nice. A nearby laundromat is nice. This loft, this four-bedroomed palace, is exquisite in comparison to her previous abodes. The kitchen has all its necessary appliances. There are a washer and dryer in unit. The walls are thick enough that if Sam was stabbed in his neighboring room, she would maybe hear it. Four bedrooms with their very own closets. All of these have her speechless as she tours around. However, as stated above, it’s the bathroom that is killer. The idea of sharing said room with three men is maybe one of the more foreboding aspects of her new sweet digs, but once she sees the giant clawfoot shower and tub, she is sure the positives will heavily outweigh the negatives.

She immediately slides down into her new porcelain palace. She’s a medium height at 5’6”, and even she has to point her toes to touch the far end of the tub. She sighs comfortably and is already planning an essential oils combination for her first real bath when the door swings open and her fantasy is interrupted by one her new roommates. He’s the one she hasn’t met yet but Sam and Steve have shown her plenty of pictures. His hair looks soft and well-coiffed and he wears a tank top under an unbuttoned striped short sleeve button down. Rather than judgment appearing across his abnormally handsome face, he smiles like there was nothing else he could have expected when entering the bathroom.

“You see I specifically told Steve to get a bathtub that doesn’t come with a human.”

“Oh no, you got it all wrong. I’m actually a ghost here to haunt you but hygienically. Instead of boo, I say floss.” She says without a beat and he nods, very seriously, in response to this.

“You know I’m pretty sure I just carried in a bed to our fourth room that might be more comfortable than the tub, but who am I to judge one’s preferred sleeping arrangements.” His quip is followed by another fantastic smile, and based on the past ten seconds of her life Joey is absolutely sure that this is her kind of human.

She smiles back and extends her hand from the tub. “Joey.”

“Bucky,” He shakes her hand and nods again.

“You guys brought up my bed? I told Samuel to let me handle that shit.”

He laughs and scratches his beard, “Ah just gave me another opportunity to show Sam how much stronger I am than him. And Steve the chance to show up both of us.”

Joey chuckles and silently appreciates how Bucky balanced his dig on Sam with some light self-depreciation of himself. Although it would be unrealistic to pretend that anyone was stronger than Steve. The man is built. “Seriously though, I’ll come help y’all out. I’m not gonna be the useless roommate.” She gets out of the tub and starts out the door.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, I think Sammy’s got that title covered, Darlin’.” He follows her out and therefore doesn’t see her face cringe at the pet name.

She considers calling him on it when Sam yells from the front door, “I know you’re not in there besmirching me to my very own best friend Barnes,” He enters view sweaty and smiling, “And I especially know she wasn’t participating, because she is my best friend and therefore automatically on my side.” He wraps his arm protectively around her shoulders causing her to shrug away from him with her nose scrunched.

“Consider our friendship on sabbatical until you take a shower, Wilson.” Joey continues backing away.

“Jesus I always knew your personality stank but I guess the inside always comes out huh.” Bucky mirrors Joey’s disgusted face as he walks towards the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, “Not funny.” Although the involuntary “Hah!” Joey lets out at Bucky’s comment seems to contradict his statement. Sam just flips her off.

“Thank you, Doll. You see Sammy, even your best friend thinks I’m right.” Bucky mocks as he heads back outside.

This time Sam sees her face twist in reaction to the nickname. Misinterpreting it he grumbles, “Oh come on there’s no way you can smell me from over there.” He starts to head to his room, presumably for deodorant.

Joey follows Bucky downstairs to help with some more furniture moving. Steve is outside their building, ass in the air, bent over picking something up. “Damn Rogers,” Joey calls out appreciatively, “If I knew I’d be getting a view like that I would have shacked up with you years ago.”

He stands up, holding up an entire bookshelf on his own, further challenging the poor under armor shirt that is being stretched to hell on his giant frame. “Hey killer, thanks for joining us.”

She picks up a lamp and smiles at him, “Well I figured you guys needed the extra muscle.”

His smile is bright against his beard as he walks into the house with the ease of a man who isn't carrying a bookshelf.

The four of them finish loading their sporadic furniture into the loft and the afternoon fades to early evening. An old but amazing and huge high-quality leather sectional provided by Steve’s mom. Sam’s flat screen, whom he’s named Esmeralda, and may or may not have a near sexual attraction to. Bucky’s records and a player that’s older than any of them, plus a big wooden dinner table his Dad handmade. Steve’s varied level of completed canvases and paint stuff. Joey’s shelves and chairs she found on the side of the road her senior year in college. A mix of plates, bowls, and utensils have been loaded into varying drawers and cabinets. As well as cooking instruments, although, beyond Joey’s waffle iron and an old cast iron from Steve, it’s all Sam’s. Everyone’s personal boxes and furniture is piled in their own rooms.

Joey sits on the kitchen island as the boys lean against it, all sipping the cheap beer Joey bought as penance for them carrying her bed in. She takes that moment to appreciate the weird chain of events that got her where she is now. She and Sam have been friends since grade school. They went to different colleges but remained good ol’ buddies throughout. When they graduated Joey traveled around and did an apprenticeship with an Italian glassblower. Sam went to Culinary school, and when he graduated the second time around Joey was offered a job with a world-renowned blower (god she will never get tired of calling her profession that) stateside. After little luck finding a two bedroom inexpensive enough for the two of them, Steve, one of Sam’s old college buddies Joey had met many a time during visits, mentioned his friend's dad owned a couple lofts in the neighborhood they were looking in. Sam toured with Steve and Bucky and the three of them signed the lease that day. Sam called Joey that night and announced he was so confident that he forged her signature. He was insistent that it was the best option they’d find, all Steve is a good guy and fellow artist, and even Bucky is sometimes bearable but don’t tell him that. Steve paints and sketches in his free time and works as a personal trainer to pay the bills. Joey knows he isn’t passionate about it, but with his perfect body and matching attitude, she is sure he is fantastic at his job. Sam is starting at a new restaurant with a name Joey can only pronounce thanks to high school French. A plus for living with Sam is that he brings work home with him. Although Joey had visited Sam plenty over the years and even struck up a solid friendship with Steve, she always seems to have missed Bucky. They had never met but she knew he was a language major with a focus in Eastern Europe and Russia. Sam had told her Bucky translated English books into Russian and vice versa and made more money than he should. Earlier Joey had heard him curse in some sort of Slavic tongue when Sam “accidentally” dropped his end of a coffee table on Bucky’s foot. She also had heard a few stories about Steve and Bucky’s childhood, the rambunctious troublemakers lived up to every tall tale. As the four nursed their beers she felt confident that this was going to be a very important group of people in her life.

“Joey?” Sam snapped her out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“Barnes suggested we get more beer and pizza and invite some friends over. Are you down?” The three men looked at her expectantly.

“I say hell yeah. Who are we calling?” She looked down at her watch and was surprised to see it was only 6:30.

“Well there are the couples, Nat and Wanda and Thor and Bruce,” Steve suggested.

“I told Shuri I’d pay her in alcohol if she set up all the tech shit,” Bucky adds.

Steve nods, “Now that you mention it, we should probably invite Tony, he’s the reason we got this place.”

“Tony means at least Rhodey and probably Pep, Clint is a must, and if we invite Wanda we should call Pietro too.” Sam finishes his beer and scrolls through his messages.

“Brunnhilde and Okoye are in town too.” Joey hops off the counter and recycles the empty bottles collecting on the island.

“Alright you guys decide who to invite, and I’ll go get libations and sustenance,” Bucky grabs his keys.

“With the list we’ve got you’ll need some help, I’ll come with,” Joey volunteers.

Bucky smiles vibrantly and nods towards to Steve, “You okay babysitting Rogers?”

“As long as Killer doesn’t mind your unreasonably picky ass,” Steve’s retort is so quick that Bucky and Sam raise their middle fingers simultaneously at their aggravator.

Joey and Bucky decide to start off to the pizzeria three blocks away and pick up the beer on the walk back. The walk begins in mildly uncomfortable silence.

“So… you’re picky?” Joey asks to spark some sort of conversation.

“Nooo..” Bucky’s defensiveness creates an endearing drawl, “Those two pompous asses just don’t understand that I like my pizza simple. Margherita pizza is a fucking gift. Who am I to screw it up with a bunch of American bullshit?” He gestures widely as he speaks.

“You’re kidding right?”

Bucky’s must have misinterpreted her smile as he quickly responds, “Alright I’ve been judged enough in my life, I know you lived in Italy and-”

“No, no, Bucky!” She grabs his forearm, “Margherita is my favorite! I ate it all the time in Italy, judgment-free.”

“Jesus Christ Doll, where have you been all my life?”

She smiles and they continue a brisk pace to the pizza place. “How did you know I lived in Italy?”

“Ah, I know plenty about you. Sammy talks about you non-stop, has since I met him. Steve even thought he was secretly in love with you until he hung out with you in person.”

This makes Joey raise her brows, “Really? Wow. What, if I may ask, ultimately caused him to accept our relationship as extraordinarily platonic? Was it the sibling-like side hugs? The lack of sexual tension in our banter? The fact that I knew him during his first mustache phase?”

“Are you telling me there was a skinnier mustache than the one we know and mildly tolerate?”

“I’m talking Prince but pubescent. It was so thin models asked his mustache for dieting tips. It was so thin his first girlfriend thought he had an eyelash over his top lip. I mean you would’ve thought he drew it on with a ballpoint pen. In fact, it’s very possible it was. Just because I never saw doesn’t mean he never-”

Bucky is laughing uproariously, “Please, please, you’re killing me. I’m gonna need pictures as soon as possible.”

“No can do. I will recite the epic of the mustache homer-style until the day I die, but any physical evidence shared will prompt an all-out war between Samuel and me. That is just something I can’t afford.”

“Oh now I have to see them. What’s your secret shame, sweetheart? Bangs? Braces? Please tell me it was an emo phase,” As he lists off he starts walking backward, the goofy smile didn't dim once.

“I’ll never share, but trust me when I say if you find something behind my back, I’m sure Steve will be more than willing to share some pictures of your past. Emo phase is a good guess, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say that was a projection, hmm?”

That does a good job of replacing his smile with pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow, contemplating his next move in this battle of embarrassing adolescence. “Steve would never betray me.”

“Don’t be so sure, all men have their weaknesses,” She smiles deviously.

“Oh yeah, you gonna seduce him for a picture of me in eyeliner?”

“First of all, I would seduce Steve for much less so thanks for confirming my emo theories. Secondly, I may not know Steve like you do, but I know him well enough to see that seduction would hardly prove fruitful.” She holds the door open for him and they both bask in the practically orgasmic scent of the pizzeria, “Steve is so suspicious of anyone who wants to sleep with him that he’d see through me. My method would be to trick him to do some sort of high school ‘Where are they now?’ portrait. He’d be so inspired he’d paint your lined eyes and black, I’m guessing, over parted hair in a second.” The line is moving slowly and he admires how she never lowers her volume or hides from strangers eyes.

“Damn, Doll, you’re good.”

“I minored in manipulation.” The store isn’t too packed for Saturday night and Sam Cooke is playing lightly in the background. She’s nodding her head and he’s mouthing along to words and when they both realize this they share a smile at the music.

“So Steve is a suspicious mind in your book?” She chuckles at his reference.

“I’m not the biggest drinker and neither is Steve, so when Sammy went hard when I visited, Steve was always good for a tipsy talk. The poor guy has the same self-esteem he must have had in high school. Unlike us three cool cats Steve will show me pictures of his past self. I know you were there through it all, but just because the outside changes doesn’t mean the inside follows suit. I have seen the most dedicated and gorgeous women throw themselves at him and yet he remains sure that she was ‘just being friendly’. It’s actually impressive.”

“I know what you mean. To be fair though a lot of that is just his college girlfriend. She really did a number on him.” He runs a hand through his hair but doesn’t hide his contempt for whoever she is.

Solemn surprise covers Joey’s features, “I never knew. Never met her on any visits.”

“She wasn’t big on him talking to other girls, probably hid him anytime you came around. Although that isn’t my story to tell, I’m sure the punk will tell you about it sometime.” She follows his eye line down to his shoes. He’s drawing stars with the tip of his shoe, a tic she’s just noticing.

“What about you? You have a girl hiding you away, distracting you during your collegiate years? She the reason our meeting was so unluckily delayed until today?”

He thinks about the answer for a second or two. “Nah, no anchor to this ship. At this point, I’m just convinced Wilson just didn’t tell me you were around because he knew you would like me more than him.”

“Well turns out I like Steve better than both of you.”

He puts his hands up and reassures her, “I don’t need to be first, Sweetheart, just as long as I’m on your radar.” As he lowers his hands the song changes and they simultaneously recognize the song, both begin humming the initial notes. “Penny & The Quarters fan huh?” He asks.

“Nobody, baby, but-” she sings before quickly turning her attention to the cashier, “We’ll have two large Everything Pizzas and one large Margherita.” Facing Bucky again she smiles and drops another line that makes his heart race, “Just for you and me, huh?”

The pizza is out quick, and a trip to the local gas station provides them with more than enough beer. They continue discussing music, Joey is surprised at their similarly irregular taste. He describes his favorite Etta James songs, but can’t forget the Simon and Garfunkel song that he thinks is his first love encapsulated. He lists his top three favorite rappers after ranking contemporary folk bands. She adds in her opinions sporadically, and he apologizes twice for dominating the conversation when they get in the elevator.

She is being honest when she says, “There’s nothing I want to hear more than whatever you’re going to say right this moment.” He thinks that every lyric in every song he’s just listed doesn’t have shit on that sentence.

He’s about to tell her so when an alarming large hand last minute catches the elevator as it closes. The doors open to the Thor and Bruce. The couple is the lynchpin of every good party, from rager to kickback. Thor is the greatest hype man in history but is never hammered, probably because it would take two handles of tequila to get him there. Bruce is much more chill but a secret god at beer pong, not to mention he always has weed. Bucky’s favorite part of their presence always happens when Bruce is particularly high and begins a lecture on some sort of subject no one else understands. He isn’t exactly captivating, especially not to anyone far from sober although his passion is palpable, but Thor will plop down on the couch next to him and watch him like he’s the only thing in the universe (while rubbing Bruce’s neck to keep him from getting too wound up). Bucky loves those guys.

“Looks like we arrived just in time, wouldn’t you say Thor?” Bruce shakes Bucky’s hand and smiles at Joey.

“Of course! I was worried we got too much pizza, but now that you’re here Thor I’m sure you’ll help us with any surplus.” Joey sets the pizzas down before Thor pulls her into a bear hug.

“Joey, you know I never leave a damsel in distress,” Thor agrees as he sets her back on her feet.

Joey’s eyebrow playfully shoots up, “Who are you calling damsel, Odinson?”

“In this case, definitely Sam. I’m surprised he even let you order out.” Bruce answers for his boyfriend.

“My love is right in my insinuation. Never ever have I seen you anywhere near damsel status Joe.” Bucky watches their interaction with curiosity.

The elevator dings and Bucky asks, “This may seem like a dumb question but how do you guys know each other? Just through Sam?”

Joey picks up the pizzas as Thor holds the door open, ”Thor’s siblings and I were all in a group home together as teens. I’ve known this big lug long before he was the Nordic party god we see before us.” Thor laughs and he and Bruce go to greet everyone inside.

“Are you telling me Thor hasn’t always been a blonde beefcake?” Bucky whispers in Joey’s ear as they set the pizza and beer on the counter.

“Sadly no, he’s looked like that since I met him. I just like making that joke because he’s too humble to care.” She makes note that he doesn’t question the foster home part of her story. She wonders just what Sam has told him about her past.

People start to crowd the food and drinks, so Joey and Bucky greet everyone who has arrived. Nat is there sans Wanda, who is at home sick. Bucky knows this means Nat will be leaving early. Pietro made it despite his ill sibling, but he still looks pretty sick of the conversation in front of him. Shuri and Clint are mid-argument about the chicken and the egg when Bucky thanks them for coming. Clint gives him a smile and points to a fake succulent on the table and mumbles, “Got you guys a housewarming present,” before returning his attention to telling Shuri that the Chicken is the obvious choice. Shuri tells Bucky she set up the wifi and the apple tv and Clint doesn’t even register that she’s talking over him. Bucky kisses her cheek and hands her a beer.

Steve is sitting with Bruce and Thor on the couch, all of them engrossed in conversation and pizza. Sam is chopping fresh onion for his pizza when Bucky asks, “These are the few you could bribe to get here?”

“These losers are the only ones without any plans on a Saturday night,” Sam says without looking up.

Clint and Pietro both look up and say a simultaneous, “Hey!” Before turning their attention back to their conversation.

“T’Challa and Nakia are in Paris. Brunnhilde has a gig tonight. Okoye hung up on me when I said pizza and beer. Parker has an exam. Tony named six events he was invited to tonight and would’ve kept going if Steve hadn’t hung up. Pepper and Rhodey are probably plus thing one and two wherever Tony ended up at. Thus, this motley crew is all we got.” Sam sprinkles his diced onion on top of his already spilling slice and when he bites into it his groan stops the conversations surrounding the apartment.

“Lame. Your intestines are not going to be thanking you for that monster you are devouring under the alias of pizza.” Joey makes a face as he continues to stuff his face.

“Like eating just mozzarella and basil is enjoyable at all,” Sam dismisses her and joins the rest of their crew.

“Heathens,” Bucky dramatically admonishes their friends, “You ready Doll?”

This time he catches the tightening of her expression at his comment, ”Born ready.” They both grab a piece of their untouched pizza and taps crusts in cheers.

Part 2

Part 3

Thanks for reading!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky x ofc #marvel au #modern au #roommate au #bucky roommate au #steve rogers #captain america #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #sam wilson #zazie beetz #bucky x poc

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your-modern-shakespeare · 6 years

Text

A Little Too Real (6)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5, Part 5

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show is planning a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition starts he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls…on the show anyway.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 5066

A/N: So I know that this is a long time coming but I hope that this is good. I’ve had a big writer’s block problem but I feel like I’m getting past it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and Happy Halloween!

Warnings: angst, a little fluff, hospital stuff, mentions of injury, car crash details, I don’t know what else

Tags: @fangirl1802, @seargantbcky, @lust-for-pan, @38leticia, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @karipaleta, @capandbuck, @camillechan, @findacauseandserveit, @audasia25, @kendallefire , @alicerozenju, @snuggleducky, @mell-bell, @lifeasabookbutterfly, @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi, @iamwarrenspeace

Y/N’S POV

I remember the car accident, that wasn’t the problem. It was how bad I wanted to wake up, but couldn’t. The accident played in a loop in my head, over and over again and I had no understanding of what was happening outside of my head.

You know those movies where people get stuck in a coma and leave their bodies and try to figure out why they couldn’t get back and they look in on their loved ones and whatever else happens? That was not this. It was me and my head hashing it out for consciousness.

But just when I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I started to hear something else.

“She’s going to be fine. You heard what the doctor said.” Steve?

“It doesn’t make me feel any better, no matter how much he reassures me. I mean look at her, she’s bound to be in a lot of pain.” Hearing Bucky’s voice simultaneously made me feel calmer and more excited. He was here, waiting for me.

“We won’t know until she wakes up.”

“Yeah.”

“She is going to wake up.”

“I know.”

I don’t exactly remember when everything happened, like time of day and how long I had been at the hospital, but according to what Bucky had said, he had stayed up most of the night, waiting for me to wake up. And trying to think really hard about the order of things, I realized that I missed filming and his mother’s birthday party. So not only did I feel bad physically, but also bad emotionally.

It wasn’t until the next day that I woke up and honestly it was terrifying. Apparently it had been too early and I ended up panicking when I started to choke on the tube running down my throat. I don’t know what I would have done if Bucky hadn’t been there.

Very quickly did the nurses come running in to help me, but as I tried to pull the tube out myself, Bucky was there to hold my hands and keep me from hurting myself. I just remember him repeating that I was okay and I just kept my eyes on him as the nurses took out the tube. But also one of things that made waking up early harder was that breathing by myself still hurt like hell. But the nurses also saw that, so instead of just having the tube of oxygen under my nose they gave me a mask that gave me more oxygen to help steady my breathing. The nurses left the room and Bucky started to move away from me, but I grabbed his hand and held it as tight as I could, hoping that he could see on my face how much I needed him to stay by my side.

He moved his hand to wrap around mine and gave me a small smile.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He said. He let go of my hand just for a second so that he could move the chair back over to the side of the bed before sitting down and grabbing my hand again.

The nurses came back in, a lot sooner than expected, giving me some pain medication that made me very tired. As much as I didn’t want to go back to sleep it was too hard to keep my eyes open. Right before I passed out I wrapped my hand back around Bucky’s so that, hopefully, he wouldn’t leave me while I slept. I didn’t want to be alone.

BUCKY’S POV

I couldn’t get her terrified look out of my head. She looked so lost and scared and she, without saying anything at all, begged me to stay by her side, to not leave her alone. So that’s what I did.

Steve came and went, Peggy came by and dropped off a bag of personal items from her apartment, and my mom kept calling non stop wanting information about my “friend.” She didn’t really imply air quotes but it was the way that she said friend that made me think that she thought otherwise.

Anyway, though Y/N didn’t have the tube down her throat anymore they did have her hooked up to an oxygen mask to help her get air easier, hopefully put less stress on the torn lung. But the longer that she slept the more worried I grew. I just wanted to know that she was okay, I wanted to take her home and help her feel as normal as possible, help her get back to herself.

The doctor had come in several times to check in on her and he explained to me some of the things that I would have to help her with after her discharge.

For one, she would most likely be in a wheelchair until she had less chest pain, enough to use crutches. I would also have to watch her very closely after we left the hospital for any signs of distress, breathing difficulties, excess pain or anything else that seemed out of the ordinary for someone who tore both her lung and diaphragm, like I knew exactly what that entailed. But overall it made me nervous, not only because I was now put in charge of what happened to Y/N but also because I had to make sure that she didn’t die on my watch.

You know, I could handle the broken leg and helping her get around, I mean I had done it with my arm for a long time. But making sure that her lung didn’t recollapse or that her diaphragm doesn’t rupture was a big load to carry on my shoulders. One that I was happy to do, but very nervous about.

So as she slept longer and longer I just watched her and prayed to anybody listening that she would be okay soon. But seeing her like that, just so lost to everything happening, made me kind of into a wreck and I’m pretty sure Steve saw it. He never said anything but he did little things to help me out. Like he brought me clean clothes and coffee and food and every couple of hours he would try to convince me to sleep but I never listened to him.

With that, I never had any reason to leave the room, so I had a lot of time to think about things, especially my latest revelation.

I loved her.

The longer I sat there, the longer I thought about how stupid I had been. Ever since the moment I had met her I knew that there was something special about her. But I had pushed everything down because I had been scared that my feelings would get in the way of us working together. Still, despite my best my efforts, I was hopelessly in love with her and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But I had almost lost her...I couldn't imagine my life without her and I had almost lost her.

So how would I keep someone as important as her in my life and not tell her that I love her? How would I keep her safe and make her happy without her being mine? How do I move on from here?

I was torn away from my rampant thoughts when I heard a labored intake of breath.

“Y/N?” I called out and moved closer to her side. She was messing with her wires and trying to pull the mask off of her face, she was clearly disoriented.

I grabbed her hands to make sure she didn’t pull anything out, but she pulled her hand out of mine and moved her mask down so that I could hear her better.

“You’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” I moved the mask back down over her nose and mouth, making sure thats she was breathing again.

I sat by her bedside and told her everything that had happened since I found her in the hospital. So far she hadn’t said anything to me, just listened to everything I had to say, welcoming the distraction. But as I reached the most present instant before her waking up, she took her mask off again and took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry...I missed—”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not upset that you weren’t there.”

“You’re a liar.”

“How do you know me so well?” She smiled just a bit before she moved the mask back on her face. “I admit that I was a little upset, but knowing what I know now...I’m just glad that you're okay, because honestly I...I don’t know what my life would be like without you in it.” She grabbed my hand and looked at me like she was happy.

As the next few hours passed she started to breath better and better. She said that there was still some pain in her chest but the doctor said that that would be normal as she healed. And then he got to the good part.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, you’re surgery was very successful and it looks like you’re recovering a lot faster than expected. That being said, your father has asked your friend Mr. Barnes to help with your post-op care.”

“Is there a lot?”

“Well we could keep you here in the hospital and have you under 24/7 watch for the next week, make sure that what we did sticks. Or you can go home and have your friend do it.”

“Is there a lot?”

“I don’t mind helping.” I said to her.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to help, I just want to know much he would have to do.” She said to me and then the doctor.

“He will need to watch you and make sure that you’re breathing. We’ll give you a portable oxygen tank just in case you have any need for it but if something does go wrong, he will be the one to bring you back to the hospital and we will operate again. Other than that, you will need to be in a wheelchair until we can confirm that your diaphragm and lung are healed enough to use crutches. So he will be helping you get around and you may get tired of him being everywhere because he will be for the next couple of weeks. But in six to eight weeks you will get your cast removed. Until then you will need help, so you can not be afraid to ask for his help.”

“I’m not afraid to ask for help.”

“Y/N, I’ve read that people who have major surgery, tend to sink into themselves. They don’t want to burden their friends because they’re scared that they’ll lose them. You’re scared that you’ll ask for too much. So you may not be scared to ask but you’re scared that I’ll turn away from you when you reach that point.” I grabbed her hand and held it in mine. “You have done so much for me, more than I could ever repay, please don’t push me away. I want to help you.”

“You won’t run away from me?”

“No.”

Y/N and I spent the rest of the day hanging out around the hospital and she seemed to be growing stronger and stronger. She was still hooked up to oxygen but the doctors said that there was a big chance that she could go home tomorrow morning.

Steve and Peggy brought by some non hospital food for dinner and the four of us talked and Y/N laughed, even though it was little and it hurt. But it was fun...until the talk took a turn. I’m not sure how we got so serious but it brought up some good points and things that I needed to talk to Y/N about.

So when Steve and Peggy left I got Y/N’s attention and brought up what had been going through my mind.

“I think you should move in with me...during the recovery.” I blurted.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, kind of like making a mental pros-cons list, so just hear me out. I’m going to have to watch you very closely over the next week and this is serious. I’ve been talking to the doctor and he’s shown me things to look out for and there's a lot that could happen to you and I need you...to be okay.”

“Bucky do you know why I was hesitant at first when the doctor said that you would be the one to help me with my recovery?”

“No, why?”

“You are my best friend. My best friend. I was so excited to see you here because I was hoping that you would do what you did when I woke up. You told me what was happening with everyone, you talked to me like we were at work and while you talked to me I forgot about the images flashing through my head. And then the doctor comes in and starts talking about my recovery and you disappear. I know that you’re worried but I don’t need whoever that was earlier, I need my friend. What’s about to happen...I’m scared.” She took in as deep a breath as she could as the tears started to form in her eyes. “I can feel where they cut into me...what they did to me and I’m scared by what the doctor said because I don’t want anything to happen again. So I don’t need you to be my doctor or my babysitter, I need you to be my friend. I need you to make me forget the accident, I need you to not treat me differently and I need you to support me and keep me breathing. You said you needed me, but I need you, I need you Bucky.”

She had a few tears running down her cheeks and her breathing was ragged, she was clearly upset by what I had said and I felt terrible about it. I grabbed her hand and made sure she was looking at me.

“I'm here for you, whatever you need from me, and I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I’m not trying to change what we have and if you want me to talk your ear off, I’ll talk your ear off. But I’m worried too and I’m scared that I’ll do something wrong and it helps me to think about this as if I know everything that could possibly happen to you. The doctor wants to release you in the morning and I really wanted to get all of this doctor talk and the medical preparations done here so that I don’t have to bring it out of there. Your recovery shouldn’t be about that, so I’ve been preparing now so we don’t have to deal with it later. I know that we are going to be okay because once we get out of this god forsaken hospital everything will go back to semi-normal. We’ll figure things out as we go and we’ll keep everything fun and easy. But most importantly I’m always going to be you’re friend and I’m always going to be here for you. No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She took in a deep breath and wiped the tears off her face.

“I’m sorry for exploding like that.”

“It’s okay. All of this is overwhelming, I should have gone a little slower.”

“You’re just trying to help.”

“Yes, but what you’ve been through is traumatic and it will take you some time to adjust. I know for a fact that trying to operate with one leg will be difficult, so at least I know something about that.”

“I’m lucky that you’re helping me.”

“I’m happy I finally get to do something to pay you back. Not that I’m trying to get even but it’s nice to be able to do something for you.”

“You do a lot more than you think.”

“I would love to hear what.”

“It’s my secret.”

“Well, maybe one of these days I’ll get you to tell me. I know that you may not want to think about this right now, but I would feel more comfortable if you would move in with me for the week. I mean, logistically it would be easier to get your wheelchair through my apartment door on the first floor than your door on the second...so that’s the biggest thing. Not that I wouldn’t carry you up to your apartment but I thought it would be easier.”

“That’s fine.”

“And Peggy brought you some clothes so you should be good for at least a couple of days, maybe after work we can swing by your place if you need some more stuff.”

“You guys are too good to me.”

“We’re all here for you. We’re going to get you through this.”

“I know.”

The following morning, Sunday, the nurse helped Y/N get changed into her pajamas and gave her some tips on how to keep her cast as clean possible but as she got ready I left the hospital to get us some real food. Y/N would have to eat before she took her medicine so I figured she would want something other than gross hospital food. So as soon as she was dressed I gave her her food and I loaded my car while she ate. 20 minutes later we were out of there with discharge papers and a very doped up Y/N.

She was pretty quiet the whole ride home but I just chalked it up to the meds. She would usually take these at night so that she could pass out afterwards but the doctor said that she would make it home before that happened today.

I pulled up to my apartment and looked over at Y/N...who was completely passed out against the window. So instead of making a big fuss of the wheelchair, I just decided to carry her in and set her on my bed.

So I walked around to the passenger door, made sure she didn’t fall out when I opened the door, and picked her up. But as soon as I got up to my door I realized that I had no way to open it, so instead I kicked it really hard and hoped my mom would be home.

The door opened and she went to say something but I think she was shocked to see me standing there with a woman in my arms. So she just moved out of the way and let me inside.

“What are you—who is this?” She asked.

“This is Y/N, she’s staying with me for the week so I can make sure she doesn’t die.” I kept walking back to my room and she just followed.

“What?” I kicked open the door to my bedroom and placed Y/N on the bed. I grabbed a few pillows, propped up her leg and put the covers on top of her, making sure that she would have no reason to wake up. As soon as I got her comfortable I met my mom out in the living room where I knew I would hear either harsh words or overexcited personally invasive questions. I figured more of the second.

The first thing to come out of her was a complaint about me not calling her with enough updates but pretty much everything after that was her grilling me about Y/N. Apparently I hadn’t told her enough about Y/N because to her this “obviously seemed like something more.” It took me a while to convince her otherwise and I’m still not really sure she believes me but I needed to focus on Y/N.

So I grabbed my phone and went to sit in the chair in the corner of my room, that way I could keep a close eye on Y/N and so my mom couldn’t walk in and yell at me anymore.

So I just sat and waited, waited for her to wake up...again.

A couple of hours had passed and Y/N had woken up. She was still kind of fuzzy but...she was beautiful. She hadn’t showered, her hair was a mess, she looked exhausted but she was the most beautiful person in the world.

I moved by her side and we talked most of the day. I made her food and I introduced her to my mom...which was very nerve wracking for many reasons and yet they seemed to be getting along greatly. Y/N apologized profusely for missing the party and said that as soon as she could she would make a new batch of birthday pies for us to enjoy. But my mom made sure that she understood that we both didn’t expect anything other than her taking as much time as she needed to heal.

“You know, Bucky didn’t tell me that you would still be here, but I’m glad you are, I wanted the chance to meet you before you left.” Y/N said.

“He didn’t tell you? Yeah I’m staying over for a few days. He works too much and I don’t get to see him enough.”

“So if she’s staying in the guest room and I slept on your bed, where are you sleeping?” She asked me very accusatory.

“I am taking the couch.”

“Bucky—“

“Don’t be like that. I don’t mind.”

“Well I do.”

“Well don’t, I volunteered to help you out and luckily my couch is very comfortable.”

“And if it wasn’t?” She said now amused.

“Well of course I would have to throw you out on the street and just hope that you would make it home.”

“Oh okay, because that sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Oh yeah.” We were both smiling at the turn of the conversation and I risked a peek at my mom who was just as if not more happy at how the two of us had reacted to our disagreement.

So with that, I tried to make the most out of the time we had left in the day and gave Y/N as much normalcy as possible. We moved out to the living room and just lounged around watching movies and laughing and later my mom made us some dinner. Of course she had a secret agenda but I think I missed her home made food so much that I didn’t even bother to bring it up.

When it was time to go to bed I moved Y/N back into my room, propped her leg back up on the pillows and brought her her new nightly medication.

“So, I will be on the couch if you need me, just call out, I’ll leave the door open.” I turned to leave her for the night but she stopped me.

“Wait, Bucky?” She grabbed my hand. “I don’t want this to be weird but, will you stay with me?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah..I just don’t want to be alone.”

“This isn’t about me sleeping on the couch is it?”

“No.” She almost looked scared.

“Okay.”

So I walked around to the unoccupied side of the bed and climbed underneath the covers right next to her. She moved so that her head was resting on my chest, her arms wrapped around me, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her, feeling like she needed me to hold her.

“Are you sure everything's okay?”

“I remember everything.” She took in a deep breath. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

“Thank you.”

“Good night Y/N.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

STEVE’S POV

It was days like today that I loved. I had the day off, got to spend all of my time with Peggy and we actually fell asleep at a reasonable time.

We were both in a dead sleep until the loud ringtone of my cell woke me up. I quickly picked it up hoping to not wake Peggy.

STEVE: Hello? I whispered.

WINIFRED: Steve?

STEVE: Hey Winnie, what can I do for you?

WINIFRED: Can you come over here?

STEVE: Is everything okay?

WINIFRED: Yeah I just need you to come over here, if you don’t mind.

STEVE: Sure, I’ll be there in a bit

WINIFRED: Thanks

STEVE: No problem

I hung up the phone completely confused about what was going on.

“What did Winnie want?” Peggy asked.

“She wants me to come over to Bucky’s.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

“She does know that it’s like one in the morning.”

“She wouldn’t have asked me to come if it wasn’t important.”

“I know.”

“Just go back to bed, I’ll see what’s happening.”

“I’m already awake, it could be something good. I don’t want to miss it.”

“Maybe you're right.”

So we both got dressed and headed over to Bucky's apartment. Winnie must have been waiting for us because we didn’t even get a chance to knock on the door before it swung open.

“It’s about time you got here.” She said, leaving the door open as she marched away.

“We only live ten minutes away.” Peggy said.

We just followed Winnie and she walked towards Bucky’s room...okay, I knew what this was about.

The three of us moved to stand in the doorway of his bedroom, seeing that Y/N and Bucky were sleeping together, arms wrapped around each other, just like a couple would do. Yeah, we definitely knew what this was about.

“What is happening with him? First he tells me that they’re friends, then she is moving in for the week, and now they’re sleeping together.”

“They are friends.” Peggy started.

“But he has feelings for her.” I continued.

“And she has feelings for him.”

“Then why this dance? We should just tell them.” Winnie concluded.

“Well there are some other things that have happened.” I said.

“Like what?”

“Well…” I looked at Peggy and she shrugged. “They kissed at my birthday party, but they don’t remember.”

“Okay.”

“And they work together so I think they’re both trying to keep things professional, you know, because he’s on a reality tv dating show.”

“But if he likes her, and she likes him, then why can’t we tell them? It’s pretty obvious that this is not just friendship.”

“I decided not to tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because of Nat.”

“She was all wrong for him and Y/N—“

“I pushed Bucky to see Nat. He was hesitant about seeing her and I told him that she was good, that all of the doubt that he had about her was just nerves...but he was right. And I pushed him and he was the one who got hurt...badly hurt.”

“But she isn’t Nat.”

“No but he needs to be the one to make the move from friendship to something more. I can’t push him again, give suggestive hints yes, but I can’t do that to him again. I know that he likes her more than he ever did Nat, so I want what they have to last even if it takes a while for them to get there.”

“Well you're sweet to worry about him, but don’t think that I won’t stop trying. If anyone can get through to him it’s me.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

We didn’t stick around much longer after that. Winnie had made some sweets earlier in the day and loaded us up before we left, apologizing for waking us up. But after that we went back home curled back into our warm blankets and thought that maybe Winnie was right, maybe we did need to do something about this.

Y/N’S POV

The nightmares weren’t that bad last night. Having Bucky with me made me feel less alone, he made me feel less like a victim.

I remember the crash. I remember the song playing on the radio, I remember what I was thinking, who I was thinking about… I remember the feeling of the crash, I remember the crack of my leg, I remember the breath leaving my lungs as if it were impossible to ever breathe again. I remember the pain but most of all I remember the one face I would have given anything to see just one more time.

And I did, I did see him again. That was the first time that I felt relief, the second I opened my eyes and saw his eyes looking right back at me. I tried so hard to talk to him to, to speak around the breathing tube with no luck. But seeing him there was enough.

And then he stayed. He took care of me while I recovered in the daunting room, he spoke to me as if the accident had never happened. For a second I thought that everything was okay that I could handle staying friends with him, despite the thoughts I had had of him before the crash.

And then he changed, he started to talk about taking care of me and he started talking about things that could have fooled me into believing that he cared for me more than he did.

My response to his talk was some of fear, not because of his intentions changing towards me but because I was scared that my intentions would.

Before the crash I knew where we stood and honestly I would do anything to go back there, because I didn’t want to mess this up.

So when Bucky asked me to move in with him I was scared and when I asked him to stay with me last night I couldn’t do anything but hope that my growing feelings wouldn’t break my heart.

But the nightmares...yeah they weren’t bad last night.

Despite the sleep I got, I was still up pretty early. I didn’t dare move though, I wanted the good feeling to last a little longer. I waited and listened to his lungs moving, his heart beating and I couldn’t help but feel that I wanted to stay here. Something had definitely shifted when that car crashed into me, I just didn’t know if it was for the worse or the better.

PART SEVEN

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