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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

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Fire Dogs: 3

When you get home Sam is asleep on the couch and Cooper is waiting at the door.

“Sam,” Steve says and Sam wakes with a start, alert and ready to go, “Go to bed. We got her.” Sam shakes his head then stands and stretches.

“You alright Fawn?”

“I will be, just a bit bruised.” You give him a small smile and he returns it then heads upstairs.

“Glad you’re okay.” He says before he disappears down the hallway.

“Thanks Sam!” You call then Steve’s hand brushes the back of your arm.

“Let’s get a look at your ribs and shoulder.” He suggests you can feel the flicker of an Alpha command but it’s like he’s aware of it so he makes sure he makes it a suggestion.

“You don’t want to shower first?”

“Not really if that’s alright with you. I’d rather make sure you’re okay.”

“Alright, what first?”

“Ribs. Cuz Buck didn’t check.” You sigh softly before taking the edge of your shirt in your hands. You take a deep breath, do your best to hide the wince, then lift the shirt to just under your bra. Steve lets out a low whistle, “Oh Honey.” He breathes and you can’t help but notice that’s the second time he’s called you that. “That’s gotta hurt. I’m gonna put some pressure on a few different places okay? I want you to give me a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad it hurts.”

“Okay.” He gently feels your ribs, the highest he gets on the pain scale is a six.

“I’m fairly confident none are broken but if the pain escalates you let one of us know immediately okay?”

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he mutters before reaching for the blanket you keep on the couch, “Shoulder now, it’ll probably be easier to take your shirt off and wrap yourself in the blanket.” He turns away and you go to peel yourself out of your shirt but it hurts like hell to try and get it off.

“Steve I can’t.” You grumble finally admitting defeat.

“Can’t?”

“I can’t get my shirt off without hurting myself. I need help.”

“Oh, okay.” He turns around and helps ease you out of your tee shirt, thankfully it’s not terribly painful but it is a little awkward to be standing in front of him in just your bra and shorts. “Blanket?” He offers you your blanket again.

“Thanks.” He nods, when you wince again as you attempt to wrap the blanket around you he frowns slightly. Again Steve takes the blanket from your hands and wraps it around you. He’s so close to you that you can smell the smoke on him stronger than his scent.

“Ready?”

“I guess. Same pain scale?” He nods then gently starts to touch around your already bruising shoulder. He gets a seven and a half on this one, right where the branch had hit you.

“How does the head feel?”

“I mean I have a headache, and I’m pretty sure I was unconscious for a while but for having a branch fall on me I’m doing alright.”

“I would really like it if you went to the ER.” He says gently, “You want help getting your shirt back on?”

“No, I’m just going to put on my pajamas and ice my shoulder.”

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“Do you honestly think that I need to? Bucky said I didn’t have a concussion. He said I was fine.”

“You went unconscious though. Something you failed to mention.” He frowns down at you, you smile sweetly up at him.

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Fawn.” Steve groans dropping his head back in frustration. You bite your lip, you really just, you don’t want to go. His eyes meet yours again and after he searches your face for a second his face softens. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You lie as you turn to go upstairs but a sudden gentle tug on the back of your blanket pulls you to a stop.

“Honey, I can practically taste the anxiety on you.” He says softly, “are you scared?” You shake your head no, “is it the cost?” Again a no, “Please, let me help?” He soothes, his scent rolls over you and you can feel yourself relaxing.

“I’m,” you drop your head, “it’s my ex. He runs the ER and even if he isn’t there he usually shows up while I’m there.” You admit softly.

“You don’t have to go alone, I’ll stay with you.”

“They’ll ask you to leave. My friend Scott tried that when I broke my wrist.”

“The only one who will get me to leave is you. I promise.”

“Fine,” you relent, “Can you help me get my shirt back on?”

Steve helps you get your shirt back on then you convince him to take a shower. You can wait, you ice your shoulder while he’s in the shower. He comes down in a pair of jeans, a blue plaid shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black boots. Good lord he’s handsome, you grab your purse and Cooper’s leash then follow Steve out the door. Cooper hops in the back and you buckle him in then go to the front seat. When you pull up to the hospital Cooper shoves his head under your arm and you absentmindedly pet him.

“You ready Honey?” You like this new nickname he’s got for you. “Let me know if I can help soothe you okay?” You nod then take a deep breath and pop open your door. You take Cooper out of the back of then meet Steve at the back of the car. When you pause again Steve offers you his hand, when you look up at him he’s got that soft smile on his face again. You take the hand that he offers then head inside, his thumb brushes against your pulse point a couple times and you slow your breathing. It’s not until you’re in a room that you actually start to relax a little bit, but it’s not enough and Coop notices placing his head in your lap.

There’s a tap on your door and before you can say anything the door swings open,

“Well, well, well what did we do this time Grey?” His scent rolls into the room with him, it’s stale and causes your nose to wrinkle.

“She prefers Fawn.” Steve growls and Grant actually looks surprised.

“Who are you?” He asks puffing up his chest at the sight of a new Alpha.

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, a firefighter. Thought you liked your men with a bit more brains then a firefighter. I’ll need you to step out Mr. Rogers.”

“No.” Steve says from where he’s leaning coolly against the wall. Cooper licks your fingers.

“Then at least be useful and get that dog out of my way.” Grant sneers taking a step toward you and Steve pops off of the wall,

“Fawn, do you want him to be your doctor?”

“No.”

“You heard the lady. She wants a different doctor. Get out.”

“You might think that you’re some big bad firefighter dude but you don’t get to boss me around.” Grant says standing to his full height, “I’m starting to think that my patient isn’t safe with you around.” Grant sneers and Cooper growls lowly, placing himself between you and Grant, something Steve absolutely notices.

“She’s not the one in danger from me.” You can feel the rage building between the two Alphas and Grant glares at him. “Unless Fawn says otherwise, both the dog and I are staying where we’re at.”

“You don’t get to threaten me in my own hospital.” Grant huffs, “Get. Out.” He punctuates each word with the jab of his finger into Steve’s chest. Steve sighs and when Grant goes to poke him again Steve catches his arm and twists it behind Grant’s back. “This is assault! Security!” He yells and Steve growls lowly.

“Technically you laid hands on me first so this is self-defense. Now, I’m going to politely ask you to get the fuck out and get Fawn another doctor. I’m also going to tell you that if you decide to try and make trouble for me or Fawn one of my best friends is Virginia Potts, New York Attorney General. She really likes knocking bullying Alphas off their pedestal, and the last doctor that went up against her lost his practice license and I think is still serving jail time.” You stare at Steve in amazement, he’s calm, but you can feel the Alpha rolling off of him and still has a firm grasp on Grant. He mutters something quietly to Grant that you can’t hear then Grant looks almost dazed, like Steve had just Alpha commanded him and he didn’t know what to do. Two security guards show up and thankfully one is someone who will actually believe you over Grant.

“Phil!” You breathe in relief.

“Fawn, what is going on here?”

“This is Steve, he’s one of the firefighters staying with me. Grant wouldn’t leave and let me have a different doctor even though I asked for a new one then he poked Steve in the chest and threatened him.”

“I did not! Get this fucker off me!” Grant snaps glaring over at you. “You’re a lying bitch of an Omega Grey.”

“I’m sorry, did I not make it clear you weren’t to call her that anymore?” Steve growls putting pressure on the arm he has behind Grant’s back. “Apologize.”

“Sorry.” Grant spits out and he almost looks surprised that he’s done it. It’s great to see him being bossed around like he used to do to you.

“Continue Fawn.” Phil says calmly, as he eyes the two Alphas in front of him.

“I asked Steve to stay, no matter what, and Grant told him to leave that’s when he poked Steve and threatened him after Steve defended himself.”

“Sir, please let go of Dr. Ward.” Phil says sounding bored, his partner a young woman, seems to be enjoying the drama. Steve let’s go of Grant who turns on Steve and takes a swing at him. One that Steve must have anticipated because he just takes a half step back and the hit goes wide. Both Phil and his partner grab Grant before he can try again and usher him out of your room. “I’ll send in May.” Phil says as they practically drag Grant away.

“Thank you.” You say quietly then Steve gently closes the door.

“I see now why you were so hesitant about coming.” Steve says before sitting down next to you in the second chair, he offers you a hand again and you take it, Coop’s head is back in your lap. “He was abusive wasn’t he?” No one has ever just straight up asked you that.

“Not physically,” you admit, “he’s the one that started the whole Grey nickname and all his friends just kinda ran with it.”

“Abuse isn’t just physical Honey. He Alpha commanded you a lot didn’t he?” You nod slowly before saying,

“I know abuse isn’t always physical. It’s just harder to admit when it’s not physical. People would say I was so lucky to be dating him, this hot, young, Alpha doctor. But no one could see what he was doing to my spirit. Nothing I ever did was good enough. My career was a hobby, I should be a nurse so we could work together. I spent too much time on my books. I spent too much time training and doing therapy with Cooper. Anything that took my attention away from him. He wanted a good little Omega who stayed home and served him. He wanted to mark me but I just couldn’t let him.”

“How did you get away?”

“Cooper actually.” You give the dog a couple of chin scratches, “He told me I had to choose, my dog or him and the choice was easy. People said I was stupid but I was just glad to be rid of him, as much as I could be in a town this size.”

“I’m proud of you.” You look at him in surprise, most people tell you that they’re sorry, “you got out and you’ve stayed out.” There’s a soft tap on the doorframe and after a moment Dr. May walks into your room.

“Hey, so what brings you in today?”

“Branch fell on me and knocked me unconscious. I got the okay from Bucky to go home but Steve wants to make sure I’m good.”

“I don’t think any of her ribs are broken but I’d like to be sure before anything happens. Our EMT cleared her for concussion but the fact that she went unconscious is concerning.”

“Ah, so that’s who Bucky is.” You nod, “I’m seeing some shoulder favoritism too?”

“Yea, it hit my shoulder first.”

“Okay, let’s get your shirt off so I can take a look, if you want Captain Rogers to leave I can help you.”

“He’s already seen it.” You tell her and he helps ease you out of your shirt again.

Melinda ends up ordering some x-rays for you. The only time Steve leaves your side is when she walks you to the x-ray room. She takes the time to make sure you feel safe.

“Honestly, he makes me feel so safe, I wouldn’t have come without him. Did Phil tell you what happened?”

“Yea,” she tells you with a smirk, “I wish he would’ve decked him.” You chuckle softly, “he’s crazy about you.”

“Who?” Oh god please don’t say Grant.

“Captain Rogers.”

“He’s also an Alpha, you know how I feel about Alphas.”

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

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Civil War (Chapter Four)

Summary: In the aftermath of the U.N. bombing, (Y/N) receives a call from Steve and is ‘invited’ to the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre in Berlin for questioning.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m not too sure about this chapter, it’s all over the place and I’ve rewritten it twice so I can’t tell if it’s good or not lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Four (Previous Chapter)

While the paramedics finished fastening the bandage around her head, (Y/N) sat in the back of the ambulance and silently watched the chaos unfolding. A fire crew was busy hosing down the still-smoldering ruins and a medical helicopter flew overhead as different government agencies began setting up their base camps on the outskirts of the caution tape. The CIA agent who’d questioned her about the incident had informed her that a large-scale bomb had gone off next to their building, injuring over seventy people and killing twelve; she’d gone on to explain to her that if not for T’Challa’s last-minute warning, many more people would’ve perished in the blast.

Poor T’Challa, (Y/N) thought to herself with a pang of sadness. His father, King T’Chaka, had been the closest person to the blast and was killed instantly. The paramedics completed their work and she thanked them before quickly getting out of their way, knowing that there were many others who still needed to be helped. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her ash-covered blazer, she walked along the edge of the crime scene towards where she’d last seen Natasha and T’Challa; different international news reporters were documenting the tragedy and as she passed by one of them, their words almost made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous Hydra agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations…”

(Y/N) continued walking, afraid that she’d be recognized if she lingered too long, and finally sat down on an empty bench near the CIA’s base camp. Once she got over the initial shock of learning the suspected identity of the bomber, she couldn’t help but feel confused; Bucky had been on the run for over two years, ever since the Battle at the Triskellion and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., and there hadn’t been any sign of him since. Steve and Sam had tracked down every single lead they could find but to no avail. To her, it didn’t make much sense that after all that time, the wanted man would suddenly decide to do something as massive as bomb the United Nations.

The buzzing of her cell phone in her pocket jolted her out of her thoughts; pulling it out and glancing down at the screen, her eyes widened in recognition and she was quick to answer it. “Hello?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Um…yeah, a little. My right eardrum ruptured from the noise of the blast and my lungs feel like crap, but other than that I’m okay…” She trailed off, listening as Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief. Try as she might, memories of their recent fight came to mind but she forced aside her irritation with him as she continued. “Listen Steve, I just heard about Bucky and I-”

“You’re gonna tell me the same thing Nat did: to leave it up to the Task Force and stay home.”

She blinked, taken aback by the shortness of his tone. “Well, I think she has a point about staying out of it but what I was actually going to say is that-”

“I’m the only one who can bring him in alive, (Y/N), so that’s what I’m gonna do. I just wanted to call and tell you myself so that you didn’t believe I was hiding things from you.” Steve abruptly interrupted and after a moment of tense silence, the hard edge in his voice softened a little. “Look, I’m…take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay? Don’t forget to change that bandage of yours every few hours.”

The call disconnected as (Y/N)’s head snapped up in shock and she hurriedly scanned her surroundings, but the super-soldier was nowhere to be seen. “Bastard.”

“(Y/N)!” She looked over in time to see Natasha striding over to her, her brow furrowed in worry. “(Y/N), I just got a call from Steve a few minutes ago, and-” The spy stopped herself short as she examined her assumedly-angered expression. “I take it you got one, too.”

“Yep, and I’d rather not discuss it right now if that’s okay.”

Natasha nodded. “Fine by me, hot-shot, but we should be going; our presence has been…um, requested in Berlin. At the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, to be precise.”

Frowning, (Y/N) stood and walked alongside her. “Our? What’s all this got to do with me?” The spy gave her a pointed look and she exhaled through her nose. “Ah, yes, my ‘association’ with Steve Rogers. They’ve guessed that he’d be the first one after Bucky and since I’m his fiancé, they want to hold me for questioning.”

“Pretty much…but there’s another reason that I’ll let Tony tell you about himself when we arrive. It was his bad idea, after all.”

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By that point, (Y/N) was well and truly sick of flying; they’d taken the Quinjet to the Berlin-Tegel Airport, where a car had picked them up and drove them to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. If her head hadn’t hurt so much and she were in a better mood, she would’ve taken the time to admire all the historical landmarks they passed by. And here I thought that week we spent dealing with Ultron was exhausting, she thought with a humorless smile, getting out of the car and walking alongside Natasha as they entered the parking garage’s elevator.

“When you’re questioned by an agent, be sure to answer as honestly as possible.” (Y/N) glanced up from her dirty sneakers and met Natasha’s serious expression. “Cooperation’s the only thing that’s gonna help Steve and Sam out right now, (Y/N). Don’t let the agent get inside your head, though; make sure that you’re the one in control of the situation, just like I’ve taught you. If I know them like I think I do, they’re gonna try and get more valuable intel out of you than just Steve’s whereabouts.”

She nodded after a brief moment of hesitation and the spy’s shoulders relaxed a little. The elevator stopped at the top floor and its doors slid open to reveal two men; one was Tony Stark, dressed stylishly in a dark-grey suit with a tense smile on his face and the other was an older man with salt-and-pepper colored hair that she didn’t recognize. The stranger stepped forward and shook Natasha’s outstretched hand. “Miss Romanoff, thank you for coming in so quickly.”

“Of course,” Natasha replied before glancing over at (Y/N). “(Y/N), this is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander of the CIA. Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Agent Ross smiled and shook her hand, but (Y/N) got the distinct feeling that he was studying her expression and analyzing her behaviors. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Miss (Y/L/N); my niece and nephew are big fans of your novel.”

(Y/N) murmured her thanks and followed the trio as they walked down a covered sky-way, not noticing that Tony had fallen into step beside her until he quietly asked, “How’re you holdin’ up, Austen?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve had better days.” She remarked, glancing over at the billionaire with a raised brow. “Nat mentioned something about a bad idea you wanted to run by me?”

“Oh, I have a couple of ‘em, but I’ll let you get changed before I go ahead and tell you. When I heard about the bombing, I figured that you and Romanoff would need clothes so I packed some before I left the compound.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, (Y/N) allowed him to lead her to a private bathroom and quickly changed out of her soot-covered clothing; she felt a little bit like her usual self as she emerged from the bathroom, but the comforting feeling her change of clothes had inspired soon disappeared when the billionaire ushered her into a glass-walled conference room in the middle of what she imagined was a control room.

“Sorry if it seems like we’re sitting inside a fish bowl but this is the only place where we can talk without being overheard.” Tony sat down across from her at the long table, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m sorry about the civilian consultant thing, Austen. We all found out about it last night when Secretary Ross called to ask who’d decided to sign; he seemed crankier than usual when we told him that we didn’t know what you’d decided to do.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and leaned her elbow onto the table, resting her head in her hand with an exasperated sigh. “What, does Ross think that if I sign then that’ll make Steve suddenly change his mind and decide to sign too?”

“Pretty much…but truth be told, he’s not the only one.” Her brow rose in surprise as Tony sat forward in his chair, an uncharacteristically subdued expression on his face. “Look, (Y/N), none of us wants to see Rogers gone. The team needs him and we both know how much he needs the team, so…I was hoping that if you signed, you’d be able to convince him that he’d be doing the right thing by signing too. Once Rogers signs them, then Wilson and Maximoff should follow suit and we’d have our Earth’s Mightiest Heroes all back together again in no time. What do you think?”

“You make it sound so easy…and I wish it was, Tony. I really do.” She stood and walked over to the glass wall, her eyes trained on a large computer monitor that bore her fiancé’s photograph on a wanted poster. “But you and I also know that once Steve’s made up his mind about something it’s impossible to change it. I tried telling him that refusing to sign might put our future together in jeopardy, and do you know what he said?” Turning back around, she met the billionaire’s gaze and mirthlessly smiled. “He said that he couldn’t afford to be selfish and he left it at that.” A lump formed in her throat as she blinked away her tears and shrugged. “He respects the hell out of you, Tony, so maybe you’ll have a better change at convincing him. I’ll be there when you do, but…since I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet, I honestly don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Just as Tony opened his mouth to reply, the glass door of the conference room slid open and none other than Sharon Carter poked her head into the room. “If you’re ready, Agent Ross would like to ask you some questions.” (Y/N) stood and spared Tony a final glance before following the agent down the hall, pointedly ignoring the jealous pang in the pit of her stomach as she did. “Romanoff mentioned that you weren’t much of a coffee drinker, so I brought you some hot chocolate instead.” She looked over to see Sharon holding out a to-go cup out towards her, a hesitant but friendly sort of smile on her face. “Might help settle your nerves before your talk with Ross.”

She accepted the beverage with a murmur of thanks and took a sip as they continued down the hall; giving the agent a sideways glance, she cleared her throat before saying, “I’m sorry about your aunt, Sharon.”

“Thank you…and thank you for everything you said in your eulogy. Actually,” Sharon stopped beside the stairwell door and gestured towards it. “We don’t have much time, but do you mind if we talk for a quick sec?” (Y/N)’s brow furrowed a little but she nodded and followed her into the stairwell, watching as she leaned back against the wall and shuffled her feet. “You meant a lot to Aunt Peggy, (Y/N), but I don’t think you know just how much she appreciated you. Back before her dementia got worse, she’d call me after her visits with Rogers and we’d talk for hours; she worried about him, always telling me that he was deliberately keeping himself from embracing his new life and that there wasn’t anything she could do to help. But then you came into his life and from what she told me, it was a night and day difference; knowing that you were there for Steve, as a friend and then as something more, gave her piece of mind. She really liked you, (Y/N), and she really respected you. I just thought that you should know that.”

“Thank you, Sharon, that…that really means a lot to me.”

The agent nodded, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “I would’ve told you all that after the funeral but you and Steve were sort of…well, you know…arguing. I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, it’s just that you both were kind of loud and the cathedral has crazy-good acoustics.” (Y/N) started to reply but Sharon cut her off with a firm head shake. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, (Y/N). I’m not exactly a fan of the Accords but just between us? I think that Steve was out of line back there.” Unsure of what to say, she nodded once and took another sip of her drink as the agent looked down at her wristwatch. “C’mon, we should get going before Ross starts looking for us.”

The two of them left the stairwell and continued down the hallway to an office; Agent Ross was seated at a desk and reading through a file, looking up from his work with a friendly smile. “Thank you, Agent 13, that’ll be all.” With one last glance, Sharon turned and left them alone. “Please, take a seat.” (Y/N) sat down in the chair across from him and crossed her leg over her knee, trying her best to remain cool and collected. “Miss (Y/L/N), we have reason to believe that Captain Rogers plans on interfering with the apprehending of the Winter Soldier; can you tell me when you last spoke to your fiancé?”

“A little over three hours ago in Vienna. He called to ask if I’d been injured during the bombing and then he warned me that he was planning on bringing in Bucky himself. That’s all he said.”

Ross nodded and gestured to the bandage wrapped around her head. “And are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s only a ruptured eardrum; the bandage is just keeping the ear from becoming infected.” (Y/N) shrugged, taking another sip of her drink before setting it down on the desk. “Truth be told, I’ve had worse.”

Nodding again, the agent picked up the open file on his desk and scanned its contents. “Yeah, it seems like you have. In March of 2014, you suffered a moderate-grade concussion, GSW on your left thigh and a severe muscle contusion on the other thigh; it also says here that you even needed an emergency blood transfusion upon arrival at the hospital.” He looked back up at her with an arched brow. “Sounds like a lot for a civilian to go through.”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “I-it was-”

“And according to witness statements from the Avengers, the Artificial Intelligence known as Ultron targeted you last year because of your close relationship with Steve Rogers, is that correct?” Nodding, she struggled to keep her expression neutral as her fingers began reflexively tracing along her old gunshot wound. “It looks like you were just a pawn in Ultron’s plan to break the Avengers apart, and it very nearly worked.”

Her first instinct was to snap at the agent but after recalling Natasha’s earlier warning, she swallowed her frustration and gave him a fleeting smile. “The CIA certainly cares a lot about historical fiction novelists, doesn’t it?”

Ross chuckled and leaned forward in his seat. “Only the ones engaged to rogue super-soldiers, of course. Speaking of super-soldiers, can you elaborate on the nature of your fiancé’s connection to James Barnes?”

“There’s nothing much to say that hasn’t already been said; Steve and Bucky were childhood friends who fought together during World War II and when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Steve and Sam tried searching for Bucky but they never found him.”

Nodding, the agent reached over and moved his computer monitor to face her; on the screen was a blurry image of a man wearing dark clothing, obviously taken from grainy security camera footage. “And is this James Barnes?”

“Yes, although I’ve only seen him in person once and this photo’s a little blurry.”

“Okay, let me see if I’ve got this straight: Steve’s old pal bombs the U.N. meeting that you, his fiancée, was attending and instead of rushing to your side like any other partner would do, he decides to leave the country to apprehend Barnes himself. Does that pretty much sum things up?” (Y/N)’s jaw clenched tightly and she stared silently at the agent in front of her, who tilted his head to the side as he considered her. “You see, the CIA knows that you and Captain Rogers are close but what we don’t know is how far you’d go to protect a man who doesn’t sound like he’s got your best interests at heart.”

Before (Y/N) could finally lose her temper, another agent poked his head into the office. “I’m sorry, Agent Ross, I know you said that you didn’t want to be disturbed but this is urgent.”

“Fine, fine…”

Ross stood and followed the agent out into the hallway, leaving the office door cracked open just far enough for her to make out some of what they were saying. “Rhodes…all of them arrested…Bucharest…ETA in less than six…”

Thank goodness they’re all right, (Y/N) thought as relief washed over her, they’ll both be charged with obstruction of justice but at least they’re alive. Some of her elation disappeared as her mind drifted back to Agent Ross’ line of questioning; Natasha was right, the CIA was taking the golden opportunity to get intel on Captain America with the knowledge that what they were doing was protected under the Sokovia Accords. The thought of being manipulated and used that way infuriated her but what angered her more was that this all stemmed from Steve’s unwillingness to consider the consequences of not signing the Accords. You’re in control here, she told herself with a calming breath, just do everything Nat told you to do and you’ll be okay…

Agent Ross reentered the office and sat back down with an expectant smile on his face. “Well, now, where were we?”

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A/N: This story’s a little more challenging to write than The Winter Soldier or Age of Ultron, there’s so much angst to deal with and writing these chapters really takes a lot out of me, so any likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated ❤️

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, you guys are truly amazing! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=f5f309da80a74a63

Chapter Five

Civil War Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95 @savedbystyle @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @khuang3 @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @aesthethickks

#stumblin' in #civil war #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #black widow #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #sharon carter #agent 13 #everett ross #agent ross #captain america civil war #marvel cinematic universe

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kortsitron · 3 years

Text

Cold-hearted

Pairing: Steve Rogers × Murderer!Male! Reader

Warnings: cursing (not much tho), mention of blood, mention of killing, it's kinda disgusting (understand it however you want)

Summary: Reader is a murderer gets captured by the Avegers after a long time. Steve catches contact with reader and falls in love with him, but was falling for him right?

// Hate me all you want after this, but honestly that idea for a one shot in my opinion is just *chef's kiss* I might do the second part, but I'll think about it. Leave your thoughts in comments and enjoy 💖 //

"So... Did you like your life or am I doing you a favor?" You said to the person being attached to a chair, who was crying already. "At least it's nothing personal, because if it would person, it would much worse than that." You murmured while making your way to the table where you had a lot of knives. Everytime you would kill someone, you always liked to talk to them. No matter what was talk monolog about, you liked it. It was kind of your traditions to do that. You knew that it wasn't relaxing the person that you were talking to, but it was relaxing for you. "It would say that this won't hurt, but it will." You smiled to yourself while taking your favorite knife. The person you were trying to kill, was having a hiccup from crying, but beside that everything was quiet. Way too quiet. "Something wrong, I can sense it..." You murmured to yourself. The next thing you knew was that Balck Widow came to your hiding place and kicked you right in the head, making you fall on the ground and lose consciousness.

"Got him, you can come in."

You woke up a few hours later with shook collar on neck and big handcuffs. You cell was huge, made out of glass and metal. "Good morning, prince. Hope you like your home." Nick Fury said to the microphone. You wanted to cover your ears, because of how loud he was, but you couldn't. "Around an hour from now you'll have an interview, so ya better get ready." You were quiet.

When the interview came, you were still quiet. Behind the glass, right in front you was a glass, you weren't seeing too well who was on the other side, but somehow you could tell that Captain America and few other people. When the guy that was supposed to interview you, got angry and started yelling at you, you were looking terrified. You weren't saying anything, but it was way to visible how scared you were. You managed to make eye contact with Captain through the dark glass, which made him want to get out of that situation. So that's why he stood up. "Where do you think you're going?" Natasha raised her eyebrow, when Steve made his way to the door.

"It think I should try talk to him." He answered before coming in. He talked for a while with a guy, before he took his thing and left. Steve took a chair and sat right on front you. You still were terrified after what happened. "It's alright pal. I'm not going to yell at you. Everything will be fine, if you're going to cooperate with me, alright?" You waited a second before nodding. "I'm not going to be a good cop or whatever so let me just ask - Why did you do it?" Steve was waiting patiently for you to answer, it took you a minute before you brought yourself up to speak. "I-I had to. I had n-no other option."

"What do you mean? Did someone make you do it?" You flinched at that, it gave Steve some kind of signal, that something was going on. He wasn't sure if you were telling the truth or not, but he decided that he wanted to believe you. "You can tell me, it's okay."

"I-I can't. I-I'm sorry." Steve was sitting here, looking at you, thinking if he should keep asking questions, but he just thanked you for that interview and left. "You knew that he used to spent a lot of his time in theater as a kid? Lying little bastard." Bucky groaned, while looking at paper that in the folder with your name. "You think so?" Steve asked sitting next to his best friend, reading the papers.

"Of course he is. Look at him, he looks like a person that would lie to you." Sam interrupted right before leaving.

"Looks like a lost child to me." Steve murmured under his breath. He was looking directly in your eyes, when four men was taking you back to your cell. "He really does looks like a lost child."

Two hours later, Avengers had a meeting in one of the rooms, discussing your situation and thinking what they should do to you. Steve was quiet, listening to what others were saying, even though your words were still on his mind. "Hey capsticle, you there?" Tony was snapping his fingers, trying to get Steve's attention. He blinked a few times before turning his attention to short brunet male in from of him. "So what did (Y/N) tell you?"

"Oh um... He told he had no other option, when it comes to murdering, that's all." Steve murmured as anwers.

"Liar!" Thor shouted, others agreed with him.

"Okay, but what if he's actually telling the truth?"

"I would believe it, if it wasn't him." Wanda responded, sounding a bit annoyed.

"I get it, but what if someone's making him do that? I mean, he wouldn't take it put of nowhere, right?"

"I understand what you're trying to say," Bucky added, while looking at Steve with straight face. "but aren't you're just into guy that murdered around one thousand people in one year?" When Bucky saw his best friend's annoyed expression, he couldn't help his laugh. "I'm just messing with you, punk. Don't be mad."

"I just that's more to it than we think."

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll find out."

Days went and Steve still couldn't get your words out of his mind, so he decided that he wanted to befriend you or at least make you trust him so he could find out if you were telling the truth. He didn't much time, because in a month, you were about to be taken to jail. So he went to your cell and saw you, being absolutely miserable and gently tapping on glass with your nails. It was dark in your cell, because it was night, but you couldn't sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Steve interrupted you, snapping you out of your thoughts. His voice was quiet, because he didn't want to scare you. You looked at him and smiled a little. "Thanks for saving me from that guy a few days ago. He scared be a bit, wasn't expecting that reaction from him."

"Wasn't expecting that either. You know where they planning to take me?" You were meaning the jail.

"No, everyone's doesn't want to inform about you, since I've decided to defend you at one of the meetings." He answered while scratching back of his neck, not sure if it was right to say that. "I told them what you said to me and everyone's now calling you a liar. I just thought other should think about what you've said."

"You believe me? You must be only one." You honestly thought he would be like the rest.

"Maybe. But I've heard you really liked spending your time in theater as kid. How was it?" This surprised you, he actually wanted to get to know you. It made blush a bit. Luckily it was too dark for Steve to notice your pink cheeks. You decided to talk to him, tell him about yourself and listen to what he wanted to say. You didn't remember the last when you had such a wonderful conversation. Steve seemed to enjoy talking with you as well. You were still like a lost child to him. You two been talking for around three hours, before Steve felt like you needed sleep. "Well, goodnight (Y/N)" He said with a smile right before leaving.

"Um... Goodnight." After that night, when Steve Rogers had a free time, he would come and talk with you. He would even bring you some snacks. Steve's friends were trying to stop him, because they thought you had bad intentions and they noticed that Steve was getting attached to you. Bucky knew him way too well and he was the most worried one from entire team and he knew that he needed to talk to him. He decided to talk to him when he saw him going down the hall. "Steve, where the hell do you think you're going?" Bucky asked with very serious tone, immediately catching Steve's attention. "I'm going to talk with (Y/N)."

"Steve, you're spending too much time with him."

"I'm just trying to make him trust me. I just want to know if he's lying."

"He is lying and you're falling for him." Steve raised his eyebrow at Bucky's second statement. "You're falling for a literal murderer." Bucky sighed, not believing what he just said.

"I'm not, Bucky. Believe me." His smile didn't change Bucky's mind. "But now, excuse me. I gotta go, I'll see you around pal." He was aware of how bad it would if he was in love with you. He wanted just got informations from you, but he knew that he felt something for you. He wasn't going admit that.

Steve was talking with you, like he always did, but this time he decided to ask you about the thing he wanted to ask you for so long. He saw how you tensed up and got more serious. "It was multiple people. If I wouldn't do what they told me to, they would've kill me or people I care about. I had no choice." You explained it to him.

"Can you tell me who they are? Avengers probably won't have problems with getting them into jails."

"No." You sounded panicked. "They'll know that I was the one to tell you." You took a small break, before speaking again. "I wish I could do something."

Steve thought about your words for a second, before he got most brilliant or the worst idea he ever had. "Maybe you should join Avegers." He exclaimed, catching you off guard. "You can show that everyone is wrong about you and be finally free."

"I- No I couldn't do that."

"I think you just in need to believe in yourself a bit."

"But you would help me, right?"

"Of course. I think you would be a great Avenger."

"Thanks Steve, but I don't others would give me a chance."

"I'll talk with them don't worry." You smiled at him and he smield back, then he left, so he could talk with others about his idea.

"You're joking, right?" Sam asked, not believing what Steve just said.

"Let's give one chance, only one." Steve was serious, deadly serious.

"There's no way it would end in a good way, Steve." Natasha added.

"Let's take him on one mission. If he would try some of his tricks, he would go back to his cell a then to jail." That discussion was going for around 20 minutes, when finally others decided to agree with Steve idea. They didn't seem to be excited about giving you a chance.

Around week later, you've been taken on your first mission. You were stressed, but Steve was trying his best to comfort you by talking with you. You ended up with Steve, Bucky and Sam in some abandoned hospital. You needed to slip up and you went with Steve. Both of you used stairs to get into the basement and went of the room that were there. Everything was dark, but luckily the lights were working. "You think that we'll able to find something in here?" Steve asked you, but he heard nothing from you. Instead he heard metal door close. "(Y/N)?" He asked taking his shield and then getting kicked right in the face, which made him hit the desk behind before falling on the floor. It made his earbud fell out of his ear, but before he could even try and get it back, it was smashed by (Y/N)'s shoe. He wa trying to reach and get his shield back, but it was too far waya from him. "I hope you won't take this personal." You smirked before kicked Captain America in the face once again, but harder which made his nose bleed. "So it was all lies?"

"Yeah, nobody made me kill others, but I made people kill others, before I killed them. Just so you know, I just like killing."

"So it was your plan from the beginning? To make me fall for you?"

"Yes, but you also made me fall for you. I wanted to chance it, I even wanted to chance, but my first plan won." You kneeled so you could look into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Before I kill, I want to tell you plan. You deserve to hear it after all. Basically I want to kill every Avenger, because your getting too much in my way. It's way easier to trick police than trick you." Steve really didn't want to do it, but he saw not other way, but to punch you in the face. You hardly hit the floor, but quickly got up. Steve after stood up and got his shield. "I'm gonna feel bad after killing you. If you wouldn't make me love you, it would much easier." Steve threw his shield at you and hit your right in the abdomen, making you cower a bit. "You talk too much."

"I know, I know. Just shut up." You chuckled.

"You know that we don't have to do this? I really don't want to hurt you."

"Even after everything I did to you?"

"Yes, I still want to help. Just let me do it."

"Stop believing in me!" You cried out and took gun to your hand, before shoot him into his legs. He leaned on the desk he hit moment ago. He tried to hide himself behind his shield, but took it from him and threw it away. Then you threw away your gun and took knife that you were hiding the whole time.

Everything slowed down. It was the moment you were waiting for almost a month, but it didn't feel the same. You loved him and as much as you wanted to kill him in the beginning, now with the same passion, you wanted to kiss him. You knew you wouldn't bring yourself up to kill. You smirked to yourself before saying "Fuck you, Steven Grant Rogers." Then you stabbed him around his abdomen, you knew that this would kill him. You knew anatomy too well and you knew where you should thrust, so you wouldn't kill him. Right after that you left, hoping that someone is going to find Steve.

Steve woke up in the hospital, Bucky sitting on chair next to his best friend's bed and Sam was standing next to him. Other Avengers were on their way to hospital. "You alright, punk?" Bucky softly smiled at his friend and put his hand on his shoulder. "I felt worse. You found (Y/N)?"

"You're worried about him, after everything he done to you? He almost killed you." Sam said, Steve shook his head. "He told me that he loves me. If he wanted me dead, he could have shoot me in the head, but he didn't. He cares."

"So what are going to do?" Bucky looked at Sam with confusion on his face, before looking at Steve again.

"I'll find him and I'll help him no matter what. I believe that he can chance. He just needs to believe in himself."

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x male reader #male reader #he/him #marvel steve rogers #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america x male reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #steve rogers x y/n

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avengerscompound · 3 years

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The Tower: Happily Ever After - 5

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1601

Warnings: Pregnancy

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children. Yet things aren’t perfect. Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 5: Farewell to Our Old Life

It was kind of strange how little there was to organize for us regarding our move. There was packing, but we couldn’t exactly hire a moving truck so it needed to fit in bags that we could carry or it had to stay behind. That was difficult. We had had a long time to collect a lot of things we considered precious to us. The glass artwork that Thor and I had inadvertently made on our honeymoon was the thing I wished we could bring the most. It would stay in the fountain in the entry and hopefully, we’d come back sometimes and see it.

Thankfully, most of our things were fairly portable. We also wouldn’t need a lot of clothes because Asgard would provide things more fitting for the palace, and it’s not like we would need any furniture. Mostly it was just personal effects and tech that Tony wanted to use there.

Other than that it was just letting the doctors know I was leaving, pulling Marya out of school, and organizing the party.

It was still leaning on the stressful side though - especially considering we were still waiting to hear what the rest of the kids were going to do.

Even though Rose and Paul had appeared closest to deciding to come, it was Billy and Teddy who came back to us first with a yes. They had also said they wanted to do a bonding ceremony when we were there, which added another level of excitement and another level of stress.

Rose and Paul came next. They said that they would try it out and see. The concern about their children’s lifespan was a big issue for them, but Paul also said he’d be crazy to give up at least trying to live on Asgard as actual royalty.

As expected it was Eddie who took the longest to decide. He really did love his job, and I think even with his talk about having children, he, Lyra, and Rory were still right into the rich, young party lifestyle. He was worried about what they’d lose going to Asgard, rather than focusing on the things he might gain.

No one pressured him though. Any questions the three had were answered as honestly as we could and if we didn’t know we’d send word back to Asgard and Loki would come and give the answers they were looking for if at all possible. Eventually, he decided that he’d give it six months for us to settle and make sure things with Stark Industries and the Avengers was transitioning smoothly given our sudden departure, and then he and his family would join us there to try it out. He mentioned maybe doing six months on each planet or returning to Earth for a month or two every year, but we were all just glad he was willing to try it out, and his delayed departure from Earth was a good idea. He even promised to come and visit when his new siblings were born.

When our goodbye party began, the whole family was excited for this new chapter in our lives and sad to say goodbye to the last.

Many of our friends were elderly or had passed on, so the party was going to be a mixture of different people. Clarke was still around, though Jax had passed a few years ago. We’d lost Rhodey and Fury, though Hill was still running the day-to-day operations of the Avengers, even in her old age, and Coulson had retired after years as successfully being director of SHIELD. Vision was the same as ever, and people often came to him for direction when it came to the Avengers. Carol also hadn’t changed though she still spent more time in space than on Earth. A lot of the people we had met that had seemed so young when we met them, were all not officially middle-aged. Even Peter Parker who was only fifteen when I met him was now pushing fifty and had a wife and daughter of his own.

They would all be at the party, including a lot of the new Avengers lineup. Most of whom were much heavier hitters than any of us, even when we were wielding Mjolnir. It was definitely going to be sad to say goodbye.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?” Wanda said, snapping me out of my mini-trance as she ran a brush methodically through my hair.

“No, I know,” I said, tilting my head back.

“Then tell your brain that,” she teased.

I giggled and leaned up and pecked her lips. “I’m sorry. I would if I could. Just hormones I guess. Feeling stressed.”

“Well, stop it,” she scolded playfully. “It’s bad for the babies.”

She began to braid my hair and I hummed as her fingertips grazed over my scalp. “Imagine it though, Elly,” Wanda said. “All the kids nearby - the new babies.”

“You’re a baby-oholic,” I said, laughing softly.

“It’s true,” she says. “I am.”

She ran a hand around my side and pressed it on my stomach. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said. “They already have such busy thoughts.”

I looked up at her and I’m not sure whether it was the look of pure and complete love in her eyes or the way the light caught in her hair, but I was struck by how beautiful she was and how much I loved her. She smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I love you too,” she said and picked up a strand of silver wire with black opal and threaded it into my hair. “All done.”

I stood carefully and straightened out the skirts on my blue lace cocktail dress. “How do I look?” I asked.

“Perfect as always,” she said. “Let's go say goodbye to our friends.”

We made our way down to the party deck where the party was only just starting up. Bruce, Steve, and Clint were all already there, but there was no sign of Tony, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Thor, or Bucky.

Some of our kids were there and their kids all played out in the garden atrium that was built on the protruding wing of the tower and the party deck opened out into. I greeted everyone and as I made my way around the room more people arrived.

Clarke came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and smiled, hugging her tightly. She had aged well, not as well as I had obviously, but while her face was lined and she was a little frailer looking, she had kept in good shape and she continued to color her hair. It would be easy to think she was in her early fifties rather than her mid-seventies. Her eyes were what gave it away. What had once been vivid violet had faded to pale lavender and were slightly cloudy. They were heavily lined at the corners, the years having carved deep crevices to mark each time she was happy or sad or angry or worried. It was still my Clarke though and I was going to miss her.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be here when these two are born,” she said, indicating to my stomach as we pulled apart. She was one of the select group of people I would be totally fine with touching my stomach unasked - but she never assumed. “Where am I going to get my baby kisses from?”

I laughed and shook my head. “I guess you’ll have to visit me on Asgard.”

“You can do that?” She asked.

“I mean… I’m the Queen. I think I can pull some strings,” I teased.

She laughed. “God, thinking of you as a Queen is such a trip.”

“Hey Auntie Clarke,” Billy said, appearing behind us. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Clarke hugged him and looked around. “It’s been too long. Where are those kids of yours.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to them,” he looked over at me and narrowed his eyes. “You go sit down, mom. You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” I argued, holding up my hands. “I’m just standing here.”

“Go on,” he said. “Don’t make me page Dad Tony.”

“Heaven forbid,” I laughed and he wrinkled his nose at me and led Clarke out to the atrium. I got myself a little plate of appetizers and a glass of punch and went and took a seat.

It wasn’t long until the whole room was teeming with people. The Avengers had gotten to be a rather large collection of people since the original six had been reluctantly dragged together all those years ago. Having so many of the people who meant so much to all of us here at the same time couldn’t help but make me think about how I’d first joined this group that would one day be my family.

All those years ago I had been a traumatized woman in her mid-twenties, just trying to get by. I didn’t have many good friends, because it took a lot for me to trust people. It took a superhero to get through and with her, so many other people flooded in after. I was so grateful to them, and so in love with each of them to this day. It would be hard letting this life of ours go, but it was inevitable. I still had my 9 chosen people though, and I always would. I was glad to be taking this next step with them at my side.

// NEXT

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redgillan · 4 years

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Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here.

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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backslashdelta · 3 years

Note

Becky my beloved <3

how are you?

I will be asking to rank all Kurt ships you can think with as much of an explanation as you want ✍️

hope your day is going well 🧡

Myle my beloved <3

I'm not too bad! Kinda stressed over work this week, but it could be worse. I hope you're well!

I don't have a ton of energy to go all out with explanations (I wrote this and then gave an explanation with every single one but shhhh). In lieu of the amount of detail I'd like to provide, please accept these links to previous things I've posted about my opinions of Kurt ships:

Kartie/Kody, Puckurt/St Hummel/Chummel, Kelliott/Kadam/Hevans/Kandler/Kalter, top 10 (now outdated)

I also once posted a tier list of my Kurt ships so feel free to take a look at that! It also may or may not have changed since. My top 3-4 are pretty solid, and after that things can vary quite a bit based on how I'm feeling at the moment.

I'm going to limit this post to pairs rather than poly ships because then there would just be far too many combinations...

ANYWAY. Ranked list of Kurt ships under the cut :)

Kurtbastian. I don't think I need to explain myself, but this dynamic is absolutely everything to me. The intensity, the drama, the sexual tension, everything they are is just so so so perfect for each other and I love them.

Kelliott. I love Kurtbastian because they're a great story, but I love Kelliott because they feel real. If Kurt Hummel were a real actual person, I would want him to be with Elliott Gilbert.

Klaine. The ship that got me into fanfic. That being said... I think I love them more for the fandom than for their canon relationship at this point. Which is totally fine, since basically all of the ships I love are due to fandom if not my own personal thoughts on the characters involved <3

Puckurt. Pansexual!Noah Puckerman in love with Kurt Hummel and willing to defend his honour? Not giving a shit what people have to say about him because He Loves Kurt and he won't be ashamed of who he is and he's just So! Proud! Of his boyfriend!! And Kurt just rolls his eyes and tells Puck he can take care of himself and Puck just looks at him and smirks and says "I know you can" and then they're making out against a wall in a locker room and... I'm gonna stop before I get carried away, but. Yeah. Puckurt my beloved.

Kadam. I'm sometimes guilty of forgetting about them and I'm so mad every single time because they are so cute!! So good!!! Like PLEASE ADAM IS A SWEETHEART and Glee did us so dirty by not giving this relationship a real chance.

Wert. Wesley Montgomery needs to be defended at all costs. This is based solely on fanfiction, and most of that is my own fanfiction lol I accidentally wrote myself into shipping them and now I can't stop.

St Hummel. This would be the most chaotic relationship imaginable but oh god would it be funny as hell.

Hevans. They are very very sweet and the fact that Sam wasn't bi is a crime. Sam clearly had such a high opinion of Kurt throughout the entire damn show, and they should have been together.

Chummel. Mike is a sweetheart. I'm having visions of very hands-on dance lessons that very quickly veer into not-quite-dance-lessons-anymore because Mike is getting right up in Kurt's space to help him move and... well, you get the idea.

Brokurt. Brody deserved better then the show gave him. And he's also so clearly not entirely straight. Let him have a fling with Kurt PLEASE.

Kartie. They would be sweet. I'm not a HUGE fan of Artie but I do think he could be a good boyfriend, and I could imagine him and Kurt being really supportive of each other and their talents being very complimentary.

Kandler. I don't think this would work long term, but I think Chandler is such a fun character and it would have been neat to see where this could go. Maybe a fun little summer fling to boost Kurt's confidence, you know? They part on good terms, go their own ways for school at the end of the summer, if they ever run into each other back home they're friendly and give each other a hug.

Kurtofsky. I'll be honest; I used to really hate this ship. I don't hate it anymore though. In canon? Ehhh, still don't really see it ever happening. Fanon, however, I could see it. And the art that I've seen is gorgeous. I could see this moving up over time; the more I think about it, the more it grows on me tbh.

Kalter. I actually don't hate this. Don't love that Walter lied on the app, but he was upfront on their first date. And I don't think he was taking advantage of Kurt, and the age difference doesn't really bother me (it's not idea especially considering Kurt was still not that long out of high school at this point, but given it's television and he was made out to seem older I can let it slide). I think this was a fine little short relationship and neither of them were all that invested in it, but I don't like... actively enjoy it or anything haha.

Kooper. Honestly the level of awe/obsession/whatever that Kurt had for Cooper upon meeting him turns me off this ship a little bit. I don't hate it or anything, I just don't really see it. Absolutely give me brother-in-laws Kooper ganging up to tease Blaine, though!

Kody. I am very much pro slutty Kurt trying to get it on with a sexy man, but I just... this particular man gives me the heebie jeebies, you know? It's just Not It for me, sorry.

Kinn. No hate to anybody who does like this ship, and like I get it, but a) they're canonically brothers and even in a verse where they aren't I still can't put that aside, and b) I don't really like Finn as a character do I don't enjoy thinking about him and Kurt together romantically. I can enjoy some fanon brotherly Furt content, but that's about all. My apologies.

#am I forgetting some ships? probably. remembering is hard.#but there are 17 here and I think that's pretty sexy of me #glee #kurt ships #kurt hummel #mine #ask #awkwardcaterpillar #my opinions #my rankings #I'm not gonna tag all the ships...#there are a lot and like. all the actual content is under a cut anyway #don't click if you don't want to see a specific Kurt ship #regardless of what the ship is... it's probably mentioned lmao

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katsidhe · 3 years

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Hello as a long time silent lurker with post notifications on, and someone who has been very into the minecraft roleplay for about 9 months, I am oh so incredibly intrigued on your thoughts! I hope you don't mind if I ramble a little. Sam (both minecraft and spn, but in this context the minecraft one) is one of my favourite characters because he's so incredibly complex. The prison story has sparked so much discussion and conflict in this fandom, so I would love to hear your thoughts if you want to share!

oh noooooooooooo don’t enable me. (Jk <3)

I’m putting this under a read more for those of you who don’t want to be inflicted with my minecraft roleplay brain worms. I would apologize but I think we’re well past that.

So, like, full disclosure that I am pretty new to dsmp and am surely missing out on big ol swathes of Essential Character Content, etc etc. But I do know the basics, and I’ve (naturally) watched all the Torture Box Content, because I mean come on, that’s my brand.

k so First of all, THE most essential part of any media: x-coded y girl. Dream is a textbook Cas-coded Sam girl. Sam (Minecraft) is a Cas-coded Dean girl. Quackity is a Dean-coded Sam girl. I’d say Tommy is Dean-Dean. Techno is, hmm, Cas-Cas. Okay, important part done.

Minecraft Sam is very fun! I find it absolutely delightful that he clings to moral high ground while torturing and starving a prisoner. And at least from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot of room for interpretation as to the level of guilt and involvement he actually feels about what’s being done to Dream. He goes back and forth between justifying the treatment as something Dream categorically deserves, and justifying it as a means to an end. Whether that end is the book itself, or whether it’s Quackity’s cooperation/satisfaction, or whether it’s some twisted and bloody sense of justice and duty, seems to vary wildly. On top of that, of course, is the irony that Dream was the one to give him this commission and this job in the first place: in every respect, it’s a duty to Dream (to punish him; to secure him; to uphold his rules) that Sam’s fulfilling. Dream isn’t the only one to suffer from Sam’s inflexibility surrounding the entire concept of Dream: Tommy and Ponk do too.

And yet it’s not the inflexibility that ends up hurting Dream the worst: it’s the gaps in that rigidity. If Sam had kept the prison operating as apparently originally commissioned, it would be inhumane but just about bearable: hardly the level of absurd, over-the-top war crime that it’s reached by now. His choice to begin starving Dream in earnest seems to have been mostly an emotional reaction, after Tommy’s death. (Ironic, too, that Tommy also suffered the result of this choice.) And this is fine, because it’s not active: it’s passive, something that’s happening by inaction. Same with giving Quackity specially made weapons and total carte blanche.

The level of trust that Dream has in Sam’s sense of duty is also fascinating. Even as late as the most recent stream, after the guy’s been permitting him to be tortured for months, Dream appeals to Sam’s need to keep Dream static, in one place as his prisoner, in order to save his life. Incidentally, I do think that convincing Sam to keep Quackity from straight-up murdering him is the only concession Dream was actually hoping to win with that conversation. because like, food and a courtyard visit? after a jail break? Like hell is Sam going to grant that, even before the stunt he and Techno pulled, and Dream knows it. I think that the rest of that conversation was just to deflect, and keep Sam from questioning Dream more sharply about whatever he and Techno have planned. Bringing up Tommy and letting Sam go off on his predictable diatribe about morality and just desserts seemed similarly strategic: Dream knows what Sam thinks about what kind of treatment he deserves. He’s had months to figure it out, and it wasn’t exactly rocket science to begin with.

Anyway, that trust is the same reason Dream appealed (unsuccessfully) to Sam when Quackity first showed up: it devastated him to realize that he’d miscalculated the degree of Sam’s willingness to set aside his duty in this one particular way. Quackity in general represents a HUGE blind spot in Sam’s otherwise completely rigid inflexibility: so huge it’s almost baffling, given what Sam was ready to do to Tommy and Ponk and Ghostbur. But Quackity represents a loophole Sam badly wants. He badly, badly wants some good old-fashioned vengeance, without dressing it up with any pretensions of procedure or justice, but he can’t allow himself to actively act on those impulses—or else he would be Bad, and he can’t have that. He has to believe himself to be Good, and he wants to indulge himself with Dream’s suffering anyway. So he explains that, actually, Dream’s treatment is Dream’s own fault. It’s hilariously deluded.

Which brings me to Quackity, because what makes Quackity fun is that he’s actually NOT hilariously deluded—not about this, at least. Unlike Sam, he’s not laboring under the insane mental acrobatics necessary to convince himself that torture is Good Actually. He knows that what he’s doing is terrible, but he owns it: he’s fine admitting that he enjoys it, that he’s doing this for personal gain and personal vengeance and not for reasons of high-minded civic duty. He’s justifying the torture with brutal simplicity: Dream has hurt him and Dream has something he needs, done and done. He seems to be a firm believer in vengeful and disproportionate retribution, just as with his whole Butcher Army thing. To which I say, neat and fun! I also really really enjoy the power dynamic between him and Dream. Dream is someone who commands respect and fear and power, who could murder Quackity with one hand tied behind his back if they were on equal footing, and who probably barely spared him a thought as a threat. Quackity lives in terror of the thought of Dream escaping and wreaking his vengeance. And Quackity is trying his very best to wrestle that power away from him.

He seems to be pretty unpracticed and ineffective at torture, too—like, yeah, I get this is Minecraft and props are limited, but torturing someone long-term with an ax and a sword is going to be more than a bit unwieldy. and did he even bring in health potions his first day? It’s pretty telling and hilarious that Sam is the one who offers the shears, a far more practical choice of tool. Not to mention that the entire premise of his interrogation gives Dream massive, massive incentive to never give Quackity anything. Quackity straight up admits to Dream that the information he wants is the only reason he’s letting Dream live, which is utterly counterproductive if he wants the book sometime this year. Functionally, he needs to torture Dream not merely into admission, but into suicide. And as the days and weeks and months pass, he’s still got nothing to show for it but growing vindictiveness, paranoia, and frustration. By the time of the latest stream, he’s completely lost the plot—his threats don’t even make sense, his violence is ineffective and unhinged and indiscriminate. He’s lost all leverage and he’s needlessly (re)made a powerful enemy in Technoblade.

So, like, characters like Lucifer are fun because they’re good at torture. Characters like Quackity are fun because they’re bad at torture. But that doesn’t much matter. He doesn’t need to be particularly talented, or strong, or skilled to make Dream’s existence hell: the bare facts of the situation are more than enough for that. What does he learn, over the course of these visits—what skills does he hone, what kinds of violence does he discover that he can stomach? What depths of ruthlessness and creativity and hatred does he discover within himself? What threats does he make that he finds himself following through on before he’s even thought through the implications? It’s a learning curve, for him and Dream both. They’re learning each other, they’re learning the corners of this little hell together. Dream wasn’t expecting him to be capable of this degree of hostility or violence. Quackity is sick of being underestimated.

Which brings me finally to Dream. My general and hastily-gleaned impression of the fandom gives me the distinct impression that there is somehow a school of thought convinced Dream’s earned this treatment? Which baffles me. not only in how its absurd extremity (daily torture in a tiny box for literal months, jesus fucking christ) isn’t something even the most terrible villain could earn, but also in how Dream himself strikes me more as a morally gray fallen/falling antihero type than anything else. I was honestly completely prepared to find him to be a straightforward Bad Guy pre-prison, but that’s not at all my impression. He’s clearly got people and things he cares about and wants to protect, and big picture goals he’ll ruthlessly sacrifice anything to advance (ahem Cas-coded Sam girl). Really, it’s more that roleplays don’t tend to lend themselves easily to those types of narrative classification: nearly every character is a POV character; consuming the content from every perspective is nearly impossible. There aren’t super neat ways to sort antagonists and protagonists in essential terms, only in their relationships to one another. In terms of manipulation, war crimes, power-grabbing, and general destruction, practically everyone on the server is guilty to some degree or another. Dream’s treated Tommy pretty damn terribly, but that hardly makes him unique. What does make Dream unique is that he’s been singled out for near-universally-agreed-upon confinement (which oh so conveniently aligns with him being held as a tool, for information). And that’s neat!

…Look, tldr I just like it when people are in torture boxes. more media should have torture boxes, they are good and fun.

#not spn #anyway nonny I would LOVE to chat more about this tbh #suicide mention #torture #dsmp for ts

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angelmichelangelo · 4 years

Text

i’m about five years too late and nobody asked for this except me and i need to just get this out of my brain because it’s 2am so here’s a list of things i wish happened on glee that didn’t HERE WE GO:

- new directions being actual teenagers. just them hanging out. going to group sleepovers. giant study sessions (because school exists in this universe?) like remember in tpp when they were eating lunch together ? that’s what i wanted MORE of. just them being actual friends. a sleepover episode is all i wanted imagine all the abba songs we could have gained from that episode

- a halloween themed episode. the closest to this that we got was the ‘thriller/heads will roll’ mashup which YES was iconic but im greedy and it’s not enough. my idea for a halloween episode is that the gang gets trapped inside the school after staying behind to idk rehearse? or something? and then things get progressively worse as they start to go a little mad, thinking the school is haunted and they split up into pairs trying to find an escape and they think they’re seeing ghosts/someone lurking around the school and they’re getting real spooked but it turns out it’s just sue fucking with them lmao

- kurt and finn being brothers. THE POTENTIAL WAS THERE and sadly after furt we are left with crumbs. why ?? WHY?? little moments like finn saying that he’s driving back home with kurt or them saying they can’t do something because they have a family thing would have been good enough. more scenes of them hanging out in their home with their parents would have been *chefs kiss* but alas. it never happened because glee writers are bastards

- based off my last point: sam actually living at the hudson-hummel house because he actually did live there? but nothing is ever said like what’s the dynamic there why weren’t kurt and sam and finn close if they all lived together for what? like a year? was sam living in the mf shed? did he ever get close to carole and burt?? where tf did he live when everyone went off to college did he just stay in their house lol who knows not me LMAO

- blaine dealing with his trauma ? mental health was never dealt with very well on this show. emma’s ocd was just ignored after she got married or whatever and blaine mentioned his trauma once and then it was ignored until it was mentioned in passing a few seasons later and even he just brushed it off and it was never brought up again like wtf. i have no idea how they wrote a whole episode about hate crime in bash and they never once thought to have blaine and kurt have a single conversation together, let alone a conversation about how they’d both been victims of a hate crime. AND THE ONLY TIME BLAINE DOES MENTION IT IS IN TESTED WHERE ITS JUST USED AS A REASON FOR THEM TO FIGHT AAAAAAAA no wait im calm it’s okay. i just would have liked to have seen kurt and blaine have an emotional moment together in that episode that didn’t include blaine singing and kurt being knocked tf out. just sayin.

- kurt dealing with HIS trauma !! again, glee gets bad points for talking about mental health and it just is crazy that they had so much potential with kurt, ie: depression, anxiety, ocd (kinda?) his bullying, being literally assaulted (i see u ryan murphy taking that whole plot line so loosely mmhm) and then shoehorning in the fact that he was suicidal AT THE SECOND TO LAST EPISODE when they had a whole episode about suicide and they could have mentioned it at any time but ofc they didn’t because the writers just wanted to shove in as much as they could in the flashback episode AYE AYE AYE the potential!!!! oof.

- literally just more tina. jenna ushkowitz is a fantastic actor/singer/preformer and she was criminally underused. i like the episode props because of two reasons: one. everyone switching characters was amazing. and two. some actual tina scenes. even if she.. technically was rachel but also herself or something? either way. i digress

- this is just in general but MORE ABBA AND ALSO THE CARPENTERS and also some sound of music songs would have worked GREAT but they already had like a million songs and as the show progressed they veered away from old songs and more towards popular songs at the time to help chart numbers blah blah blah whatever it’s cool. but also how did they only do a few abba songs that is criminal

- a more fleshed out ending that wasn’t so rushed. like rachel won a tony and everyone else is just? there? why is sam at mr shue’s house ??? how did artie get up the stairs? did quinn graduate from yale? and where tf was kurt and blaine’s child during ‘i lived’ because burt and carole are vibing in the audience and rachel isn’t pregnant so like? is the baby just?? alone somewhere in the wings?! lmao where are u bby girl!! but once again i know they didn’t have the time to do it so idk it’s fine what they did it just sucks we didn’t get more! but again. fanfic exists so yah im all good

- more of blaine’s mum. or mom, in this case i guess. why cast gina gershon and then give her ONE line like ? ik there was a whole deleted script that explained why she was there but i love that up until that point blaine seemed like he genuinely murdered his parents, lived in their big house all alone and when people got suspicious he just told them that they were “out of town” :) either way pam is great i love her and i wish she had more to do in the one episode she was ever in. not even a moment with blaine?? wasted.

- more of cooper anderson, matt boomer is so fucking funny everytime i think of the emotion tornado i bust a lung laughing like it’s so fucking stupid but oh my good i love it. (and if you haven’t watched the special feature of cooper’s transformers audition tape please please watch it because it’s just so funny.) ik he was just a special guest but i wish they got him back for at least the wedding ep but guess my mans was just busy. boo ;(

- going back a couple of points, i wish they’d done a whole episode like props. every actor here just shines when they’re impersonating each other. finn and puck as kurt and blaine is beautiful and quinn and sugar is incredible. also idk why they refused kevin the right to wear the cheerios skirt; they could have put a little more effort into some characters but that’s glee for ya lmao but yeah. a whole episode like that would have been so much fun

- they should have let chris colfer write more episodes. purely for the fact that he wrote with his own bare hands the whole scene where lea michelle’s character gets dragged down a road by dogs. this guy. it’s a shame he only got to write one since he actually did a really good job! i would have loved to have seen what other episode ideas he had :)

- glee in the summer! obviously it only was centred around the school year but after season 3 who honestly gave a shit about the glee club and mckinley lmao i wanna see them in SHORT SHORTS and POOL PARTIES but nope we just got september - june so like rip all my hopes and dreams

- WHAT HAPPENED TO DALTON? bitch just burst into flames ?? and for WHAT?? oh yeah plot convenience smh this is so sad i wish they’d either written something better than “we need the warblers to team up with new directions so uhhh the school burnt down” like. it’s a private school. if the school is gone and they’re just staying at mckinley what are the parents paying for? they’re just cool with sending their kids off to public school now? every adult in this universe has been murdered by these kids, haven’t they? they’re just doing whatever they want jfc

- a wedding was a good episode. ish. and yknow, huge kudos to them because gay marriage wasn’t legal in the us at the time so im less harsh on the fact that they definitely threw up the rainbow flags and made it less about the characters getting married and more so “we have gay characters and look they’re getting married what a concept” but i do wish we could have gotten some more married!klaine since they don’t really have much to do after this understandably but a little moment alone together after the wedding would have been nice :) IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IM TELLING YOU

- get rid of the hummelberry friendship and send mercedes to new york instead. i have nothing else to add to this other than the fact that i mourn the fact that kurt and mercedes went from bffs to just. school mates. this is tragic this is traaaaagic !! and all for more of the rachel berry show smh

- every day i wonder what was going through carmen tibideaux mind when she watched the kurt hummel preform not the boy next door and was like :) and then watched rachel berry have a breakdown on stage and then proceeded to give rachel the spot at nyada and kurt gets payed literal dust. and THEN she had the nerve to tell him it was because his performance had no heart. AND HOW DID ADAM GET IN THIS BABY GOT BACK MOTHERFUCKER?! nyada is a circus school oh my god !!!!! kurt deserved better im telling yall he deserved so much better

there’s so much more i could rant about but im going insane im so tired and i need psychological help after watching glee so im gonna leave it here and say peace out homies it’s been fun but i need to sleep so bad

#this is insanity #how did this happen #glee #tw hate crime mention #tw suicide mention #tw mental health mention #this was from my drafts lmao

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impala-dreamer · 5 years

Text

Ragdoll

SPN FanFic

~Most of the time curses kill you, sometimes they just cause a ton of problems. But sometimes...very occasionally, they can fulfil one of your darkest desires.~

Dean x Reader x Sam (no wincest), Mentions of Bobby

3,740 Words

Warnings: NSFW!!! Case Angst. Magical Interference. Curse. Established Polygamous Relationship. Brotherly Banter. Magical Transformation Due To Curse. Oral. Face Fucking. Spitroasting. Creampie. Multiple Orgasms. Mentions of Pizza.

A/N: This was a prompt from my 3some Party that just now got done. Thanks to my love @because-imma-lady-assface and thank you to @justcallmeasmodeus and @feelmyroarrrr for reading it over. I hope you all enjoy. I quite love it.

Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

Dean stood before the witch, pistol drawn and on the ready. His bowed legs were spread, green eyes locked, shoulders squared.

He took aim.

So did the witch.

The hag pulled her palms apart, conjuring up a ball of red, sparkling light. The air seemed to crackle with lightning as the ball grew, and even Dean, ready to strike, was awed by the pressure in the room.

In a split second of distraction, Dean dropped his gun just a hair and the witch struck.

The room filled with blinding red light and the electric ball shot across the room at Dean.

He cringed.

Sam yelled.

Y/N screamed.

There was a loud pop and then silence. Dean gasped and opened his eyes, finding the room back to normal and the witch gone. He took a deep breath and patted his chest with both hands, expecting to find a gaping hole or smoking flannel, but he was fine.

Surprised, he looked to his right and smirked at Sam. "Guess the bitch missed."

Sam shook his head and dove towards Dean's feet. "No!"

Y/N was on the floor, laid out, arms and legs twisted beneath her. She'd jumped in front of the spell, taking the hit for Dean.

"Fuck! Y/N, no!" Dean fell to his knees, hands frantically waving over the top of her frozen form, unsure of what to do as worry and guilt swirled in his head.

Sam slid down and scooped her up, nearly knocking Dean on his ass as he forced an arm beneath Y/N's head. He checked her pulse and then slapped her cheek hard, pulling her back to consciousness.

"Jesus fuck!" She shot up out of Sam's arms, pulling in a loud breath that gave Dean permission to breathe as well.

"Damnit, Y/N!" he cursed, turning away so she couldn't see the wetness of relief in his eyes. "Why did you do that!"

Y/N rolled her eyes as Sam helped her up. "You're welcome! Geeze, save a man's life and he gets all snippy…"

"You can't do things like that!" Dean barked, spinning around with fear in his eyes. "You had no idea what that spell was!"

"So I should have just let it hit you and found out?" She pulled away from Sam and wobbled forward a bit. "I don't think so!"

Dean balled his fists. "It could have killed you!"

Y/N grit her teeth. "It could have killed you!" She took a step but her toes felt funny, numb.

"Damnit, woman!"

"It didn't kill me, so..whatever!" She tossed her hands up in aggravated doneness and attempted to turn away, but Dean grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Don't do that again." He held her tight.

"Fine." She softened, shoulders and voice falling gently.

"Liar." He smiled.

"Asshole." She grinned.

"Can we go now?" Sam sighed.

They kissed.

Sam shook his head and turned for the door.

The drive back to the motel was fairly long as they had tracked the witch almost across the entire county.

Sam had his nose in the files while Dean worried a hole in his bottom lip, teeth digging in while he hugged the road.

"No idea what that was?" he asked his brother for the umpteenth time. "You didn't hear anything? No spell? You sure?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I really didn't. I was a little busy fighting off the pitbull. By the way, he nearly chewed through my boot. But I'm fine, thanks."

Y/N sat forward and patted Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby. We'll get you some new shoes after we dump this cunt in a hole."

Sam grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently.

Y/N noticed vaguely that she couldn't feel the usual stubble atop his lip.

"You still feeling ok?" Dean asked, eyeing her through the rearview.

Y/N sat back and gave him a tight smile. "I'm fine, Dean…"

"Don't get all annoyed at me," he scoffed. "You did something stupid."

"Yeah, yeah." Y/N rolled her eyes and turned towards the window, crossing her arms as she went. She felt the pressure as she whacked her elbow on the door, but the pain of it wasn't there. She shrugged it off and lay her head down, letting the rumble of the Impala rock her to sleep.

"Hey! We're here!"

Dean's palm slapped the back of the seat; the cracking leather and his deep voice pulling Y/N awake.

"Yeah," she mumbled, rubbing her drool covered cheek on her shoulder, "I'm up." She sat up, giving herself a sleepy shove away from the door, but she felt heavy, wrong.

The Impala rocked from side to side as the brothers vacated, doors squeaking on their hinges. Y/N shook her head, trying to clear away the last dregs of slumber, and reached for the door handle. Her shoulder twitched but her hand refused to move.

"Um."

Thinking perhaps she'd been leaning on a nerve and it fell asleep, Y/N reached for the door with her left hand.

It refused, barely lifting off of her lap.

"Um…"

She tried again with both hands, but she could not control her arms; everything below her elbows felt like lead.

With a small nugget of panic rising in her gut, she tried to wiggle her toes, then turn her ankles, extend her knees, but again- nothing. She could feel the seat beneath her, feel the pressure of trying to move, but her body would not cooperate.

"Um!"

Sam turned as he heard her shout. "What's wrong?" He opened the door and Y/N looked up with a worried but comical smile.

"Hey, so, you know that giant ball of witch power I took to the chest?"

Sam carried her to the room and lay her out on the bed, back propped up by every pillow in the double room. She watched as the boys scuffled about, Sam flipping through a random text, Dean barely concentrating on the computer as his eyes kept coming back to Y/N.

"You sure you're not in pain?" he asked, brow creased with worry.

Y/N smiled gently and attempted to shrug, but her arms, shoulder down, were blocks of granite. "I'm really not," she said honestly. "It's just annoying."

"And you are having no trouble breathing? Anything like that?" Sam inquired, eyes lifting from his book.

"Nope."

“Well, that’s good.”

Dean eyed him suspiciously. “How is this good?”

Sam sighed and put his book aside, giving up on it. “Well, generally, with full-body paralysis like this, the lungs and heart and internal organs are affected as well, usually making it hard for the body to continue… being alive.” Dean sat up, more concerned than ever, but Sam held up a hand. “But that’s not happening here, it seems. Just… she’s gone…”

“Limp,” Dean said sadly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m right here, ya know,” Y/N hissed, trying to shake her head in annoyance, but unable to move her neck. “Fuck. Guys…I can’t…” Her voice went high and tight and her eyes wet with frustration.

Dean left the table and sat by her side, warm fingers closing around her useless hand. “You’re gonna be OK, babygirl. OK?” He smiled sadly and squeezed her fingers. “You can still feel that, right?”

She tried to nod, but nothing moved. “I can. I… I’m so sorry, Dean. This is a waste of time and I shouldn’t have, I just… I couldn’t watch you get hurt again.”

“Stop that right now.” Dean gave her a true smile and leaned over her, kissing her forehead and then the apple of each cheek, then the tip of her nose. “We’ll fix this.”

“Dean?” she breathed, almost a hum against him. “I can feel your hand…”

Looking down, he noticed that his left hand had dropped almost automatically to her right breast as he leaned over; nothing unusual or unwanted, just odd in timing. He pulled back almost instantly.

“I’m... oops.” He laughed and Y/N smiled.

“It’s OK. I’m glad I can still feel it.”

Dean licked his lip slyly and gave her nipple a quick tweak. Y/N gasped and her eyes fluttered.

“Oh...ok…” she moaned. “That’s...wow. Yes. Please.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow in interest and let his fingers close around her tit, squeezing gently.

Her lips parted with a heavy sigh. "Use me, Dean…"

Sam interrupted. “That’s it!” he announced, jumping up and stomping towards the door. “I’m calling Bobby.”

Dean turned to watch him go, shrugging as the door slammed shut. Back to Y/N, he shifted on the bed and cupped both of Y/N’s breasts, watching carefully as her eyes glazed over.

“Can you feel that?”

“Yes…”

His thumbs rolled over her nipples until they were hard. “And that?”

Y/N moaned. “Yeah.”

He leaned down and kissed her slowly, sucking on her bottom lip. “Feel that?”

“Mmm.” Her tongue fell still against his, but her heavy breaths urged him on.

“And this?” Scratchy lips drifted slowly down across her jaw to settle beneath her ear.

“Ahh…”

Dean blew a thin stream of air across her ear and he felt her skin pimple beneath his fingertips. “This?”

Y/N made a throaty noise, but her tongue was immobile, her lips stuck slightly parted. He felt so good, so heavy on top of her, but she could do little more than moan and blink.

He snuck a hand up beneath her shirt, calloused fingertips scraping against her belly. Dean leaned in harder, sucking on her collarbone while he reached for her tit.

The door opened and closed loudly, Sam bounding in with information on his tongue. He looked up and nearly dropped his phone as he saw Dean molesting Y/N.

“Dean, what the fuck!”

“No, no…” Dean defended, climbing off the bed. “She likes it. She can feel it and was talking and asking for it just a minute ago.”

Sam looked over his brother at Y/N who lay like a statue on the pillows. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, her eyes wide and staring, lips parted. “Y/N?”

She didn’t move, entire body locked in place, but made a noise, pushing out a deep breath.

“See? She’s fine.” Dean smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, but quickly dropped them as Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s tented jeans.

“Ya know…”

Dean cleared his throat. “So, any news?”

Sam put his phone on the table and nodded. “Bobby says it’s a simple Boneca Curse, seems similar to one he saw a few years back. It’s basically just a self-defense tactic to buy time. It should wear off in about six hours. Doesn’t kill you, just turns you into a…”

“Ragdoll.”

“Yeah.”

Dean smirked, looking back at Y/N. “Fun.”

Sam startled. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, eyes widening with an idea. “Watch.”

He returned to the bed and picked up Y/N’s left arm, holding it high and then letting it drop. It hit the bed, bouncing slightly on the crappy mattress, and then went still.

“Real mature,” Sam scolded.

Dean ignored him and carefully lifted both of Y/N’s arms above her head. They lay where he put them, gently resting on the pillows. He then spread her legs with care, running his hands firmly up her inner thighs as he went. Finally, he puckered her lips, tilting her chin down a bit.

“What are you doing?” Sam sighed, trying to remain unaffected by the sexual possibilities. She looked like a sex doll, open and ready to play.

“Instant bondage, no ropes!” Dean explained, proud of himself. “She can’t move, can’t squirm away. This is awesome.”

Sam shook his head and moved towards the scene. “Can’t give her consent, can’t use her safe word...this isn’t OK, Dean.”

Dean sucked his teeth. "Ya know, back when you didn't have a soul, you would have been all over this."

"Which should tell you something."

Y/N groaned and the boys turned their heads to her.

"I think she's trying to say something," Sam observed, moving to lean his ear to her lips.

"...ee..ssee…"

Dean looked over his shoulder. "What'd she say?"

"I don't know. I think she said please."

Dean snapped his fingers victoriously. "Told ya! Dude, she was begging for it two minutes ago. Trust me. This is like a huge fantasy for her."

Sam's neck nearly broke it spun around so fast. "She's said that?"

"I mean, not the whole curse thing, but the unable to move…" Dean waved his hands over Y/N, trying to articulate, "...frozen, time stop, sex doll thing. Yeah."

Sam frowned in interest and looked back at Y/N. "Really?"

"What, you guys don't talk about your kinks and stuff?"

Sam shook his head. "No, we talk about normal things like books and art and lore."

Dean laughed. "Your pillow talk needs work, brother."

There was a long pause during which Sam debated his entire life. He thought about Y/N and how much he loved to make her cum like a fountain on his dick, remembered every moral philosophy book he'd ever read and there were a few, then concluded without question that he was in no way going to touch or allow Dean to touch Y/N while she was in such a state.

Just as Sam moved to get up, Y/N made a noise that wasn't too far from but not quite his name, and Sam gave in to the impossibly shady but ultimately alluring situation. He kissed her hard, marveling at the feel of her lips. She was locked in place yet pliable, soft and warm. She couldn't kiss him back, but she moaned appreciatively when Sam bit down on her lip.

Dean took advantage of Sam's distraction and slowly began to undress her, taking care to use gentle fingers as he peeled off her boots, socks, jeans, and panties. When he reached her bare pussy, he let out a whistle that pulled Sam's eyes downwards.

"Look at that, Sammy," he beamed. "Pretty girl's all wet and ready for us."

Sam pinched her nipples through her shirt and watched in amazement as her pussy visibly clenched. "Well now...this may actually be fun."

Dean crawled onto the bed and fit himself between her legs, sitting up on his knees. "Come on, Sam, this was already fun." He grabbed Y/N's ankles gently and pushed, bending her knees as he spread them wider. Again, she stayed where he put her and Dean licked his lips. "So much fun."

Sam heard a rip of metal and looked back in shock as Dean was unsheathing his cock.

“You’re not gonna do that,” Sam hissed under his breath.

Fisting his cock and nudging the tip through Y/N’s already slick hole, Dean;s head wobbled in confusion. “Uh… yeah, I am.”

Y/N moaned happily as Dean pushed inside, just an inch, just to see what she’d do. Of course, she did nothing; body remaining exactly as he’d positioned it, but inside she was screaming for more, begging with all her soul for him to fuck her nice and hard while Sam watched on.

"Holy shit, she's so wet." Dean nearly purred as he thrust in a bit more, cock swallowed by her slick heat. "So...wet." His eyes rolled closed and he rocked his hips, bottoming out slowly, savoring the moment.

"Fuck." Sam stared at Y/N's blank, doll like expression as Dean began to move. He could feel the bed move with each thrust, hear Dean pushing through her wetness, but Y/N remained unchanged. Despite his worry, it was incredibly hot and he tugged at his jeans awkwardly, trying to give his hardening dick some space.

Dean noticed Sam's discomfort. "You don't have to just sit there like a lump, you know."

Sam twisted around, cheeks rudy with embarrassment. "What?"

"She's...fuck...she's got a mouth, Sam…"

Dean fell forward, hands catching on the mattress beside her waist and shut out the world, focusing on the delicious tightness of Y/N's cunt; imagining what she must be thinking, pretending he could hear her usual moans and screams.

Sam drew a finger across Y/N's cheek, curling it under her chin when he reached it. Curiously, he gave a little pull and her head turned towards him without a hint of hesitation. "Wow."

Y/N's breath crackled in her throat. He wished he could see a spark, hear a plea, something, anything, but she was a living statue. A true doll ready to be played with.

It didn't take him long to make the choice, his dick was throbbing painfully in his jeans.

Gently, he opened her mouth and squeezed her cheeks a bit, forming a beautiful pink circle into which he dipped the head of his cock. Her mouth watered around him and she moaned gratefully.

"Hear that?" Dean asked, voice a husky whisper as he picked up speed, "she always loves a good double stuff."

Sam ignored him, keeping his gaze on Y/N's empty, expressionless eyes as he slowly fucking into her mouth. "God, you're beautiful," he growled, speaking to the ragdoll who couldn't acknowledge.

Inside, she blushed. Inside, she gagged around his massive cock. Inside, she thrashed and twisted and clawed and tightened and screamed as her body shook with orgasm.

Outside, she was silent, but her cunt spasmed hard around Dean.

"Holy fuck!" He shivered and pushed up again, thrusting faster. "I think she just came."

"Such a good...fuckdoll," Sam praised, sliding through her lips again. An idea floated through his head and Sam grabbed her left hand, turning her wrist and arranging her fingers so that she cupped his balls perfectly. "So good."

With a smirk, Dean followed suit, yanking Y/N's shirt up over her chest and placing her right hand on her breast. For fun, he squeezed her fingers so they stayed tight around the soft flesh, dumpling it perfectly.

"There ya go, baby," he teased. "I know you like to play with your tits when you cum."

Her cunt clenched in response and Dean lifted her knees, hooking them around his sides so he could take her deeper. The new angle made her hum deeply and after four good snaps of Dean's hips, she was cumming again, this time letting loose a hot stream against him.

"Fuck, Y/N!" Dean grunted with each thrust and then came, unable to hold back any longer.

He rolled away after a while, pants and shirt a wet mess. He lay on his back and dragged a hand down his face as he caught his breath, amazed that Y/N still had not moved. Her legs were as he'd left them, spread wide, pussy swollen and leaking his cum. He thought for a second about grabbing his phone and snapping a picture to show her later, but it was so far away, and his blood was still relocating back through his limbs.

Now that Sam had her all to himself, he went to town, pulling away to readjust his dollie. She moved so easily, as if she weighed nothing at all, and Sam quickly got her sitting up on her knees. With some effort, her removed her shirt and posed her hands to cup her naked tits, offering them up to him.

"You're way too into this, dude," Dean laughed, watching from his spot.

"Go take a shower," Sam snapped, maneuvering her head to sit where he wanted.

"Whatever."

The bathroom door slammed and Sam pushed his fingers through Y/N's hair, tangling tightly so he could pull her head back and forth.

Wide eyes stared, flat tongue lay still, heart raced.

Sam fucked her face until he felt her gag, jabbing his hips into her again and again. Tears fell and her voice rumbled; Sam went faster.

When he was close, he pulled out and took over, staring down at her pretty tits as he jerked himself off, aiming for her presented nipples as his target.

"Fuck! Goddammit, shit!"

Y/N stayed still, a living statue painted with his hot cum, face not showing a glimpse of the bliss rolling inside. She came again, mind blown as her cunt pulsed, soaking into the bed below.

Out of breath and growling, Sam hopped down off of the bed and grabbed her face in one hand, turning her lips upwards for a deep kiss.

"Thanks," he whispered.

Deep inside, Y/N thanked him in return.

"Go get me pizza," Y/N mumbled, stretching out her arms and nearly rolling out of bed.

Dean's head snapped towards her and he got up from the couch. "Hey, baby," he smiled, coming to sit by her side. "Feeling better?"

"I'm starving. Please go get me pizza."

He laughed and kissed her forehead, relieved the spell was fading. "Sam went to get some food."

"Good."

On cue, Sam was there, struggling to open the door with two paper bags and a cup holder in his hands. "Please, don't help," he sassed.

Dean shrugged. "Wasn't gonna."

Sam dropped dinner on the table and pulled a soda out for Y/N. "Drink," he said, shoving a straw in her face. "You need sugar."

"Think I already got some," she teased, reaching out to pinch his ass.

"You back to normal?"

She sighed and nodded. "I feel everything again. I'm back to normal." For emphasis, she wagged her fingers at him and winked. "All good. Sadly."

Sam cocked his head. "Sadly?"

"I mean… That was a fucking dream come true," she sighed and took a drink, staring off into nothing, remembering.

"Was pretty awesome," Dean agreed.

Sam smiled reluctantly. "It was."

Dean laughed. "Especially round two when you put her on the table and-"

"Oh, that was hot!" Y/N cut in, nodding enthusiastically. "And when you used the-"

Sam threw up his hands, done. "OK. It was hot! Do we need to talk about every detail?"

Y/N shrugged and chewed her straw. "I'm just saying...if you ever wanna use bedsheets like that again...I'm down."

Sam's face burned bright. "Please stop."

Dean laughed and fished a but her from the bag. "Such a prude, Sammy. Embrace your inner freak."

"Shut up!"

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

"I love you guys." Y/N sighed, sinking back against the pillows with a very satisfied smile.

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#spn fanfic #dean x reader x sam #dean x reader #sam x reader #smut #let's try this again #kinky stuff #one shot

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jewels2876 · 5 years

Text

It’s Someone’s Fault

A/N: Tropes, tropes, who likes tropes? I picked the bold line below from the @the-ss-horniest-book-club HBC Time to Fall challenge and worked out the locked trope and threw in sharing the same bed ... who am I?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1782

Warnings: mild swearing

It wasn’t your fault that your feet were colder than blocks of ice. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that the weather decided not to cooperate on the one weekend you had been assigned a mission to the Pocono’s at the end of September. It was Tony’s fault, and maybe Steve’s, that this mission was ‘suddenly’ give to the two of you, instead of Steve as originally planned.

“Who the hell didn’t give us a key?” you whined as you tried the door for the hundredth time. You and Bucky had been keeping an eye on this place for two days before you decided to try and get in. The door had shut behind Bucky and now you were both trapped. It had only been one day and you were both ready to kill… okay maybe maim, each other.

Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath. You shook your head then rolled your eyes. “I’m going to get a shower,” you decided.

“Fine,” he sneered. “Not like I could use one or anything.”

You gave him the finger and stomped off in a huff. You never knew why Bucky was so short with you; you had gone out of your way to be friendly to him, and to everyone really, when you had joined the Avengers after the fall of SHIELD.

“Real mature y/n!” he yelled at your back.

Your shower was a mess: you couldn’t get the temperature just right, your towel got wet, and the water didn’t even last 10 minutes. You muttered a lot of “shits” and “fucks” as you toweled off with a frown and threw on some clothes. You thought about grabbing a pair of socks out of Bucky’s luggage but didn’t want to hear his whining.

The rest of the night was as great as the shower. Bucky tried to avoid you as much as he could, but with only a living room, kitchen and single bedroom with one bed, it was hard to do. Finally the two of you agreed to go to bed. Bucky offered you the bed. “I can see about starting a fire I guess?” he had shrugged as he looked around.

“With what wood? You gonna go out now and chop some?”

He stuck his tongue out at you as you closed the bedroom door with one last retort. “Real mature Bucky!”

The next morning both you and Bucky woke up to grey skies and pouring rain. You groaned and opened the bedroom door. Bucky was hanging half off the couch, his legs wrapped up in a tiny blanket. You felt guilty seeing him like this until you heard his snore. You chuckled to yourself and grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard.

Bucky shot up. “Who the…? Oh, it’s you.” He thought you looked cute with your robe tied around you, padding around in bare feet. But am I going to admit that, he harassed himself, no!

You were pouring out some cereal you found as you watched Bucky’s face move through different emotions. You decided enough was enough.

“Bucky, give it to me straight. If you hate me that’s fine, but if we’re gonna be locked in here, with this cold, rainy weather, you may as well tell me why.”

Bucky had the sense to look ashamed. “I don’t hate you,” he whispered.

“You don’t? You pick on me, you go out of your way to piss me off, you pretty much find a way to get under my skin on the daily.” You crossed your arms and stared into his eyes. “So are we in kindergarten now?”

“No! I just...I don’t... I’m a guy,” Bucky started. He saw you winding up and he held up a hand to keep you quiet. “I don’t talk about my feelings, I barely know WHAT I’m feeling, or how I’m feeling. And then you… you come in and you’re this light, happy person who doesn’t seem to any of my problems, makes friends with everyone, and I just…”

“Just what?”

“I was intimidated by you, I think. I knew that I couldn’t...wouldn’t… that I wasn’t what you were looking for,” he finished.

You took a bite of your now soggy cereal. You didn’t know how to respond to this revelation. But something tickled a part of your brain. You shoved it aside as you shoved the bowl of cereal away as well. “Okay, I need to think about this. I don’t know what to think. Are you gonna be okay if I hide in the bedroom for a bit?” Bucky nodded and you left the room.

You took a seat on the bed and started thinking about Bucky’s confession. You grabbed a pillow and stretched out, letting your mind wander some more. Before long you drifted off into a fitful sleep.

A knock startled you and you jerked up. The grey hadn’t gone away but the rain had tapered down. Bucky opened the bedroom door, a pile of blankets in his hands. “Are you ok?” He didn’t give you time to answer as he walked in. “I found a ton of blankets in a storage closet. I think we’ll be okay to ride this out.”

You nodded and cleared your throat. “Sounds good. And Bucky?” He looked at you, hope clear on his face. “You can share the bed with me. You looked really uncomfortable on the couch this morning.”

Bucky started to follow you into the bathroom; you whipped around and frowned. “I didn’t invite you to come with me.” Bucky stood at the edge of the bathroom as you gathered your fuzzy bathrobe, the one warm item you had thought to bring. You gave Bucky the stink eye, with a smile and a chuckle, and closed the door on him. You heard his footsteps retreating from the bathroom and took a deep sigh. You disrobed, stepped into the shower and let the water warm up before you stood under it. You relaxed as the water cascaded across your hair and skin; you finished up your shower and toweled off. Then you slipped your robe back on and exited.

Bucky jumped into the bathroom the minute you exited. “You better have saved me some hot water!” he yelled with a grin as he shut the door behind you.

You ignored him and walked into the bedroom to stare at the clothes in your suitcase. You slipped on a pretty pair of blue panties and matching bra, then the black leggings you had tossed in last minute. Your feet were already getting cold, still wet against the wooden floors. You sighed as you realized you hadn’t brought a single pair of socks or slippers with you.

You decided to inspect Bucky’s suitcase and noticed several pairs of dark washed jeans and grey thermal shirts before you found a large stash of socks. You pulled out a pair of purple and black striped ones. “Who knew that’s what he’s hiding under his boots?” you giggled. You heard the shower stop and quickly threw on the socks and the one long sleeved tee shirt in your bad before scurrying to the kitchen.

Bucky stepped into the bedroom, noting the silence. I shouldn’t be so hard on her, he chastised himself. It’s not her fault I’ve had a crush on her and can’t deal with it. He grabbed a clean thermal and pair of jeans, forgoing any underwear. His nose caught a familiar scent and he made his way to the kitchen. He watched as you danced around to some unknown song, moving between the stove and the sink. He smiled to himself, admiring your ass in the leggings. You turned around and yelped.

“Jesus, Bucky! Don’t scare me like that?”

He could now see the pot on the stovetop and a small pile of grilled cheese sandwiches. “Doll! Are you making me dinner? How… housewife like.”

You smirked and set the third sandwich on top of your pile. “Who said I was sharing?”

Bucky looked down at your feet and smirked back “Oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?” He gave you a wink and you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up from your chest.

“Yes, because I don’t have any socks or slippers,” you whined. “It was supposed to be warmer than this! And less windy! And your socks looked so…”

Bucky placed a finger to your lips. You startled at his touch, afraid to say or do anything that might ruin the moment. You sighed and moved a step back to stir the soup.

“If you can grab some plates, I’ll finish the last sandwich and soup,” you told Bucky. He wasted no time and grabbed the plates. A few minutes later, you put the last sandwich on your pile and tested the soup’s temperature.

Bucky ladled out some soup as you set the plate of sandwiches down. “Which of my confessions put you to sleep?” he teased.

You grabbed the other bowl and served yourself some soup before answering. “Sorry about the falling asleep. But honestly,” you set your bowl down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a sandwich, “I’ve always liked you. I just never knew how to get to know you better.”

Bucky started to say something but you kept going. “I asked Nat and Sam and Clint and Steve…”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted, “when did you ask Steve?”

“About… fuck!”

You both looked at each other and laughed. “Do you think the door will work now?” you wondered aloud.

“If I know my best friend, nope. They will totally make us share the damn bed before that happens.”

A Few Hours Later

“Jesus, woman! You have cold feet!” Bucky yelped.

You pouted and moved your feet away from his legs. “Sorry.”

Bucky pulled you back to his chest, cringing only slightly when your cold feet grazed his legs again. “‘M sorry babe. I know it’s not your fault. Hold on just a sec.” He jumped out of the bed, wishing for not the first time he had put on underwear, and grabbed a pair of socks. He put them on your feet before tickling you. You giggled and his heart felt lighter than it had when this mission started. “Let’s be thankful I found a ton of blankets in the storage closet too.” As if on cue the wind blew and rattled the window opposite the bed. You both snuggled in closer. “Your feet already have warmed up,” he teased. “Are you comfortable enough?” He heard your gentle snore and glanced down at you, head on his chest, arm wrapped around his waist. He kissed the top of your head and let himself drift off to sleep.

fin

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#hbc #hbc time to fall challenge #bucky x reader #locked in trope #share the same bed #fluff #bit of angst

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 5 years

Text

Afraid (Nikki Sixx X reader)

Summary: You meet Sikki Nixx, but then you meet Nikki Sixx and your world is forever altered.

Warnings: Drug use mention, Alcohol mention, ya know Motley things.

1986

I felt like I was underwater. Things were muddled and voices were funny. I had never been so happy. The quaalude my friend Sam had given me had kicked in and I let myself sink further into the sofa I had been sitting on. I wasn’t sure how I ended up at this party with her, we had been drinking at a bar on the strip and next thing I knew we were entering a limo, but they had basically unlimited drugs here so I wasn’t going to complain. I felt the couch shift next to me and heard the person say something, but I couldn’t make it out. Focus (y/n).

“What?” I turned to face the noise and was met with mostly disheveled black hair and the face of a strung out man.

“I said, do you know where I can score smack?” He asked irritated. Oh a junkie, great.

“Mmm no. I don’t know anybody here. I have a quaalude though?” I said lazily opening my hand to reveal the pill sitting in my grip.

“It’s not the same, but it’ll tide me over I guess.” He took the pill out of my hand and popped it into his mouth. “So if you don’t know anybody how did you get in? Are you a stripper or a groupie?”

I scoffed at that. Was I really being judged by a fucking junkie? “I got dragged here in some limo, not that it’s any of your fucking business.” I snapped and rolled my eyes. I wish I hadn’t even offered him my other pill.

“So one of your friends must be fucking someone here.” He laughed. I was getting really annoyed by his arrogant tone.

“Didn’t you just ask me for heroin?” I asked angrily. I wasn’t a violent person by nature, but I could be pushed and I didn’t fear a man who looked like a human pin cushion.

“You know you’re really a bitch.” He snarled standing up. “I’m Nikki fucking Sixx, any girl would be creaming their fucking panties to be talking to me.”

Now that he had said his name I could really see who he was, thanks drugs. I liked Motley Crue and had even seen them live a few times, and he didn’t even look like Nikki Sixx he was so strung out. It kinda made me sad.

“Yeah well I’m more of a Bon Jovi kind of girl anyway. Motley isn’t my cup of tea.” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him I actually liked his band.

“So you just all around have horrible fucking taste” He scoffed. “Fuck you I don’t want to sit here talking to some dumb bitch who doesn’t even know good rock and roll when she hears it.”

And with that he was gone. What a fucking prick.j

1988

I woke up in the back of someone’s car. Oh fuck it finally happened, I was being sold into sex slavery. I started to hyperventalate and panic and tried shutting my eyes and hoping this was a dream when I heard a familiar voice in the front seat.

“Oh hey I think she woke up. (Y/N)?” Sam spoke softly and I felt my heart rate immediately slow down. So I wasn’t kidnapped.

“Where, where am I?” I groaned sitting up my whole body hurting.

“We are in the car” She said slowly looking at me through the rear view mirror.

“Why? Weren’t we just at a party? I don’t remember leaving.” I was trying to put the pieces together of what happened last night.

“We were.” She said with a tight smile hiding something “You passed out.”

Oh yeah, I had taken some pills given to me by one of the band members at the party we were at last night. I vaguely remember downing a bottle of Jack with some other members of a band as well. Who was driving? I looked up to see a very tired Tom Zutaut driving giving me the same tight lipped smile.

“Guys where are we going?” I asked glancing frantically out the window. This all looked way too familiar.

“Well” Sam cleared her throat “You see…”

“(Y/N) we’re taking you to rehab” Tom finished her sentence for her.

“NO! WHAT? FUCK YOU, LET ME OUT” I screamed trying to pry the door open. I didn’t need rehab, I was fine.

“(Y/N), it’s this or everyone is done with you.” Sam sobbed “None of us want to watch you keep trying to kill yourself and you’re failing at your job, which is not the (y/n) I know.”

They couldn’t be doing this to me. They wouldn’t be doing this to me. I was fine, this had to be a sick joke.

“It’s not a sick joke.” Tom said exasperated. Oh I must have been speaking out loud.

“I’m not even a junkie” I sobbed. Rehab was for junkies.

“Not yet, but you pop pills like you aren’t far off.” Tom scowled through the rear view at me.

“I’ll stop. Please don’t make me do rehab guys.” I cried holding my leather closer to me.

“It’ll be okay (y/n). You’re going to a very nice rehab on behalf of Elektra themselves.” Sam tried to reassure me by rubbing my leg.

“Wait why?” I worked for them, but why would they pay for my rehab stint?

“Because Motley Crue is going to the same rehab.” Tom filled in. Fuck. No. Not Nikki Sixx. Anyone but Nikki Sixx.

I gulped and mentally prepared myself for the worst experience in the world. “Can I at least get a cigarette?”

Sam handed me one and a lighter and I cranked my window down feeling the warm L.A. air on my face. Okay, all I had to do was cooperate with these doctors and I could probably even leave early, right? Like with jail? I made a mental note to ask Vince if I saw him since he had done this rehab shit before after his accident. The smoke filled my lungs and I breathed out feeling the nicotine work it’s magic. As long as I could still smoke cigarettes I would be okay.

“So what will happen with Alarik?” I suddenly remembered the small black cat in my apartment probably taking a sun nap on my bed.

“I will take care of him while you’re in the center. It’s only thirty days.” Sam responded wiggling her set of keys for my apartment in her hand.

“Well I guess you guys have already had this planned out” I whispered suddenly overcome with sadness about the situation. I felt a few tears cascade down my cheeks and quickly wiped them away. I wasn’t weak. I was raised to not cry. I knew better than to let my emotions take over.

“Well babe you didn’t give us much of a choice.” Sam said solemnly.

“I just want to get this over with honestly” I grumbled. I wasn’t looking forward to having anything to do with Motley Crue or Nikki Sixx after our last encounter a little over a year ago. I hadn’t been working for Elektra then and he hadn’t OD’ed yet. So who knows maybe now that we’re getting sober we’ll be able to get along well. I was right and wrong. We got along better while getting sober, but we didn’t get along well. I didn’t know that Nikki would be the best and worst thing to ever happen to me when we pulled up to the fancy rehab center and saw all the motley boys standing with their suitcases in hand at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s the vagina?” Nikki asked when I climbed out of Tom’s car.

“Excuse me?” I snapped stomping up to him. “‘The vagina’ is a person and has a fucking name.”

“No need to be a bitch. I just don’t know you.” Nikki shrugged his bony shoulders. He looked worse than you thought he would with track marks littering both his arms.

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a prick, you would’ve gotten my name last time we met” I poked his chest.

“We’ve never met, I can guarantee that.” He smirked grabbing my finger and shoving it away from his chest.

“Actually I shared a quaalude with you once and you called me a bitch in return so you didn’t get my name, Prikki” I taunted.

“Well it seems my assessment of you the first time we met was accurate then.” He still had the devilish smirk plastered on his face. I wanted to sock him and knock it right off his smug face.

“And my assessment of you being a junkie had been correct, clearly.” I growled.

Someone cleared their throat and we both snapped our attention to the people standing around us awkwardly watching our exchange.

“Well I’m Tommy” Tommy said holding out his hand with a huge grin.

“(Y/N)” I said returning the smile and shaking his hand.

“Wow pretty girl and a pretty name” Vince said giving me a once over. This was about to be a long thirty days.

Mick just cleared his throat and made a small wave while Sam and Tom resumed grabbing my things from the car. They led us up the stairs into the waiting room of the facility. It smelled far too clean, too much like bleach. I really hoped this wasn’t how the remaining thirty days were gonna go, cause things were not off to a good start whatsoever. We were led to our rooms by a nurse who informed us that Elektra had kindly paid for us all to be in one wing together, how sweet. My room ended up being directly across from Nikki’s. Great. Before I could make my way into my room I heard him say my name.

“Pleasant dreams neighbor” He smirked walking into his room and shutting the door.

How was I supposed to get sober when I felt like I needed to drink just dealing with Nikki?

#nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx fanfic #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx fic

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 20: On Thin Ice

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Suspicions arise and some truths come to light.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

If the frozen, slippery roads and pathways didn't kill you, you were sure the midterm would.

As if it wasn't enough that you had to keep track of months' worth of Math lessons — the traffic had made three separate attempts on your life on your way to school, though thankfully (or, rather, unfortunately. If you were dead, you wouldn't have to do the midterm) you'd managed to avert each by grabbing walls or radom poles to keep yourself on your feet.

Winter was a bitch.

Today of all days.

It was clear to you from the moment you'd opened your eyes that it would be a horrible, horrible day.

The frozen ground and your various close encounters with it were proof enough.

What confirmed it, though, was walking into your Math classroom and noticing the seat you'd counted on being occupied was empty.

Rowena wasn't there.

Seconds ticked by, the clock that hung above the board clicking with each one.

She wasn't coming.

Even as Ms. Hanscum wrote down presences and absences and handed out papers while going over instructions, she never showed up.

Was she sick again?

Had she slipped and fell on her way to school like you almost did?

Had she gotten hurt?

Rowena was a lot of things, but she loved her studies. She wouldn't ditch, especially not on such an important day. Whatever the reason for her absence was, it had to be serious.

You looked back to her seat longingly, eyes falling upon the empty chair. You thought she would be there — daydreamed about it — with that smug, satisfied smile on her face. That she would look at you, give you that smile she always gave you when she tutored you, the one of encouragement, of praise, that said, "You can do it" without a single word spoken aloud, and you would believe it because she was Rowena MacLeod and she'd never let you down before.

Dean caught your glance. He put on a big, goofy grin and held up his thumbs. You returned the gesture.

It was something.

He wasn't Rowena, but it was something.

Any shred of support was most welcome.

There was rumbling in the classroom, murmurs of voices whispering nervously. Friends encouraging friends. Groans and moans and privately-exchanged complaints. Then Ms. Hanscum announced the midterm was to start and everyone fell silent as if under a spell.

You scanned the paper with your eyes, heart beating wildly. The problems looked familiar, some of them strangely easy; Rowena had prepared you well. You instantly went to work. The sooner you got it over with, the better.

There were plenty of things you didn't know, numbers and formulas that confused you, but by the time the bell rang, you'd managed to complete the exam. Your nerves were going off like electric sparks the entire time, heart jumping with each number you wrote down.

You could do it, you kept telling yourself. You knew these lessons, had gone over them countless times with Rowena.

You could pass the damn midterm.

Your heart raced as you handed the paper over to Ms. Hanscum and exited the classroom. What if you didn't pass? What if all you thought you knew was wrong? What if—

No.

You weren't going to do this to yourself.

You'd studied, and while there was a lot of stuff you didn't know, a considerable amount you did.

You would get a D, at the very least.

You would pass.

You hurried to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on your face, washing away the concern that ate at you like acid. You were being silly. It was just an exam. A pretty important one, but still, it was just a piece of paper. One year from now, you would barely remember what was on it.

Christmas holidays were nearing; one more day and you were free.

Fuck the midterm.

You could worry about it in January.

That's right — it was future you's problem.

You found your friends in the cafeteria, occupying a small table. Sam was nibbling on a salad, while Meg, Castiel, and Dean seemed to be competing on who could eat their hamburger the fastest.

Meg was winning.

Crowley was sipping on his thermos. You took a sit next to him and grabbed the it, taking a small gulp — and instantly regretted it.

You slammed the thermos on the table and started coughing, the bitter taste burning at your throat. "Whiskey with coffee? Seriously?"

He just smirked. "I'm a genius."

"You're an idiot."

"You're bringing alcohol to school?" Sam asked, outraged.

Crowley shot him an amused look. "I'm sorry, does it offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"You can't do that!"

"I did." He took a long swig and licked his lips.

Your face twisted with disgust. "You're gross."

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but assface is onto something here," Meg said through a mouthful of her hamburger.

Crowley gestured to her. "You heard the lady."

Sam rolled his eyes, then sighed. "How'd the midterm go?"

"Okay, I guess," you said honestly. "I think I'll pass."

"Me, too!" Dean beamed. He took a large bite, swallowed it, then said, "Sam stayed up all night tutoring me!"

Sam shot him his signature bitchface. "Which I wouldn't have had to do if someone studied on time."

"I was busy," his brother replied, shrugging.

"Doing what? Reading Busty Asian Beauties?"

"Watching them. No one reads magazines anymore, Sam. Keep up."

"Yeah, Sam. Keep up," you snarked, earning you a bitchface as well. You turned to Crowley. "Where's your sister? She wasn't in Math."

An amused grin spread across his face. Too amused for your liking.

What had he done now?

"She slipped on ice last night. Fell right on her face." He laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. "You should've seen her. She looks like she wrestled a bear."

"W-what?"

Your voice broke as the word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Your heart stopped, froze in place. A chill, bitter, unsettling, slithered down your spine like thousands of insects creeping underneath your skin as unease, discomfort, washed over you, drenched you whole like a bitter downpour.

"Yes. Returning from her pimp's dwelling." Crowley smirked, then shrugged. "Maybe she had a rough date."

Oh, god.

"I'll sort it out with Lucifer," Rowena had said — promised, vowed — yesterday.

She'd meant it; you could see it in her eyes, the determination, the anger at his treatment of you. The rage that he'd gone after you on her behalf. Tried to tear you away from her.

She would take care if the issue.

And, if he threw another tantrum about it, he wasn't the boy for her.

Her words.

You'd clung to them since they first fell from her mouth. Went to sleep with them roiling in your head, an endless echo. Allowed a sliver of hope to light up inside you.

It was a hopeless kind of hope, one of a desperate, lovestruck teenager, but it was hope nonetheless.

What if she hadn't fallen?

What if Lucifer had hurt her?

Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.

"She's fine," Crowley said, noticing the sudden shift on your face. "Don't worry, kitten. As much as it saddens me, she'll live."

"I know," you said, feigning nonchalance. Badly. "I just…"

He rolled his eyes. "The claws are in good."

Your response was a middle finger raised high and proud.

He was right — Rowena had dug the claws in and clung to you for dear life.

And you held her to you, hoping — wishing — with all you had that she never let go.

*****

You waited until later that afternoon before heading to the MacLeods' residence. You needed to see Rowena, needed to talk to her alone, and you couldn't do that with Crowley slinking about. So you went over when you were sure he would be out; the boy was as predictable as he was annoying. With Ms. MacLeod at work and little Gavin playing in his room, oblivious to their troubles, you and Rowena basically had the house to yourselves.

If only you'd come over under better circumstances.

Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe she really had fallen.

But, with Lucifer the way he was yesterday, and her eagerness to confront him, you couldn't be sure.

You wouldn't put anything past the bastard.

The ground was still frozen, a new layer starting to form with the nightfall, air chilly enough to freeze the blood in your veins. Despite that, slowly but carefully you managed to make your way to the MacLeods' house.

You ran the bell, and the familiar voice shouted in that usual, annoyed tone, "Alright, alright! I'm coming!"

Your heart swelled with warmth. Injured or not, she was still the same Rowena you knew and loved.

She opened the door, and as your eyes landed on her, a loud, startled gasp broke free before you could try to stop it.

A bruise spread all over her left cheek, a deep, rich purple, as if someone had smeared a crayon over her skin. Her right cheek was red, raw; the color barely stood out, but you could tell it was more than a flush.

"Damn," you uttered.

"Aye. Damn," she repeated sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Mind getting in? It's quite cold outside."

"Yeah, no shit."

You hung your coat on the hanger, then followed her to her room. She was limping, painfully so; she tried to walk normally, tried to hide it, but her body refused to cooperate. Her lips were a firm line, shut tight. Teeth no doubt gritted to hold back pained hisses and yelps.

"So," she said, sitting down on the bed with a relieved sigh, "what brings you here?"

"Crowley told me you got hurt."

"Aye. Slipped on ice yesterday. Fell on my face." She chuckled. "Bloody lucky, aren't I?"

Right.

"Must've hurt," you said.

"Like a bitch."

The smile on her mouth was nervous. Deceitful. Fake, but not enough to fool you. She pulled her turtleneck further up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her chest as if she were cold, despite the room being fairly warm. The muscles in her legs were taut, tense, imprinted perfectly on her skin-tight leggings.

Those weren't the clothes she usually wore at home.

They weren't the clothes she wore anywhere.

Was she trying to hide something? More bruises, perhaps? Possibly worse than the one on her face — the one she couldn't hide.

If she were trying to keep warm, she wouldn't have gone barefoot. She would have turned the heat up and wrapped herself up in a blanket.

Your heart raced as the realization settled in.

Before it was just a suspicion, but now you knew.

She was lying.

Whatever had happened, it was far from what she'd claimed.

Mustering up the courage, you said, "How about you tell me what really happened?"

Rowena gulped. Something dark, fearful, flickered on her face, but she quickly smoothed it out. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Rowena. I'm not stupid. You didn't slip and fall."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Well… yes.

Wasn't the first time.

You sighed. Sucked in a deep breath. "Did… did Lucifer hurt you?"

"What?" Her eyes were wide at the suggestion, bewildered. She turned her head. "Why would you ask that?"

You were right.

A lump formed in your throat, painful to swallow.

Good god, you were right.

"Because he's a psychopath."

She said nothing to that. Gave in to the silence. As if she hadn't heard a word you'd said.

You tried again, "Did he do this to you?"

"No," she said in an absent, distant tone. An automatic response. A lie, a blatant one.

"Rowena—"

"He did nothing to me!" she snapped, turning back to look at you. Her eyes were filled with tears, the bitter liquid sliding down her cheeks like a downpour.

You flinched at the outburst as if struck.

Regret flashed over Rowena's face, hung over it like a painting.

She didn't mean to snap; you knew she didn't. She was a lot of things, but she was never mean to you. Never rude, cruel.

She'd lashed out.

Like an animal chased into a corner, scared and hurt, she reacted. She followed her instinct and went for the defensive.

As she'd done many times in the past.

As she'd learned.

Who knew how many times she'd had to do this? How many times she'd had to lie to cover up what Lucifer had done for fiction was easier — less painful, less complicated — than truth?

No one wanted to be a victim.

Least of all Rowena MacLeod.

The girl you knew was a fighter, a survivor. Admitting to the abuse would tarnish that image. How could she be this strong, tough girl who took no shit from anyone, the girl who ruled the school with an iron fist, if she let her boyfriend push her around? How could she uphold her reputation if she allowed him to use her as his punching bag?

A pang of pain shot through your heart. Ripped at it like talons digging in, tearing it apart, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

It was wrong.

This — all of this — was so, so wrong.

Rowena hadn't done anything wrong.

She didn't deserve to look so dejected, so ashamed. So vulnerable that it hurt, physically hurt to keep your eyes on her.

"Whatever happened, it's not your fault," you said in your softest, gentlest tone. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She gulped. Curled her fingers into the bed cover, tight against the fabric, knuckles white as bone. "I know," she said in a small voice, barely audible even in the silence of the house.

Good.

That was good.

It wasn't much, but at least she wasn't blaming herself.

Slowly, carefully, you took a seat next to her on the bed. She had no objections, made no attempts to get away.

Another good thing.

You had her trust.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I…" Tears prickled at her eyes, staining them red as blood. A few slid down her cheek; she wiped them away with her sleeve, only for more to pour in their place. "We had a fight."

"You and Lucifer?"

"Aye."

You figured as much.

With a nod, you prompted, "Was is about what happened in the bathroom?"

She gave a nod on her own, a small one, barely noticeable.

"I'm sorry," you said.

She looked at you as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. "You haven't done anything."

True.

You haven't.

The reasonable part of you knew that.

But you couldn't shake the guilt that roared within you, turned your stomach around like a storm.

Lucifer wanted you gone. He wanted you out of Rowena's life, and she wouldn't let you go. She wouldn't give you up, no matter how many tantrums he threw.

So he hurt her.

He hit her.

He beat her.

Your teeth clenched tightly as realization settled in, made itself at home.

Lucifer beat Rowena.

Because of you.

Tears brimmed up in your eyes; you held them back, willed them to wait. Rowena was hurt. The last thing she needed was to see you cry.

After all, this wasn't about you.

You were the cause, the heart of the conflict, but Rowena was the victim.

She was the one who bore the bruises, the pain both physical and emotional.

All because she wouldn't give you up.

Your heart ached for her, longed for her, loved her so much every beat hurt.

She'd changed.

She wasn't the mean girl anymore. Wasn't the stereotype you hated, loathed, wanted to avoid at all costs.

You doubted she ever was.

She'd always been the girl in front of you, the soft, sweet, vulnerable thing who loved and cared and hurt just like everyone else. She'd simply hid it behind a facade — a bad one, if you dare say so, for, thinking it through, she'd never actually been cruel. She'd never hurt anyone on her own. Never bullied for the fun of it. Her friends were always at the center of it. She may have pointed and laughed along, but, as despicable as it was, she'd never landed the first blow.

"I know," you said. "I just… I'm sorry."

Rowena nodded.

"How bad is it?"

She stiffened.

Shit.

Whatever he'd done, it had to have been horrible.

"Can I see?"

"You shouldn't," she said in a small, small voice. Wounded. Broken. Shattered into millions of pieces.

The bastard would pay for doing this to her. You swore it on your life.

"It's okay." You laid a hand on her shoulder, your touch soft, gentle. Her eyes were on yours, fat tears trailing down, your own ones following suit. "You can show me." Your hand slid up and down her arm, caressing her. Comforting her. Letting her know that she was safe, that you were here, and nothing like this would ever happen again. "It's okay."

Rowena sighed. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she sucked in a deep breath. A few moments passed by in silence, uncomfortable, deafening. Then her shaky hand slithered up to her neck and she pulled her shirt down; not much, but enough to show skin, tender and bruised, raw and purple.

Jesus!

You barely suppressed a gasp.

Various shades of purple were sprawled over her neck, light and dark fading into one another. A few particularly dark, circular spots stood out. Richer than the others, deeper in color.

Fingers.

The bastard had left imprints of his fingers on her like grim tattoos, reminders of what he'd done.

His brands.

Not permanent, but lasting enough to make her relive the pain every time she looked in the mirror, to make her flash back to the awful moments when he choked her, squeezed her neck until she was gasping for breath.

Eyes turning sideways, avoiding yours, Rowena pulled up her sleeves and, finally, exposed her stomach.

This time you did gasp, loudly.

Her forearms and stomach were a mess of bruises, almost every inch of her skin covered in hues of purple.

"Oh, god!"

It slipped out before you could try to stop it.

The images seared into your brain, into the depth of your soul.

Purple everywhere.

So much of it.

It had to have hurt.

Good god, the girl must have been in unimaginable pain.

You let the tears fall freely, no strength left to contain them.

This was wrong. So very, very wrong.

The bastard didn't get to do this, didn't get to make her into his punching bag and get away with it.

Something had to be done.

"You should go to the police," you said, mind already conjuring up images of him in chains, trapped in a dark, lone cell, alone and miserable.

Rowena pulled her shirt back over her injuries. "No." Her response was firm, decisive. She'd already made up her mind.

And you'd made up yours. "He has to pay for what he did to you."

"I'm not reporting him."

You stared, incredulous. Baffled. "Why?"

Who was this person?

It certainly wasn't the Rowena you knew.

The girl you knew was strong. She knew her worth and didn't let anyone treat her like shit. She stood her ground. Fought back. Made her voice heard no matter who wanted to silence it.

Why was she covering for Lucifer?

What was it about that boy that made him worth her pain, her dignity?

"I don't want to," she said nonchalantly, as if she were talking about the weather.

You looked at her as if she'd just confessed to murdering your entire family. "What? Why?"

She gave you a quick glance, then got to her feet and, on wobbly legs, limped over to the window. Far away from you. Back turned in your direction.

You stood up right after she did. "Rowena?"

"I told you I'm not reporting him," she said coldly. "Drop it."

"You know damn well I can't do that."

She may have been okay with Lucifer being a neanderthal, but you weren't.

She stiffened. In a softer, calmed voice, she said, "Y/N, please."

She sounded so broken, so shattered.

A pang of pain shot through your heart.

She wasn't okay with it.

She wanted Lucifer to pay, too, but she couldn't do it. Something was holding her back.

"He can't do this to you," you told her. "It's wrong."

She gave a bitter chuckle. "Lots of things are wrong in life, dear. We can't fix them all."

"No, but we can fix this."

She shook her head. "We can't. I'm far too gone. There is no coming back."

"There's always a way back."

"Not for me. I can't."

"Why?"

"Because…" She sucked in a breath. Took a moment to compose herself. "There are things about me that you don't know."

Plenty of them, you were sure. Still… "Whatever it is you did, or think you did, you don't deserve this."

"I don't, but… there is a price for everything."

"This is too high a price," you argued.

"Maybe so," she conceded, "but I have to pay it. I can't lose everything." She finally faced you, face red with dripping tears. "I can't go back to the bottom."

You frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's just a few more months. Then I'm free. I can handle it for a few more months."

"Handle what? Lucifer?" Your eyes widened in horror. "You're going back to him?"

Hurt flashed over her face as she replied, "What other choice do I have?"

"You have plenty of choices!"

None of which involved going back to that monster.

Why was she refusing help?

Why was she doing this to herself?

"You don't understand, Y/N."

"Then explain it to me!" you demanded, voice breaking. "Please. Tell me why."

"I'm doing what's best for me."

No.

No, she wasn't.

"I don't expect you to understand. I just… I want you to respect my choice."

"I can't do that."

She gave a sad smile. "I know. At least pretend? It will be best for the both of us."

"I can't do that, either," you whispered. "I…"

I love you.

The words caught in your throat, too tight, too constricted to let them out.

You couldn't tell her.

Couldn't lay such a burden on her.

Not here, not now.

Instead, you said, "I'm your friend."

And with that, you left.

You cried all the way back home and up until you laid down to sleep.

The images of what Lucifer had done, the sea of purple, kept flashing in your mind.

Lucifer hadn't just hit her — he'd beat her senselessly, cruelly, so hard she could barely walk. He'd choked her to the point of leaving imprints of his fingers.

Next time he got mad, he could kill her.

He would kill her.

Rowena may have been okay with that, but you weren't. You would never be okay with him abusing her. Would never respect her choice to take it, to live with it, no matter how hard she wanted you to.

You cared about her — loved her — too much for that.

But what could you do?

You couldn't go to the police on her behalf. Couldn't go to the teachers, let alone the Principal.

You were helpless.

Completely and utterly helpless.

Or…

Maybe not.

An idea suddenly popped up in your mind.

It was far from perfect, bound to end up in a mess, but it would do something.

Most likely not much, but you weren't in a position to choose.

Maybe all hope wasn't lost after all.

With those thoughts of possibilities, of various outcomes, after almost the entirety of the night twisting and turning with grim images in your head, you drifted off to a short, blissful sleep.

You dreamed of Rowena in your arms, safe and sound and happy.

You couldn't make it reality, but you could certainly try.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #spn family #crowley #my fics #fanfiction #high school au

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cptn-stvngrntrgrs · 5 years

Text

[fic] Let me go, it's okay. (no, it really is okay)

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Title: Let me go, it's okay. (no, it really is okay)

Summary:

Natasha came to the conclusion that maybe jumping off the cliff in Vormir wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Sequel to "I guess we got the better end of the bargain" but can also be read alone.

-- this was impulsively written bc of an anon curiouscat ask that i received: "what scenario can you make when James Rogers discovers his mother's sacrifice and how his father brought her back?"

hello!! thank you so much to everyone who read and enjoyed "I guess we got the better end of the bargain"!!! this is for those who asked for a sequel or more post-Endgame James Rogers!!

tw// mention of ptsd/panic attack.

Also on AO3!!!

“Come on James, let’s go!!!” Morgan Stark excitedly squealed as she ran out of the house and into the beach. Well, more like a private island. That Morgan technically owns. The moment Morgan was born, Tony has been buying properties here and there for her. Pepper simply can’t stop him - the little girl has her dad wrapped by her pinky before she was even born.

“I’m not spoiling her, Pep. I’m… securing her future.” Tony argued one time after Pepper found out Tony bought her a beach house. Again.

“Wait for me ‘Gan!” James called out, jumping off the last three steps of the stairs, which almost made Steve wince had he not landed gracefully on his feet. Well, he is his parents’ child and Steve is definitely feeling what Bucky felt when they were younger. His son got all his recklessness with his mother’s elegance, making him their own little daredevil.

“Don’t forget to put on sunblock!” Pepper reminded the kids, standing by the door and watching them run into the water.

“Already got it on, Aunt Peps!” James responded, a bright smile on his face as he turned around to give his aunt a thumbs up before running after Morgan once again. James adored his aunt.

Pepper has been there for Natasha ever since she found out she’s pregnant and has barely left her side since. Natasha’s pregnancy was surprisingly a very calm one, despite worries from her doctors as to what brought the possibility of pregnancy. Their theory of Vormir somehow “healing” her is their best bet for it — with Gamora saying that there’s a possibility, in theory, that a soul that was sacrificed there, if brought back, would be whole again. Since Natasha was the first one who, in a way, was brought back because of time travel, they didn’t really have anyone to compare it to.

The news of Natasha’s pregnancy spread like wildfire to the rest of the Avengers throughout, quite literally, the whole universe. Of course, the moment he caught wind of the news, Clint, Laura, and the kids were in the Compound right away. Laura and Natasha shared a tearful hug — Natasha once confided in Laura about her remorse at not being able to bear children. She couldn’t believe that she’s finally going to get the family she never thought she’d have.

When James was born, it seemed as though an imminent threat was upon Earth once again judging by the number of Avengers and superheroes present. Good thing Natasha and Steve decided to stay at the Compound for the delivery instead of a hospital like Pepper suggested, or else they would’ve sent the general public population into a panic as to why a massive crowd of superheroes is gathered once again.

Out of everyone in the room, the newborn James spent most of his time in the arms of his namesake, Bucky, who cried with Steve and Natasha when James was put in his arms for the first time. Aside from the adults, Morgan, who was 6 at that time, also racked up on snuggling hours with James. She just adored him from the start. She always hovered around, asking about the baby and just playing with him. At one point, she even asked for a baby sibling, which Tony supported until a sharp “No” from Pepper to her husband struck the idea down.

Now, almost 7 years later, Steve watched as James and Morgan ran around in the water, chasing Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel. Sam was supervising them, holding his daughter’s - Natalie - hand as she tried to play with the kids who are a bit bigger than her. At 5 years old, she’s the youngest of the bunch. Maria Hill and Sam got married a couple of months after James was born, which is what Maria preferred because she wanted Natasha to be there and have fun with them. A little over a year after that, Natalie Wilson was born - named after Natasha. There were a lot of tears from both women that day.

“Dad! Dad!” James high-pitched squeals broke Steve out of his reverie to see his son running to him. He straightened up and kneeled down once James was in front of him.

“What is it? Are you okay?” This became his staple response with James as of lately; he’s becoming more and more accident prone with his recklessness and Steve’s sure it’s making him age twice as fast.

James just giggled at his father’s prodding. “Of course I am, dad. Can I go with Morgan and Coop and Uncle Sam? They’re going cliff-diving! Please please please, dad!” And with that came the puppy eyes.

Steve sighed. Truth be told, he’s too young for those kinds of activities at just 7 years old. But… he also has a mutated version of the serum running through him so he suppose…

“Whatcha boys doings here?” Natasha’s voice cut through Steve’s internal struggles and despite not even seeing her behind him yet, he could already feel the smile spreading across his face. Natasha does have that kind of effect on him.

Steve turned around and stood up to give Natasha a kiss as a greeting. “He wants to go cliff-diving with the kids.” He whispered. As his words sunk in, he noticed Natasha stiffen so he hugged her to his side, his arm firmly latched around her waist. Natasha hasn’t been dealing well with heights since Vormir and honestly, neither does Steve. They’ve mainly used helicarriers or private planes to fly and places like mountains or high elevation were mostly avoided.

“Mommy, please,” James tugged on the hem of Natasha’s sundress, peeking at her with his wide blue eyes, his strawberry-blond hair flopping from the wind.

Natasha offered her son a soft smile before turning to Steve, worry etching her forehead. “Is it safe?” She asked, her voice low.

Steve paused for a moment. “Yes. I know Sam and the others has been there. It’s only 12 feet at most, the water is clear of rocks or anything, and Sam will be watching the kids to catch them. Which means Bucky will be there too.” Natasha didn’t look convinced, her lips still pursed together tightly. “I can wait with them in the water to catch James, if you want.” She seemed to think that over and eventually nodded.

Mustering the courage to smile, Natasha faced James. “Okay, honey, you go with them. But daddy will be going with you, okay? He’s going to be in the water with Uncle Sam and Bucky.”

“What about you, mommy? Can you go with us too?” He asked, eyes glinting with hope.

“Mommy’s not really in the mood to swim today, bud.” Steve supplied for Natasha, seeing her torn look.

“Then mommy can watch me when I jump!” He suggested happily. Steve didn’t miss how Natasha winced at his words. “Please, mommy? Even just once?”

Cursing under her breath, Natasha inhaled deeply and forced a smile, scooping James into her arms. He’s getting taller and taller so she’s savoring every moment that she can still carry him. “Fine. But just once, okay?” James grinned widely and nodded. Steve squeezed Natasha’s shoulder as he signaled for Sam to lead the way.

The “cliff” isn’t really a cliff as much as it is an elevated part on the island. It was only a short eight minute walk from the beach, and there were steps leading up to it to prevent slipping on the ground. James squirmed from Natasha’s arms once they reached the steps and she set him down, letting him run towards the others. Natasha and Steve stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the top of the “cliff”.

Natasha’s hand shot out to hold Steve’s, gripping it tightly as she took a deep breath while making her way up the stairs. They took slow and calculated steps, as if they were sneaking up behind an enemy. Halfway through, she could see edge, with the children excitedly looking down at the water and chattering amongst each other. Steve gave her hand a squeeze and didn’t move until she does first. They were on the last step of the stairs and the edge and water were completely visible when Natasha tensed up.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice tight, as she started gasping for air. Steve stood in front of her, grabbing a hold of her; his hand still gripping hers tightly and the other cupping her cheek. “Please get me out of here,” she choked out, her free hand holding onto his shirt. Steve nodded rapidly and was slowly moving to carefully step down from the stairs when they heard their son.

“Mommy! Daddy!” James called out when he saw his parents, not knowing what’s happening. Sam glanced in their way and cursed, running to their direction. He knew the signs of a panic attack and this definitely was one.

“Steve, take her back right away! We’ll follow you guys!” Sam said, assessing Natasha’s look and breathing. This isn’t good; if she doesn’t get to leave on time then —

Before Sam’s worst-case scenario thought finished, it already happened in front of his eyes. Natasha fainted and was caught by Steve’s arms and chest, her head colliding with his shoulder.

—

“Daddy, is mommy going to be okay?” James tearfully asked Steve. They were both in the guest room’s couch across from the bed, where Natasha is still passed out on.

Steve looked at James and smiled sadly, wiping his son’s tears with his thumbs. “Of course she will be, baby. Mommy’s just… not feeling well.”

“Why did she suddenly get sick when we were at the cliff?” He asked, tilting his head. His brows are scrunched up tightly, a sign that he’s deeply contemplating what happened to his mom. The look almost made Steve chuckle, he couldn’t count how many times Natasha has told him he and James always make the same thoughtful look. Whenever Natasha notices Steve have that look, she always runs her thumb over between his brows to loosen them, and it always helps him calm down. So he did the same with James until he giggled.

Natasha stirred on the bed, rolling over her side, facing them. Steve and James froze, watching whether or not she’s fully awake. When she cracked an eye open, James ran to the bed and into Natasha’s arms before Steve could even stop him.

“Mommy, you’re awake!” James yelled with glee. Steve sat on the couch for a little bit until Natasha’s eyes caught his and he sat next to them on the bed.

“How are you?” Steve asked, stretching his legs in front of him and resting on the headboard. He looked down at her and smoothed the stray locks of her hair. Natasha smiled and pushed to a sitting position, propped by a pillow, next to Steve. She tucked herself under him and James sat between them, Natasha’s arm around him.

“I’m doing fine. Feeling a lot better,” Natasha said with a bitter laugh.

“Mommy what happened to you? I thought you were going to watch me jump! Then I saw you sleeping in daddy’s arms and he and Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky looked really worried,” James jutted his lower lip out, recalling the events that happened earlier that day.

Natasha looked at Steve with an eyebrow raised. So far, all James knows about his parents and his aunts and uncles is that they’re superheroes and they’re called The Avengers. He’s seen their pictures and videos on TV and even plays with their action figures - leave it to Tony to give the children toys of their parents . What they haven’t told him yet, though, is what happened a decade and a half ago that changed the world - and how his parents played a huge role in it.

They really hoped to spare James the whole Thanos story until he’s a bit older - like how Tony told Morgan when she was 10 years old and started asking tons of questions as to why her dad is hailed a hero. At that age, she was mature enough to understand the dynamics of what happened, and hopefully, not get nightmares from it.

Well, it’s tricky in Steve and Natasha’s case. How do you explain to your child that his mom died and his dad went back in time to bring her back? Hell, even a grown adult might not even understand that story, let alone an seven year old.

Natasha cleared her throat. “Well, baby, Mommy had an accident way before you were born,” she started, watching her son’s reaction. When he seemed to understand that, she continued. “Mommy fell off a cliff.” Natasha flinched and Steve started smoothing his thumb over her arm to try to calm her down.

James gasped. “Oh no, mommy! What happened after that? Did it hurt?” came his rapid-fire questions in a worried voice, looking at Natasha with wide eyes.

Natasha paused and narrowed her eyes to think. “No, I don’t think it hurt. And you know why?” James shook his head. “Because daddy saved me.”

Now, James turned to his father with a look of amazement on his face. “Really, dad? You saved mommy?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, his hand traveling to hers and giving it a squeeze as he nodded. “I sure did! I love your mommy very much and I didn’t want her to be hurt so I rescued her.”

James was quiet for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he got a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. “Wow…” he mumbled. Turning back to Natasha, he asked, “But mommy, why did you get sick earlier?”

Steve and Natasha contemplated the question, thinking of ways to explain panic attacks to young children. “Remember how mommy said she had an accident at a cliff?” Steve asked, to which James nodded. “Well, when mommy saw the cliff earlier, she remembered her accident. Then that made her really sick.” Steve explained, with Natasha humming and stroking James’s hair.

“Really, mommy?” James looked at Natasha, who mumbled a ‘yes’, making him burrow his head into her side. Natasha and Steve looked at each other, alarmed.

“James, baby, what’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice soft, after hearing sniffs from him.

James poked his head up a bit, his eyes red with tears. “I’m sorry, mommy!!” he wailed, throwing his arms around her and hiding his face on her side again.

Natasha frowned while Steve rubbed a hand on James’s back. “Baby, why are you sorry?” she tried to poke him so he could talk to them.

James looked up again, looking between Steve and Natasha. “Because I told you to come to the cliff with me,” he sniffed again but didn’t hide this time. His voice sounded so melancholy that it broke Natasha’s and Steve’s hearts.

“Oh, baby, that’s not your fault!” Natasha assured him, propping him up so she could properly hug him, his arms automatically going around her neck. She looked at Steve and raised her eyebrows, telling him to say something.

To be perfectly honest, he might be able to counsel adults after the snap, but once James start crying, Steve’s emotions gets the better of him. The image in front of him - Natasha holding a crying James - painfully reminded him of his childhood with his mother consoling him when he’s sick or beaten by his father. Really, his child is his biggest weakness.

“James, do you want to know a secret?” Steve asked, inching towards James, his voice low. James peered at him, nodding. “Mommy’s accident may have been a bad thing, but there were so many good things that came out of it.” James pulled away from Natasha, trying to think of what his dad was saying. How can good things come from painful accidents? Wasn’t his mommy hurt? Even Natasha looked taken aback with Steve’s statement.

When neither James or Natasha said anything, Steve continued. “Your mommy saved the world! And then after that, you became our baby! Aren’t those good things?” Steve smiled, seeing James’s eyes brighten at that.

“Mommy, you saved the world too? Like Uncle Tony?” James asked, a bit shocked. He knew his parents were heroes but he didn’t know his mom saved the world !

Natasha laughed, nodding along. All these years, the thought of what happened in Vormir still haunts her. She suppose she focused too much on the fact that she died on that cliff, and that yeah, sure, her sacrifice got them the soul stone. Well, she knows she died, but she doesn’t even remember dying. She just remembered falling, then the next thing she knows, she’s taking deep breaths while Steve almost actually crushed her with a hug.

But she had yet to really embrace the fact that honestly, in the end, throwing herself down that cliff isn’t at all that bad. Sure, according to the stories from everyone, she missed one hell of a battle. That fact aside, she still came out all of this as a winner. First of all, she did help save the universe, a big help, in fact. Most importantly, the soul stone gave her back what she lost. And now, as she watched Steve play with James, she realized that jumping off that cliff was worth it.

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