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notprofessionalwriting · 3 years

Text

. 1:47am . - Part Two

DAMAGED GOODS

Corpse Husband X FemReader

Summary: After accidentally calling Corpse, Y/N and him are trying to not be awkward in a park, so they play 20 questions. Corpse won’t let Y/N forget she ignored his 8ball request (she 100% did)

Warnings: slight angst if you squint, cursing, mentions of car accidents and guns being pulled

A/N: i literally cant believe anyone read part one, thank you sm for the nice words and stuff :)

Part 2 of ????

PART ONE

3:46am

You were sitting on a park bench with your skateboard next to you. The world around you was quiet, other than the occasional car speeding down the busy road next to the park. You pulled out your phone and checked your notifications, nothing. The last text you got was 10 minutes ago from Corpse saying he was on his way.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned yourself as you looked down at your board. It’s from junior year of high school. It was a beaten up Black Label skateboard, one that your crush from high school picked out for you. The only time you ever actually used it was when the two of you rode your boards together downtown after school. That was until he then began dating your other friend - then you never touched it again.

Your gaze never parted from the board until your phone buzzed as your phone screen lit up. A text from Corpse appearing across your screen.

3:48am

Corpse: here.

You lifted your head and looked around in the darkness. The park around you is completely empty, the swings standing lifeless as the grim night air creeps around you. A slight chill makes it’s way up your spine and you began thinking to yourself, ‘am I going to be fucking murdered?’ The fear began to sneak upon you, your skin now crawling. Eventually, you heard the sound of a skateboard rolling towards you. Slowly, you’re able to make out the figure on the board as it begins to approach you.

Tall, slender build, curly hair hid under a beanie, dressed in all black with a pullover hoodie. They effortlessly rode the board until their foot touched the ground, the board now stopped before you. They had a mask on, hiding most of their facial features aside their eyes and up. You were in shock, this is the first time you’ve seen him in person. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Sykkuno ever actually met up with him, despite living in the same city. Your nerves began to creep up more as you studied what features of him were available to view. So far, you declared he has the prettiest set of brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hey, y/n.” he spoke quietly, his deep voice erupting into the eerie night air. He stepped off his board and sat next to you onto the bench.

“Hey, Corpse” you responded while giving him a small smile, looking down at your hands and twiddling with them. You were nervous being in his presence. Something about how mysterious he’s always been caused you to feel intimidated. Though, in person, you saw how anxious and awkward he actually was. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, his hands were stuffed in his pocket and wait- was he shaking? This all made you wonder, why were you so nervous?

He let out a breathy laugh and turned to face you, studying your features. You felt blush begin to rise to your cheeks. His high pitch laughter was one you had originally only heard through your headphones in-game, hearing it in person was a whole different experience.

“You nervous?” he questioned you

“Uhh,” you locked eyes to him, you could tell he was smirking underneath his face mask with the way his eyes moved, “yeah actually, really fucking nervous honestly.”

“Me too,” he chuckled and leaned forward, not making eye contact with you anymore. He rested his arms on his knees, “really fucking nervous.”

“Why?” you let your eyes rest on his figure, studying his movements as he adjusted his beanie and anxious pulled his sleeves down to cover his hands.

“It’s the first time I’ve been out of my apartment in fuckin’ days,” he slumped into the bench now while looking off into the nighttime, “Plus I haven’t seen more than half of my friends in person. Uhh, actually all of my friends.”

“Well, ain’t I special?” you said, confusion festering inside of you. You felt yourself so intrigued by every movement and word that let his mouth. You wanted to watch him and listen to him talk for hours. What the fuck is happening?

He looked over at you, yet another smirk hiding underneath his mask, “I wanted to ask you in person…”, he adjusted his seating to now face you again, “Why the fuck did you ignore my 8-Ball request?”

You stared deadpan, another laugh escaping you, “No fucking way. I totally fucking responded to that.”

“No you didn’t,” he quickly responded, “you definitely didn’t.”

“You brought me in the middle of a park at basically 4am to argue about 8-Ball?” You questioned him, watching his features soften more. A smile grew upon his face, brightening what you could see of his face.

“Yes, yes I did actually.” You didn’t respond, instead you squinted your eyes and stared at him. “I-uh- I wanted to also, you know, actually talk to you?” He mumbled, “We never actually talk. Plus, you called ME at wee fucking hours in the mornin. Don’t you spin this around on me.”

“It was an accident!!” You retorted, laughter escaping your lips so easily it felt natural to be sitting and laughing on a bench with him, “I didn’t mean to be weird and randomly call you!”

He moved slightly close to you, slowly closing some of the space between the two of you, “Well, I was the weird one and asked you to hang out at 3am, so we’re even I guess.”

You could smell his cologne and aftershave, and fuck it smelled amazing. He continued to mess with the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling them over his hands and tucking them anxiously in his pockets.

“Okay, okay, my turn. What made you ask me to ‘chill’ in this park?”

You studied him, awaiting his response. “Same reason you ‘accidentally’ called me,” he said, putting air quotation marks over the word accidentally.

“Oh?” you jokingly questioned him, “and what’s that?”

You wondered what he looked like under the mask. You wondered how his hair looks under his beanie. You wondered if he smelled even better under the layers of his hoodie and what appeared to be another sweatshirt underneath. Your mind began to wonder how his voice sounded like when he first woke up, or what he sounded like when he was half asleep. More thoughts began to dance throughout your head as you stared at him, looking at his eyes which showed he was smiling under his mask.

“I wanted to get to know you better. Ya’know, actually talk and stuff.” He responded, breaking the shared eye contact and looking around you.

“And stuff?” you giggled, watching his nervous reaction. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pocket again.

“I don’t fucking know, what do normal socially inclined people do?”

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4:11am

“Okay, how about this,” you spoke into the uncomfortable silence that fell between the two of you after you ran out of small talk. You two were staring at each other, motionless. “20 questions?”

“20 questions?” he questioned you, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion

“Yeah, why not?” you laughed nervously, something about him made your nerves on high alert, “you start!”

You positioned yourself to face him on the bench, crossing your legs in front of you and resting your arms on your legs. You gauged his reaction, the look of confusion flooding his face.

“Uhhhhhh,” he turned to face you, mimicking the way you were sitting - crossing his legs in front of him on the bench, “uhh- i don’t fucking know, favorite color?”

“Blue!” you exclaimed, “I’ve always loved darker shades of blue, like turquoise or- well it’s not blue-blue but aquamarine too.”

“Aquamarine? That’s a fancy color, heh. Guess mine.”

“Black?” you giggled, looking his outfit up and down, it was about fifty shades of black.

He laughed his signature high pitched laughter, adjusting his sleeves to again cover his hands, “Correct. How did you guess?”

“Oh just a hunch, that’s all. It’s your turn.”

“Uhhh,” he pulled out his phone and began typing rapidly. You stared at his hands, luminated from his phone screen. His chipped black nail polish was uneven on his nails, his rings shining bright against the light. His hands were veiny, you found yourself unable to look away, “I’m ass at these things, so lemme google something.” He began clicking rapidly, “…. Okay okay I’m ready. Got some questions and all” He held his phone up to hide the questions as he stared at them.

“That’s cheating!” you giggled, reaching for his phone, “you’re a fucking cheater!”

“No, no, no, there are no rules. You did not say any rules. No rules! Ahem- okay.” he cleared his throat, scrolling through the question list, “holy fuck these questions. Ok- okay this one is good. So, ahem,” he put on a fake announcer voice, causing you to giggle even more, “Have you ever been in a car accident — and it was your fault?”

“Well damn,” you laughed, “where the fuck did you find these questions?”

“Hey man, I didn’t write the question. Anyway, you gotta answer it. Spill the beans, hunny”

“Oh geez, well yes, I have been in a car accident, no I didn’t cause it.” You watched as his face softened, a look of sorrow clouding his dark eyes, “It was when I was in high school. A friend of mine- an old friend- was driving and another car blew a red light. It was a minor accident. No one was hurt or anything, but it fucked with my anxiety for a while. I still hate driving now. So I prefer public transportation.”

“Oh fuck- I’m glad you’re okay- jesus fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, I was paranoid about any cars. I refused to get in them for about a year, but I’m able to drive now, no worries. Anyway- your turn.”

“I for one, have never been in a car accident, thankfully. However, I have had a gun pulled on me inside of my car, if that counts.”

“You WHAT?” you interrupted him, leaning closer to him, “ex-fucking-cuse me?” His nonchalant way about talking about that baffled you.

He giggled, how was he giggling over this? “Yeah it was fucking wild man, straight fucking wild. I lived though.”

“Okay, my turn. Why the fuck did you have a gun pulled on you?”

“You’re not letting that go, huh?”

“NO.” You shot back at him, “that’s fucking nuts.”

“It happened so fast, I can barely recall most of it. Guy tried to rob me, but I’m too fucking broke and didn’t have anything. Threatened to blow my head off, then fucking left. I still don’t know why the fuck he picked me. Do I even appear to look like I have any sort of value? But I lived, so there’s that.”

“Oh my fucking god.” That’s all you could manage to say, the thought of anything bad happening to him now begins to worry you. You have the strong urge to protect him from all evil, at any costs.

“Yeah- straight fucking nuts. Anyway, my turn.” He began to scroll through the questions pulled up on his phone, letting out hmms and huuhs? until he finds a question that he deems worth asking, “What embarrasses you the most and/or what’s been your most embarrassing moment?”

“Hmmmm,” you took a moment to ponder the question, there’s a lot of things you’ve done that really embarrass yourself, “Okay so I was on a date with this guy I was really into in college, like I loved this guy before we even went out.”

“Was he cute?” Corpse asked, resting his elbows on his legs and his head on his hands, a pensive stare in his eyes as he peered at you.

“Uhhhh, really fucking cute actually….,” you were lost in his eyes, you couldn’t make out the rest of his face, but you’ve declared him as one of the most attractive people you’ve seen, “... uh anyway, so we were out on a date-”

“I can’t relate.” he interrupted, laughing again.

“Huh?” you, again, we snapped out of your story.

“Being on asked dates, can’t relate. I have never been asked on a date.”

“I don’t believe that. Anyway-”

“O really? I legit have never been asked out on a date,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you finish though.”

“Well this isn’t a good date, anyway we were at the movies on a date and it happens to be the same exact movie theater his ex was at. Same movie, same time, same everything.”

“Oh no…” Corpse knew exactly where this was headed.

“Yuuupp, it was a ploy to run into his ex-girlfriend. They ended up getting back together right after that happened. Exact reason I hate the entire Purge series now.”

“Evil. Straight fucken evil. I’m sorry.” he leaned his hand over to lay it on your leg, “that’s actually fucked.”

He was touching you. His hand was on your leg, right above your knee. You felt the sensation of touch shoot up from your leg to your stomach. Your heart began pounding a thousand beats a second. Why were you acting this way? Why was your heart racing at an innocent touch to express sorrow? You tried your best to ignore it.

You shrugged, although it still has taken a major shot to your self esteem, “I mean, it still stings but they have two kids now so, good for them I guess.”

“At least you’re not spending the money on diapers now,” he laughed, moving his hand away and giving you finger guns, “that shit is outrageous.” That was the cutest shit you’ve ever seen.

“Okaay, my turn. So have you really never been asked on a date?” You watched his reaction, he quickly rubbed the back of his head again, letting out an anxious laugh.

“I mean, I’ve been on dates with my ex before and like, two other people, but I was the one to always ask ya’know. I never had anyone take interest in me first. I’m always the initiator. It’s not really that deep though. I actually like not being bothered with relationship shit honestly. Anyway, my turn.”

Why did that upset you? You felt a ping in your heart. A ping of sadness. What’s wrong with you?

He scrolled through the questions a bit, searching for a good one to ask.

“Okay, this one isn’t as cringe, what's the luckiest thing that's ever happened to you?”

You thought for a moment, looking at him staring back at you. A smile forming underneath his mask despite the lack of sleep hitting you both. The early morning sky began to form around you two on the park bench, you couldn’t deny it, he was attractive. You couldn’t see his face fully, but his visible features were inviting. You wanted to see what he was hiding on the mask. He had warm eyes, curly mess hair, you imagined he was more attractive than you imagined under the mask. “Well, I’m sitting on a fucking park bench at like 5am with Corpse Husband. Completely unplanned, no sleep at all. Answering questions about our lives in the darkness. Totally random, almost face reveal and all.”

Wait what the fuck - were you just flirting with him? Why are you flirting with him? You couldn’t tell, but he seemed to blush.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he laughed leaning over and playfully nudging your arm, “this is after you randomly called me, don’t forget that.”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”

“I knew you never actually wanted to talk to me.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” you reached over and snatched the phone from his hand. In the process, you accidentally touched his hands, you felt another surge of butterflies rush through you again. You tried to brush them away and scrolled through the questions, “do you believe in soulmates?”

Of all questions, you asked that one. You wanted to smack yourself. What were you doing?

He raised his eyebrows, bringing his hands to his chin, rubbing the front part of his mask. You wondered what he looked like without the mask on again. Thoughts of his skin racing through your mind, “Huh. I don’t honestly. I don’t think anyone is truly meant for anyone. Love is fucking hard, yaknow? Sure you can be attracted and interested in someone. But to actually have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship, it doesn't just happen. You need to actually want it. Want to actually work and build with them. No one is someone’s actual soul mate. Don’t even get me started if someone dies.”

“Period sis,” you laughed, “I’d like to believe there’s someone for everyone though.” You were a hopeless romantic, it’s showing.

“My person is the one that probably was murdered or something,” he laughed, looking down at his pant legs, “I kinda gave up on relationships and shit anyway. I’m not really the ideal partner.”

“Why?” you didn’t mean to ask that immediately after he spoke, it slipped out

“It’s my turn, mam.” He laughed, taking his phone back, “ooooh here’s a goodie, when you can’t sleep at night, what keeps you awake?”

“Everything,” you blurted out, laughing, “fucking everything.”

“Mood.”

You paused for a moment, letting go on any filter you’ve had set, tiredness is setting in and you have no control over your words, “I always feel like I’m never really good enough, yaknow? Like I don’t really belong anywhere. I feel like I’m an outsider everywhere. I guess, I guess that’s what keeps me awake at night. Damn that got really fucking emo.”

He nodded, the two of you not speaking for a good minute. He finally broke the silence, “Yeah, yeah. I actually fully understand that feeling.”

“My turn,” you didn’t look at the phone this time, “so why did you give up on relationships? Or finding in love, or whatever.”

Why did you care so much? Why are you asking him this?

He took a deep breath, letting up a breathy chuckle, “Ah fuck, I-I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before - like out loud.” He paused for a brief second, you were moments away from telling him it was fine without answering, but he continued on, “I- I don’t really see myself as a good partner honestly. Like, I don’t go outside much. I don’t show myself anywhere - that’s actually unfair to my partners. I can’t see myself being able to fully invest myself into a relationship either, I have so much other shit going on. My life it’s self is a fucking mess, I’m a fucking mess. I don’t deserve that sense of happiness either.”

“Why’s that?” You questioned him, staring into his eyes. Those big brown eyes shined back.

“I just don’t. I can’t go outside without fucken panicking, without worrying someone will find me. That’s why my ex left me. I couldn’t do anything with her, no, for her. She wanted to go out and do all of these lavish things, but me? I couldn’t. Literally would fucken panic at the thought. Hyperventilate, shake. What the fuck is wrong with me? I wouldn’t want any parts of that either. She got tired of waiting for me to fix myself and left. I can’t blame her, she had every right to. I can’t see myself committing to anything. I’m so accustomed to everyone leaving. I-I can’t put myself through that heartbreak. I don’t want to put myself through heartbreak again. I- I don’t know. I’m scared to get attached. I-”

You were staring at him, lost in his eyes. Lost in the emotion of his voice as he spoke. Raw, unfiltered, passionate, and real. Every croke as he spoke, every pause, stutter. Your heart was about to break. Who hurt him so badly that they caused him to feel broken? To feel betrayed? To feel so unloveable. You wanted to speak, but you were lost in him confessing his heart to you randomly on a park bench in the center of the city.

“Corpse,” you breathed out, watching the tears begin to well up in his eyes. Wait, he’s about to fucking cry. Holy shit. How do you calm a crying person? Do you even have tissues on you? You’re not prepared for this.

He turned his head away and cleared his throat, trying to hide his watering eyes, “Fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-uhhhhhh- fuck- uhhh, ignore me.”

“Corpse,” you again said, reaching over to grab his hand. You made contact with the top of his hand, feeling the top of his rings grace underneath your palm. His skin is soft and warm. How the fuck is his skin so soft? You wrapped your hand around his and you lost control, you squeezed his hand to let him know you were there. You were listening, processing his emotion. You were letting him know you cared.

“Thank you, y/n.” he looked back over at you, flipping his hand around so your palms are now touching. He intertwined your fingers together. His eyes are watering still, now vulnerable and more alive.

You were holding hands. Your heart began racing, you imagined it would jump out of your chest. He scooted himself directly next to you, your legs touching now. He rested his head on your shoulder, keeping your hands intertwined. His hair smelled like… was that cherry blossoms? His head was heavy on your shoulders, but it never felt so perfectly placed. He let out a deep sigh and you felt the breath on your shoulders. You began to panic inside, but it wasn’t a bad panic. It was a nervous panic.

“Of course,” you whisper, laying your head on top of his, “damaged goods gotta stick together.”

#corpse x reader #corpse husband #.stories.#notprofessionalwriting #corpse x y/n #corpse fanfic #corpse x you #screams internally

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

So, hi again…I’m gonna be completely honest I’ve practically had no time to sit down and write for the past couple of weeks, college rained down tons of assignments and work kept asking me to do extra shifts. Hopefully you all understand the delay in updates, I’m determined to finish this book for you all, anyways I’ll shut up Enjoy 😊

Whoever decided to wake me up and drag me away from the glorious land of sleep will suffer my early morning wrath, slowly I opened my eyes and the outline of two very stupid and annoying boys filled my vision. “Have you two never heard the saying don’t tickle a sleeping dragon? I quite clearly need my beauty sleep!” why is it every time I threaten to murder these two they just start laughin’? what the hell is wrong with em?!, “ Well good mornin’ to you too doll face, as much as I’d like to stay here and trade threats mama wants you outta bed for breakfast so get ya butt moving” My eyes narrowed at Bucky as he started to follow Steve outta the room, the smirk on his face widening as I reluctantly moved out of bed.

I’ve only been here a week and I’ve nearly killed him at least 50 times, wait that’s not something I should be proud of is it? in my defence Barnes can be a right little shit when he wants to be! Two days ago, he thought it’d be funny to drench me with water in the middle of the day, it’s safe to say he didn’t climb down the tree for a fair few hours. The smell of bacon and pancakes made me completely forget whatever the hell I was talking about, I shouldn’t have rushed pulling my pants on cause my dumbass failed to see that the left leg got caught on the draw knob and I was once again hugging the floor with my bloody face. Great that didn’t hurt at all!

Right let’s check for damage, bruises? Nope scratches? Nope pride and dignity? That went a long time ago who am I kidding? “Y/N You comin down or what?!” Jesus Christ that boy has a voice like a flipping fog horn, I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard Steve in queens! “Yeah give me a minute will ya! No need to get your panties in a twist Stevie” I’m pretty sure I can hear Becca and Bucky laughin’ from up here. Okay enough time’s been spent getting dressed, at this rate the boys will have inhaled all the food…the thought alone is enough to terrifying!

“Right you lads better of left me at least one pancake and 3 strips of bacon or they’ll be hell to pay later” as a rule most people say good morning but I like to start the day with a decent dashing of threats and insults, cause I’m a friendly person…okay nope that’s a big pile of bullc**p and I know it. “Well mornin to you too y/n, the pancakes are on the table and the bacons on Bucks plate feel free to take some” a muffled sound of protest could be heard over my laughter as Bucky shot Steve a look of utter disbelief. “I think I’ll skip on the bacon then Stevie, by the looks of it Bucks already drooled all over it” Steve and I shared a look before we burst out laughing, Buck was glaring at the both of us with syrup dribbling down his chin and I gotta be honest it looked hilarious. “You guys done laughin’ at me yet or would you like to gang up on me some more?” is this boy dumb or somethin’? “Buck, I’d be on my deathbed and my final words would be some form of insult towards you”.

And there I go signing my death sentence again, at this point Steve wasn’t even on his chair anymore, instead he was lying on the floor completely pissin’ himself laughing while Bucky slowly stood up and started walking round the table. “Oh would you look at the time! Gotta go guys my appointment with the grim reaper’s in a minute!” hey y/n maybe it’s time you start running?! With a small shriek I turned and bolted out the backdoor with a pretty pissed off Barnes boy on my tail. The sunlight blinded me for a couple of seconds, so I was kinda running without knowing what was around me…and as per usual life decided to firmly kick my ass using the form of a bloody tree. A sharp stinging sensation spread across my entire face, huh reminds me of when I ran into that door…only that didn’t hurt half as much and there wasn’t an annoying brunette prick absolutely creasing with laughter behind me. I’m pretty sure that in the process of the tree b**tch slappin’ me I cut the left side of my cheek…oh would you look at that there’s the blood that should have stayed inside me, I couldn’t stop the small groan of pain that slipped outta my mouth, the lower half of my back was more than likely battered to all hell and the stinging in my cheek wasn’t helping either.

Apparently, the sound of my suffering seemed to break the idiot outta his little laughin’ session, I raised my eyebrows at him when it finally dawned on him that I hurt myself and that was pretty funny, all the colour drained from Bucky’s face, his eye’s widened when he noticed the lovely new edition to my face and pretty soon he reached a hand out to help me up. Such a gentleman… that’s if you replace the gentle bit with idiotic. The second I was on my feet, he pulled me into a hug and began checking my face and head, I’m hoping to god he can’t see my flamin’ cheeks cause I know for a fact he would never let me live that down. To be completely honest all I could concentrate on was the gentle touch on his hands on my cheek and the look on Bucky’s face, his eyes were completely focused on my cut. How have I never noticed that his eyes have the smallest flecks of green in them? Or how his dimples show when he frowns?… more importantly why do I feel both excited and terrified but somehow warm at the same time?

My little daze was broken when I realised that his lips were movin’ and I had no idea what the hell he just said, but he must of asked me a question cause he was lookin’ at me waitin’ for his answer. Bollocks. “What’d you say Buck?” Jesus Christ could I have been anymore obvious?! Maybe I should make a giant banner and smack him in the face with it, oh for godsake am I blushin’ again?!, the small smirk on his face grew into a sh*t eating grin as he threw his arm around my shoulders and dragged me back to the house. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you y/n were completely blow away by the masterpiece that is my face” oh great I’ve managed to inflate his ego even more, “Actually I wasn’t gonna say anythin’ but you’ve got a little somethin’ stuck in your front teeth” and just like that all the cockiness drained outta his body.

The arm around my shoulder disappeared rather quickly, to my amusement the boy next to me did as well, I could feel the little smirk on my face as I carried on walkin’ forward as he stayed behind more than likely doin’ that cute stupid thing with his eyes. Wait what did I just say?! What the heck is wrong with me these days? Its like a flippin’ alien’s taken over me and made me into a normal girl! .It feels all kinds of wrong. A sudden cough disrupts my inner monologue, my eyes roll to the sky as the smirk reappears on my face, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me when my gaze meets Bucky’s. He was stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed as I continued to laugh and slowly his face formed a pout as he waited for me to finish completely wetting myself with laughter. “You done yet?” his brow was pulled in as he tried to fight off the smile, “Do I actually have somethin’ in my teeth or were you just being a bully?”.

“Nah, just needed to keep your ego in check before it inflated and carried you away into the wind” Buck looked like I’d just shot him in the chest, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughin’ at him as I turned and started walkin’ back to the house. “Ya know you can be a real piece of work when ya wanna be don’t ya?” thank you captain obvious! “I know I am, you know I do it out of love don’t ya?” I shot him a small smile as I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in for a side hug, Bucky shook his head with a small smile, but accepted the hug anyway. After that we stayed in a comfortable silence as we walked back towards the house, his arm never pulled away from me till we got inside, that was until Mrs Barnes walked into the kitchen and saw the cut on my cheek, to simply put it she completely freaked out.

I watched her quickly shoo everyone outta the kitchen, she somehow managed to pull a chair out and sit me down while grabbing a towel and bandages, question after question was fired at me while she gently started cleaning to cut. After a while the conversation died out, Mama B was completely fixated on cleaning the cut and if I’m honest the silence was peaceful, well it was for the 5 seconds it lasted.

Bucky burst through the door lookin’ like someone was trying to murder him, not that I could blame them, 2 seconds later Steve and Becca burst through the door armed with…wait is that eyeshadow and lipstick? I watched as Bucky backed into the corner, his eyes wide as he begged them both of them for mercy, whatever he did to piss the pair off clearly warranted this man hunt and there is no way in hell I wanted to stop it just before it got good. Soon enough Becca and Steve some how managed to pin down Buck, and despite the many protests, the pair managed to smear the lipstick all over his face and dump most of the eyeshadow in his hair.

I tried my hardest not to laugh I swear, but he looked like a very disturbed and demented fairy princess and I couldn’t hold it in anymore, soon enough we were all having a little laugh at the poor bloke, eventually Buck saw the funny side of it and he too joined in with the mess that was the Barnes family.

So, I’m gonna be honest here this is more of a filler chapter/character development hopefully it didn’t suck as much as I think it did XD Okay I’ll stop rambling, Thanks for reading!

Rose Xxx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years

Text

Fresh Start: Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Cop!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of an attempted rape.

Word Count: 2,315

A/N: Got the idea for this one while watching ‘The Town’.

Part 1

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“I ain’t gunna get kicked up for any of this, right?” You clarified for what felt like the hundredth time as you fidgeted with the pencil skirt Bucky’s co-worker, Wanda, had loaned you for court.

“No, you’ve got immunity.” Bucky said as he waited with you since he was testifying after you. “Just tell the truth. All of it. Even if you kept it from me. You tell them everything. And keep looking at Stark. Don’t look at your brother at all, OK? He’s gunna try to intimidate you as best as he can.”

“OK, I know.” You said with a nod as you pulled at your skirt some more.

“Relax. Just think of Jess.” He said as he pulled your hands away from the material. “It’s going to be over soon…”

“(Y/N) Odinson.” A woman called out from the doorway. You looked over at her and froze.

“Stand up, doll.” Bucky said softly as he put his hand on the small of your back and pushed you gently. “Go.”

“I can’t.” You said with a shake of your head.

“(Y/N), go. Now.” Bucky said a little more sternly but not loud enough to draw attention. With one final push, you got up and carefully walked over to the woman with the hint of tears in your eyes. She gave you a small smile and turned to lead you into the court room. You took one last glance over your shoulder at Bucky, who only had time to give you a nod, before you made it around the door into the main hall. You could taste bile rising in your throat as your stomach turned painfully. You stumbled twice before even making it through the doors and wanted so badly to just take off running in the opposite direction. But you kept going, focusing only on your daughter’s smiling face in your mind. You stumbled once more into the witness stand and sat down a little too roughly to be sworn in.

“Sorry.” You whispered when you bumped the microphone when you bent over a little bit to fix your heel in your shoe. “Oh, sorry!” You said again after you nearly knocked the Bible out of the bailiffs hand when you sat up too quickly.

“Just take a deep breath for me, (Y/N).” Tony said softly once you had been sworn in. “It’s kinda intimidating to be up there, isn’t it? All these people staring at you.” You nodded in agreement as he walked over and stood between you and the defense table and leaned up against the judge’s bench. “You gotta answer questions out loud, Ms. Odinson.”

“Oh, sorry.” You said as you looked at the microphone in front of you and gently pushed it a little bit away from you.

“That’s alright.” He said with a nod. “Can you state your name and your relationship to the defendant for the court?” You cleared your throat and nodded as you tried to do what Bucky had said but you still couldn’t stop your eyes from looking at the jury to your left, and the people you could see watching the trial as you let these strangers know who you were. “Now, I wanna ask you some questions, Ms. Odinson. Can you tell me about October 18, 2015?”

“It was a Sunday.” You said with a small nod as you glanced down at your lap. “I make supp’a for my broth’a every Sunday. We’re the only family each other’s got left.”

“What did you make?” The prosecutor inquired as he grabbed a packet of tissues from his jacket pocket and handed you one since you had already started to tear up.

“Lasagne.” You said with a slight crack in your voice. “I used my ma’s old recipe. She passed away when I was a teenage’a so I go through her cookbook every year and make a new dish every Sunday. That’s how I know it was lasagne night. October is always Italian month because that’s was my ma’s birth month and that was her favorite. Alfredo or spaghetti first, then fresh pizza, lasagne, and risotto with shrimp and/or sausage. Clockwork.”

“Man, you are making me hungry.” Tony teased to keep you calm. “So what happened that night that made it stand out?”

“We… we had a guest.” You said as you started to fold the tissue meticulously. “A friend of my broth’a’s I guess. I didn’t know him but I was told his name was Jack.”

“Was Jack there when you arrived?”

“No.” You shook your head as you unfolded the tissue to fold it a different way. “I drag Thor to church on Sunday mornin’s. Ma always said you don’t fuck with church days.”

“Please watch your language, Ms. Odinson.” The judge said beside you. You apologized yet again, and gave him a tight lipped smile.

“So when did Jack show up for dinner?” Tony asked as he took a quick few steps over to take a sip of water, letting you see your brother for the first time in almost two years not through a thick piece of glass or a TV monitor. He gave you a curt, subtle nod but his blue eyes told you not to fuck this up for him. They reminded you that if you told the truth, he’d be going away for life, and not the twenty years he was serving now.

“Umm…” You said as you ripped your eyes away from your brother, wishing so badly that you hadn’t looked at him. “He came when I was servin’. I had to use the blue plates…” You said more to yourself as you pictured the spots of blood on the blue glass plates that you had to throw out after that night.

“What happened next?” Tony asked, pointedly as he put himself back between you and your older sibling.

“Then…” You choked as you looked up to find your brothers eyes, only for your own to continue up to Tony’s. You opened your mouth to respond but no sound came out.

“What happened next, (Y/N)?” Tony repeated over the definite forced cough from your brother. Tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to think about your daughter calling someone else mommy.

“We were eatin’ and Jack told Thor that he had messed up a drug run that was supposed to be so simple that I could’a done it. Thor said that last part, not Jack. They were arguing about that and a bank job that went bad.” Tony’s eyebrows shot to his hair line as he stood up straight since he had no idea you knew about the robberies when he tried that case two years prior and you heard a definite growl come from your brother as he realized you were turning on him. You just shook your head and kept talking. “They only did two… banks that is. First one was a small one, some small time local bank in the Town. But the second one was a botched job. My brother’s crew barely got out in one piece. He didn’t go, but he orchestrated it. Anyways, the two of them were arguing about how Jack fucked up the bank job and then the drug job and next thing I know, he pulled out the gun he kept strapped to the bottom of the table and shot him in the temple.”

“Objection!” The defense shouted once the shock of you admitting that your brother was responsible for two bank robberies no one could pin on him. “Those charges were dropped for insufficient evidence.”

“I’m gunna have to say overruled on that one.” The judge said with a nod as he jotted down the notes. “But the jury will disregard that part of the statement.”

“He just kept yelling at me to help clean up.” You said before Tony had asked you to go on. “Tellin’ me to hurry the fuck up and stop bein’ a little bitch about it. There was so much blood everywhere. My lasagna… haven’t made it since… and the plates. I had to throw those out… and they were my moth’a’s!” You said as you looked up at Tony and started to cry. “I wanted to just run away but he said I’d be next if I didn’t help, and I didn’t wanna die. I didn’t. So I just scrubbed and scrubbed until my fingers bled. I don’t know what he did with the body after he dragged it out the back. I didn’t ask. You don’t ask my brother questions.”

“(Y/N), why didn’t you tell police two years ago… or any time between that night and a few days ago about the murder?”

“I was s-scared.” You said as you took a second tissue and swiped at your tears, spreading black streaks across your face. “Thor’s my broth’a. He’s all I have left’a my family. I didn’t wanna lose him and I didn’t wanna know what he’d do to me if I told the truth.”

“So why are you coming clean now?” Tony asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and scratch his chin lightly. “Why, after staying silent after all this time are you speaking out? How do we know you’re not lying here?”

“I ain’t lying.” You said a little harshly. “Not no more. I gotta daught’a. Beautiful angel named Jessica. If I lied here today, I’d’a gone ta jail and my baby girl’d end up in the system. Ain’t no Townie ever did good in the system. It’s rigged.”

“But that doesn’t tell us why you lied in the first place. How do we know that you’re telling the truth now?”

“Because I told my fiancé that night what happened.” You said, realizing that you had left that part out of your little rant, and realizing that Tony was doing his best to be the only one interrogating you so that you didn’t see your brother too much. “He was an undercover cop at the time and neither Thor nor I knew about it. I only found out myself a few nights ago. But I started dating him when he was under cover about four years before Thor was bagged. He was Thor’s right hand.”

“So how’d you find out that he was an officer?”

“Because I was attacked and almost raped on Friday night in my apartment.” You sighed and ran your hands through your hair as you recrossed your legs. “He was the special victims officer that came to take my statement.”

“And you dropped those charges?”

“I did. When Sam… who I now know is named James, showed up, I got angry. He’s the fath’a of my daught’a and he left when Thor was bagged. I always assumed he got bagged with my broth’a for the drugs. So once I gave my statement, I wanted to get away from him. But he helped me realize that I would be committin’ perjury if I lied the way my broth’a wanted me too, since I told him ‘bout the murder. Then I would lose my daught’a. He also pointed out that there was a chance that my broth’a may have had the attack orchestrated since he had been the one to make a similar call in the past. Obviously since he’s in jail for it.”

“And I just want to ask for the record. You and your fiancé have reconciled your differences as of now for the sake of your daughter.”

“Yes’uh.”

“On top of that, you are in no way being forced to make these statements for or because him or anyone else at this moment in time.”

“No suh.”

“So your statement here is true and all your own. No one told you what to say here today, no one paid you any money, and you’re not under threat other than to point out the legal consequences of your actions.”

“Yes’uh.”

“Well that’s all I have for you, my dear. Thank you for your time this morning.” You nodded your head and took a deep breath as Tony walked back to his table. Your eyes instantly met Thor’s and you cringed at the death stare he was giving you. You bit your lip and looked away as the defense attorney, who had been the one to subpoena you in the first place, told the court he was done with you for now but he’d like the option to recall you later, which was something that Tony had pre-warned you about. You nodded your head, and got up to leave on extremely shaky legs, realizing that this wasn’t over yet. You kept your eyes down on the ground as you walked quickly across the front of the court room, but as you hit the divider, Thor grabbed his water glass and chucked it at the side of your face as hard as he could, causing it to shatter.

“You are dead to me!” He shouted as you stumbled into Tony, who caught you just before you hit the floor. “You hear me, bitch? Dead!”

“Don’t… don’t touch it.” Tony said over Thor’s screams as he was carted out of the room by the court officers. “Someone call an ambulance!”

“I should have just lied.” You squeaked as you gently touched a bleeding cut across your cheek and the shard of glass sticking out of the cut. “I take it back…”

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky shouted as he ran up the middle row to help you.

“I wanna go home!” You sobbed as he pulled you over to him.

“OK, it’s gunna be OK, baby doll.” He said with a small nod as he pulled some loose pieces of glass out of your hair. “I promise you. I’ll make it OK again.”

Part 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #cop!bucky x reader #fresh start

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thefloorisbalaclava · 7 years

Text

Rancher!McCree AU - Chapter 3 - Jesse McCree x Fem!Reader

A/N: Finally right? I know this chapter took me a very long time and I apologize but I hope I made this worth the wait!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Words: 2,037 Warnings: angst, racial terminology. I’m not exactly sure if I actually need to ‘warn’ people, but my headcanon is that Jesse is at least half Native and it’s mentioned in this chapter.

You could not get over how great a cook McCree was. You joked about it as you finished your second helping, “Looks like you don’t need me around here.”

McCree chuckles as he wipes his mouth, “You ready to leave me already?”

You shake your head, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Mr. McCree.”

“Thank God for that,” he says, taking you by surprise.

“I’ll clear the dishes.” You stand quickly and reach for his plate.

“You ain’t gotta…,” he starts.

“You cooked, I’ll clean.” You smile at him and he nods once, relenting.

“It’s great havin’ you here, ya know.”

You stop in your tracks, “Is it?”

“Yeah…it’s nice to have someone to talk to other than my horse.”

“I see…” He looks as though he has something else to say, but hesitates. “What is it?” you ask.

“Oh, I…I gotta go back into town tomorrow mornin’.” Your heart drops, but you force a smile. “I’m gonna have a…friend of mine keep an eye out though. I ain’t gonna let anything to you again.”

“That’s very kind of you.” The silence dragged on until it became awkward and both of you try to speak at once.

“You first,” McCree insists.

“I just…I’m grateful. Thank you.”

He eyes you for a moment then smiles, “You’re welcome.” Of all the ways the conversation could have gone, this was the one you least expected. “So, you married? Got kids or anything? Any family?” He could see you visibly stiffen and he’s quick to correct himself. “I don’t mean to pry. You ain’t gotta answer. I’m sorry.”

You blink back a few tears before answering, “I don’t have anyone.” You give him a sad smile then look away, “How about you, Mr. McCree?”

He sighs and shakes his head, “It’s Jesse, remember?” You shrug apologetically and he continues, “I have family, my mother’s side mostly.” He stops for a moment and looks down at his hands, “And I was married once.” You wanted to know more, but it wasn’t your place. Besides, he looked like he was finished talking about it.

“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you,” you say, cleaning the last dish.

“It was a long time ago…too long,” he admits. He sounded sad and distant and you thought it best to call it a night.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the hay. Thanks again for dinner, McCree.”

“Anytime.” He nods at you and you give him a warm smile before retreating to your room. A few minutes later you hear footsteps then a door shut, McCree must have gone to bed. You couldn’t help but to be even more curious about him every day, but you were his employee and asking personal questions was not appropriate.

You had no idea that you would be finding out more about him sooner than you thought.

You wake the next morning remembering that McCree had left to go into town again. Your heart beat a little faster when you think about what happened yesterday, but apparently, he had someone watching you this time.

You listened closely to see if you could hear anyone moving around the house, but you didn’t hear a thing. How could someone watch you without being here?

Since you had some privacy, this was the perfect time for bathing and washing your hair. You got out of bed and walk to the front room to grab the water bucket. Before leaving, you look out the window – no one. You were relieved, but also confused – where was this person that was supposed to be protecting you?

Stepping outside slowly, you shield your eyes from the bright morning sun and breathe in the clean air. The walk to the water pump wasn’t bad, but it would be a challenge getting the full bucket back to the house. You cursed yourself as you tried lifting the bucket.

“Would you like some help with that, ma’am?” an unfamiliar voice asks from behind you. You gasp and turn quickly, coming almost face-to-face with a horse. You look up slowly, shielding your eyes from the sun and back away a little when you see the man clearly.

“W-who are you?”

He smiled gently down at you, seeing your fear. “I am a friend of Jesse’s. I won’t hurt you. There is no reason to be afraid.”

So, this was the friend. McCree did not mention that he was…

“He didn’t tell you I was…Native?” You shake your head, your heartbeat returning to normal. He looked friendly enough and if he was a friend of Jesse’s then you were sure you could trust him.

The man climbed down from his horse and still towered over you. “May I?” He points to the bucket and you nod. He lifts it as if it were full of feathers. His long braid fell over his shoulder as he turned towards you, “Lead the way.” You walk to the house, looking behind you every few steps. “What is your name?” he asks and you tell him. “I’m John…at least that’s the name the white men gave me. My ‘Christian’ name they call it.”

You laugh with him and you point to the fireplace where he sets the it down. “Thank you, John.” You start a fire to heat the water. With your back to him, you find the courage to ask, “How do you know Mr. McCree?”

He chuckles and you look at him, “Sorry, it’s funny to hear him get called Mr. McCree.” He clears his throat and continues, “Jesse and I…grew up together. You see, we’re brothers…”

“Brothers? How…?”

“We have the same mother. After my father died, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. She eventually met the man that would become Jesse’s father. He left as soon as he found out she was pregnant.” He stops and sighs, looking at you, “Will you treat him differently now that you know this?”

You shake your head, “Of course not. He has been nothing but kind to me and his background will not change the way I treat him. If anything, we have more in common now.” John looks at you and tilts his head in question. “My father was a white man who wanted nothing to do with me. My mother worked for him and, well, you can figure out the rest.”

“I’m sorry.” The kind man bows his head and you smile. You suddenly remember that you were in your night clothes and wrap your arms around yourself. “Oh, I am so sorry. I should leave now. It was very nice to meet you.”

“Stay close. I’ll make you lunch.”

He seems to hesitate for a moment before answering, “I’d like that.” He nods once before leaving the house.

You bathe and dress as quickly as you can and start on lunch, making extra for McCree just in case he came back early and so you could have something already done for dinner.

You step outside and spot a man on a horse in the tree line. You wave him over and he makes his way over. “I hope I look a little more presentable now,” you joke. “Please come in. I hope you like mutton.”

“I do,” he says, making his way over to the table which you have already set. “Something else smells delicious.”

“Oh, I have a pie in the over. I wanted to surprise Jesse.”

“Let me,” John says, walking over to quickly pull a chair out for you.

“Thank you.”

He sits across from you and digs in, closing his eyes in delight. “This is delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever had better.” You laugh sheepishly and start to eat. You can feel John’s eyes on you and avoid his gaze. He starts to say something when you both hear the familiar sound of a horse galloping towards the house. You smile inwardly when you realize it must be McCree.

You walk outside with John following closely behind. McCree raises his hand with a smile in greeting, but the smile falters when he sees the man behind you. He walks towards the house, a bag in his hand. His eyes stayed on John and you turn to the man only to see a smirk on his face.

McCree nods at you then turns to John again, “What are you doin’ here?” he asks. You take the bag from him and look between the two men. “Go on inside,” he tells you without so much as glancing in your direction.

“That lovely woman offered me lunch, I wasn’t going to turn her down. Would you like to join us? She’s a wonderful cook.”

“I know that!” You wince at the sudden increased volume of his voice. Then he begins speaking in a language you hadn’t heard before. They went back and forth like that for some time before John comes into the house to bid you farewell.

“You in the habit of invitin’ strange men into the house? My house?” McCree asks angrily.

“He ain’t a strange man, he’s your friend.”

“How do you know he was tellin’ the truth?” he asks and you turn to him, giving him a look of disbelief.

“I’m still alive, ain’t I?” you snap. McCree just sighs and throws his hands up in the air, walking away as if he’s given up trying to argue with you. “Good riddance,” you mumble.

“I ain’t quite hear ya. You wanna repeat that?” He walks over, turning his ear towards you.

“Just shut up and eat,” you blurt out. His eyes widen slightly and you cover your mouth.

“I ain’t hungry.” He starts walking away again.

“Fine, I’ll just let John have the pie I baked.” You walk to the over, ignoring the falter in his steps.

“You two that friendly already?”

“Why do you care?”

“You are somethin’ else, you know that?! You coulda been killed yesterday and here you are lettin’ somebody you don’t even know get close to ya!”

“You mean the same way I got close to you? I’m livin’ in the house with you – alone – away from civilization. You sayin’ I can’t trust you either?”

“You’re twistin’ what I’m sayin’ now. This ain’t ‘bout us…”

“Ain’t it?!” you shout and his mouth opens and closes like he was trying to catch his breath. “Were you ever gonna tell me that this friend of yours was actually your brother?”

Jesse turns his head slowly to look at you then scoffs, “He told you, did he? How does it feel knowin’ that you work for some half breed? A white Injun?”

“Is that what you think of yourself? And do you think so lowly of me? You think I would leave over something as trivial as that?” He starts to speak but you cut him off, “And if you haven’t noticed I’m a mulatto. A half breed as you put it. To those white people, I’m worse than you’ll ever be.” Your voice cracks. “I’m sorry if you feel that way about yourself, but that doesn’t mean I think that way about you.”

You turn away from him and take the pie from the over. You place it on the windowsill to cool. “Apple molasses pie,” you tell him. “Let it cool before you have some.” With that, you remove your apron and walk to your room. He almost follows you, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Instead, he stands outside your closed door, almost knocking a few times, but stopping himself each time. He had no idea why he threw a conniption fit over you making John lunch…

…or did he know why but just wasn’t prepared to admit it? No, that couldn’t be it. He was just lonely and hadn’t been this close to a woman in a long while. He couldn’t explain why he was ready to kill those men in cold blood yesterday just for being near you. He couldn’t explain why he hated the way John looked at you and the way you looked at him.

Actually, he could explain it, but he was stubborn as a mule. Maybe he just needed some sleep. His mind would be a little clearer in the morning.

He hoped.

#Jesse McCree #McCree #McCree x Reader #Overwatch #headcanon

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storywool · 7 years

Text

Longing (part 1)

Summary: *SLOOOWWWWBURN* Y/n Y/L/n is a recent graduate from New York University and Sam Wilson’s life long best friend. She wrote her dissertation on a new experimental surgery that could alter the brain’s memory and speech patterns, a surgery that she plans to use on one of the most famous men in America: the Winter Soldier. Part 1 follows her plan to get the surgery approved and the first steps in the process to de-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes. part 2 // part 3

Word Count: 7,760

“Which one, the green one or the beige one?” Y/n asked her best friend, holding up two distinctly different blouses over her bare chest. She had just gotten out of the shower, had her hair up in a towel, and nothing on but black pants and a bra. She quickly interchanged the two shirts. The green one was a sheer, long-sleeved v-neck that she often paired with a scarf, and the beige one was this peasant type shirt that Sam Wilson didn’t completely understand. But he eyed both of them carefully, knowing she needed his honest opinion.

“The beige one. Looks more professional.” He replied, taking a sip from his coffee. She nodded and roughly took the garment off the hanger. She forced the top over her towel headdress, and hurried back to her room when she pulled it over. Sam followed her and watched her open up her large makeup bag. She shuffled around in it. “You nervous?” He asked.

She scoffed, “Nah, I’m just meeting with Tony fucking Stark to propose a new, never been done before surgery to potentially ‘fix’ the guy who killed his parents.”

Y/n Y/l/n was a recent graduate from the New York University medical school; in undergraduate school, she majored in biology and psychology. She graduated top of her class with honors, and she had recently taken the year off to travel with Sam. She wasn’t sure what she was doing with her career currently, but after Sam joined the Avengers, and she heard all the stories about James Buchanan Barnes, she seemed to find her calling. She began her focus on neurological, experimental surgery and developed an idea to try on the cryogenically frozen superhero. After proposing the idea to a professor, getting his approval, and talking it over with Sam, she managed to get an interview with Stark (without the help of Sam). She had been preparing for this interview for weeks, and today was the day. Her nerves were absolutely shot and she felt like throwing up.

She laughed to herself. Despite being best friends with Sam and living with him for the past ten years or so, she hadn’t met a single member of the Avengers other than Steve Rogers. She was studying abroad in Norway when Steve and Natasha came to Sam for help, so she didn’t get to meet them then. She hadn’t met them not because she didn’t want to, but she was always busy when they weren’t, and vice versa. But she was about to meet Tony Stark, and terrified didn’t even begin to explain it.

“I can still come with you.” Sam offered.

She shook her head as she finished putting on mascara. “No, it’s fine. I want to get this because my science is sound, not because I know the right people.” Sam always had connections and was always using them to help her. She was thankful for that, but she wanted to do this on her own. She wanted to feel like she earned it.

Sam yawned loudly and stretched. “Well, I believe in you. I gotta go though.” He wrapped Y/n in a side hug so she wouldn’t have to stop putting on her makeup, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Gotta go play cards with Scott some more, you mean?” She smiled cheekily at him through the mirror. Since they didn’t have any cases currently, all Sam seemed to do was hang around Stark Towers and play cards with Scott Lang. But it paid the bills, and he was happy. After his tour with the army, he was never happy, so it was nice to see him this way.

He shot finger guns at her instead of responding. “Good luck!” He called down from the hallway. Y/n heard the front door open and then close.

Y/n finished her makeup, blow dried her hair, and threw on a pair of black heels. After throwing on a coat and hurriedly locking the door, she walked away from their shared house and headed toward the subway station. She took the train that would lead directly to Stark Towers. The whole ride, she rehearsed her ‘elevator pitch’ to herself over and over until she felt she could say it without shaking.

She exited the subway tunnels and entered the bustling New York City streets. Directly in front of her, was the landmark building- ‘Stark’ was written across the top in large, white letters. The building was a staggering 93-story high skyscraper separated into two sections, and lined with wide, blue windows. Y/n took a deep, shaky breath in and moved toward the door when a familiar hand reached out to grab it for her.

The large figure smiled down at her as he held the door open. Y/n looked up at the blonde-haired man and returned the grin. Steve Rogers was looking dapper as ever in a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and leather jacket. Y/n mentally laughed at the Captain America patch on the pocket. He looked healthy, considering everything that had happened recently. She couldn’t help but feel her anxiety wash away as she looked up at her friend. Sam was always the one to make her smile and laugh, but Steve always made her feel safe and at home. Part of it was because they were both from Brooklyn and she felt a sense of home in his presence, but he also saved Y/n’s life a few months back. She trusted him ever since.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” He beamed. His voice was chipper, even for him.

“Back at ya, handsome.” She entered the building and walked with Steve to the front desk. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I had my date last night.” He had been talking about this date with Sharon for weeks, and it had finally happened. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what happened but it was obviously good.

Y/n smiled and gasp lightly, “Yay, finally! I can’t wait to hear all about it. You seein’ her again soon?” She handed the receptionist her I.D.

“What brings you here today?” The receptionist asked.

“Tomorrow night.” Steve replied at the same time.

“Oh fun!” She said to Steve first, and then turned to the receptionist, “I have a meeting with Tony Stark at 9:00.” The receptionist ran her name through the computer, printed out a fancy I.D. badge, and handed the badge and her license back to Y/n. Y/n thanked the woman, and walked toward the elevators with Steve.

“Meeting for what?” He raised an eyebrow and pressed the up button. Y/n swallowed; she hadn’t told Steve about the operation yet because she didn’t want to get his hopes up if she couldn’t fix his best friend. Y/n mulled over whether to answer the question truthfully or not. She didn’t want to mention Bucky, only for Stark to say no.

She cleared her throat, “Uh, I wanted to talk to him about a possible internship.” It wasn’t a total lie. After that, she acted like she was too busy marveling the beauty of the building to answer in depth; again, not a total lie. The lobby was enough to take anyone’s breath away; it had vaulted ceilings, flying buttresses, and all the latest technology displayed on all the walls. The Stark Tower was very much like the old S.H.I.E.L.D tower, except it was a bit smaller and fewer people traveled in and out the doors. Even the elevator was awe inspiring with its glass walls.

“I looked just like that when I first came here.” Steve whispered to her on the packed elevator.

Y/n made light conversation with Steve the rest of the way up. They talked about Steve’s date a little and whether they were going to do their weekly Monday lunch with Sam or not. They agreed that they would, and that she’d meet him on the 60th floor after her interview. He got off and wished her luck. Once he was gone, her anxiety returned immediately, and only rose as the elevator did.

On the 93rd floor, she exited the elevator and entered a waiting room type area. At the front desk sat a brunette woman, who Y/n informed that she was here to meet with Mr. Stark. The receptionist replied curtly, “He’s very busy. Impress him in the first minute or he won’t hear you out.” Y/n nodded, swallowed the lump in her throat, and took a seat. She drummed the folder in her lap with her fingers and bounced her leg up and down. Five minutes passed when the elevator doors opened up and the infamous Tony Stark marched out. He was wearing a tight, black suit; his face was clean shaven despite a few scraps from a possibly recent battle. He said hello to his receptionist and hesitated when he saw Y/n.

She stood up and stuck her hand out to shake his. “Who’s this?” He asked.

“Your nine o’clock, sir.” The receptionist replied.

“Also known as Y/n Y/l/n…sir.” Y/n blushed slightly.

Stark eyed her up and down before turning on his heel. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t have a lot of time. Talk fast.”

Y/n began to panic. Everything she had planned to say was thrown out the window. She stuttered along her words as she tried to follow Stark as best as she could. “I think I uh-” As they walked, several assistants came up to Stark and asked him to sign here, initial there, smile at the camera, etc. Y/n recognized one of the women as Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s girlfriend. Y/n couldn’t seem to get a word in. “I spoke with my former research professor and-” Y/n stammered as she was interrupted by more people. Stark held up a finger at her to tell her to wait. Y/n could feel her panic and anger rising. He was being completely unprofessional and Y/n did not appreciate it.

She stopped walking and realized Stark didn’t even know she wasn’t following. He was continuing on farther into the distance. Y/n swallowed her pride, gathered her breath, and shouted over the noise and chatter, “I found a way to fix Bucky!”

Stark stopped moving and turned back to face her slowly. The noise around them died down as her words sunk in. Y/n’s face turned a bright red and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry.

“You what?” He whispered. Y/n couldn’t tell if the whisper was cynical or surprised. She was shaking. Stark could feel his own heartbeat increase slightly. No one outside of the Avengers and the few remaining people from S.H.I.E.L.D knew what happened in Siberia between him, Steve, and Bucky, and even fewer people knew that Bucky went back on the ice.

“I-uh- think I know how to fix Buck- Sergeant Barnes.” She stuttered. She fidgeted with the folder and held it out for him. He quickly swiped it from her hands, and him and Pepper read over the files inside. The folder contained a detailed explanation of the operation, a twenty page research paper, and the cited works. Pepper oh’d and awed as she skimmed the paperwork.

Y/n cleared her throat and continued, “I have a theory that instead of picturing Barnes’ brain as a whole, imagine it as the parts it is.”

She paused to gauge Stark’s reaction. He bit his lip and continued reading. “Come with me.” He said once finished with the files. He slapped the folder close and moved for the door. He held it open for Pepper and Y/n, and she entered what she assumed was Stark’s warehouse/ research lab. He handed the folder to a floating robot that Stark seemed to talk to like it was human. Once the robot scanned the files, he motioned his arm to bring up an electric, holographic copy of the paper. “Continue.”

Y/n cleared her throat again, “Uh, well, you see, the reason he keeps reverting to his Winter Soldier self is because of the sequence of words: Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, and freight car. If you remove the significance of those words, especially in that order, theoretically the Winter Soldier side of him can’t be activated.”

“How do you know about all of this?” Pepper asked.

“How do we do that?” Stark asked at the same time.

Y/n decided to answer Stark’s question first. “Well, Wernicke’s area in the temporal lobe is responsible for understanding language and the parietal lobe interprets language. If you operate on those areas and basically rearrange the wiring, it might make him forget those words and the significance of that sequence.”

“Wouldn’t he theoretically forget how to speak?” Stark questioned. He flipped through the holographic research paper and noted points in her paper.

She nodded, “Yes, most likely he’d have to relearn everything. According to my research, he might remember how to speak English since that was his first language, but it’s not a guarantee.”

“Technically none of this is a guarantee.” Pepper mumbled. Y/n tried to suppress giving her the side eye, but let it show slightly.

Y/n ignored it and continued, “Operating on the temporal lobe would also affect his memory…if we could target the right memories, we could remove the meaning behind those words that trigger him.” Y/n finished and felt utterly proud of herself. It did not go as smooth as she hoped, but she did it.

“We? Ms…” Pepper peered at the name on top of her paper, “Y/n, you shouldn’t even know about this stuff. This is classified information.”

Y/n sighed. She didn’t want to have to name drop, but here she was. “I’m Sam Wilson’s childhood best friend and roommate. He told me all about Bucky, and I researched it in depth. Everyone who has tried to look into this topic has been thinking about Bucky as a whole, not as parts. His whole brain isn’t what’s the problem…those words are.”

They both stared at her. Stark absentmindedly bit his thumb as he thought. Her plans were detailed and her science was sound, it was just the experimentation of it all. He couldn’t attempt a never been done before surgery on Steve’s best friend. He couldn’t be responsible if it didn’t work. His mind was racing with thoughts and he was barely paying attention to the conversation. He heard Y/n say she was best friends with Sam and Steve, that they hadn’t met yet because of poor timing, and that she came up with the idea after a drunken night with Steve.

“Pepper, can you fetch Bruce?” He asked suddenly, knocking Pepper off her momentary soap box. She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. Once the doors closed behind her, Stark sighed. “She’s so worried about the politics and logistics. I don’t care how you know this information. I just care about your science.”

He looked Y/n up and down. She looked so nervous and absolutely terrified. It was then that Stark realized he hadn’t said any encouraging words to her yet. He hadn’t said anything to calm her nerves. Y/n was, Stark noticed, a very pretty girl with an obvious brain between her ears. She was of average height, long hair, wide and anxious eyes, and a nervous smile. She was wearing a partially see through top, and Stark could see an arm tattoo poking through. It was typewriter like writing, but Stark couldn’t make out the word.

“What’s your arm tattoo say?”

Y/n yelped slightly and stared down at her arm. “Oh, it uh, says ‘longing’…which I realize is kind of funny now that I’m trying to fix the Winter Soldier whose first trigger word is ‘longing’.” She rubbed the spot on her arm and smiled slightly. The look on Stark’s face told her to continue, “My dad was a writer before he joined the Army. My favorite poem he ever wrote was called ‘Longing’ and he wrote it after his tour. I thought the poem was about love, but after he committed suicide, I realized what it was about. It’s kind of my goodbye to him.”

Stark’s heart sank slightly. He learned so much about Y/n in those few sentences. He felt for her, too because she lost her father, and that was always a hard thing for anyone to face. He cleared his throat. “I’m getting Dr. Banner to review your plans. I think they look pretty solid, but I need another pair of eyes.”

Y/n felt her insides swell. Tony Stark, son of legend Howard Stark, just said her plans looked good! If she were alone, she would have started dancing. “Wait, seriously?” She couldn’t help but say. A wide smile broke across her face. Stark grinned too. She was adorable, for lack of a better word. She reminded him of a girl version of Sam, which would make sense with them being best friends and all.

The doors opened and Bruce Banner entered the room. His hair was an absolute mess, he was wearing a purple button up and gray slacks, and his glasses sat crookedly on his face. His eyes searched the room, stopping only briefly on the holograph projections before laying on Y/n. She stuck her hand out and he shook it firmly as they exchanged introductions.

“Bruce, look through these files.” Stark handed him the physical folder because he preferred paper over electronics. Stark gave him 10 minutes to read over it. Y/n found a chair nearby and pulled up a seat. Stark offered her a drink, and she requested a coffee. She hadn’t had her morning cup yet, and it was catching up to her.

Bruce took off his glasses and bit the end of them when he was finished reading. “It’s sound science…good science at that.” Stark pulled Bruce off to the side and they spoke in hushed whispers. They were talking about the best way to go about the situation. Y/n heard them whisper about rats and test subjects and how to get Bucky to agree. She cleared her throat and the two men turned to her. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I did come up with the idea after all.”

They stared at her for a second, and then Stark broke out laughing. He shrugged his shoulder. “I guess you’re right.” He paused and walked over to Y/n. “What do we need to do next?”

She blinked rapidly, not entirely sure what to say. She hadn’t thought past the interview itself. She guessed that they’d need to get approval from someone to do this research, they’d have to get a team that could work on it together, and they’d have to get something to test the surgery on. And then they’d still have to get Bucky out of the ice and get his approval. She explained this to them, and they agreed. It was set that Tony would file paperwork with the United Nations (per the Sokovia Accords), and then they’d go from there.

“I’ll give you a call when I get word from the U.N. Until then, you should come work here. I could use a brain like yours.” Tony said. She nodded excitedly at the prospect of working at Stark Tower with the Avengers. Tony grinned widely and told Y/n to be back tomorrow.

She left the room, headed to the elevator, and moved down to the floor where Steve said he’d be. She felt absolutely elated. She couldn’t wait to tell Sam, but that also meant telling Steve. She exited the elevator and came face to face with the whole Avengers crew. Wanda and Vision were talking in the corner, Sam and Scott were playing cards (typical), Steve was reading Harry Potter per Y/n’s request, and Natasha and Clint were playing chess. Y/n noted that Thor wasn’t there, though. She chuckled at how…normal they all looked. They stared up at her as the elevator opened.

Sam jumped up from his spot immediately and practically skipped over to her. “How’d it go?”

She beamed up at him and whispered, “Stark’s sending the paperwork to the U.N. to get approval. Until then, he gave me a job working with him!”

Sam yelped and pulled Y/n into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so proud of you!” Sam let her go and turned back to the group. “Guys, this is my best friend Y/n. Y/n, these are the guys.”

Y/n waved nervously as Natasha said, “So you’re the infamous Y/n Steve and Sam keep talking about.” She rose from her seat and shook Y/n’s hand. She smiled warmly. Y/n wished in that moment that she had met Natasha earlier. She seemed like such a nice person.

The rest of the Avengers greeted her as she made her rounds before she made her way over to Steve. He put his book down when she got to him. “By the look on your face, I’d say it’s good news.” He chuckled. Y/n found herself suddenly very nervous.

“Can we go for a walk?” She asked. Steve raised an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. She turned back to Sam and told him the plan. He offered to be there, but Y/n knew she needed to tell Steve alone.

They entered the surprisingly empty elevator. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n cut him off. “Not yet.” Y/n said. He closed his mouth and kept his eyes fixed on the door. Y/n could feel her heart beat in her throat and found herself biting her nails nervously. Steve could sense her unease, and realized he too was growing anxious.

They exited Stark Towers, walked a few blocks east, and came to their favorite coffee shop. This shop was the birthplace of Steve and Y/n’s friendship, and the foreground of several wonderful memories. The most recent memory being the day Steve finally asked Sharon out. Sam and Y/n yelled so loudly that they were almost kicked out.

Today’s news would either bring Steve joy or terror, and both responses scared Y/n. They ordered lattes from the barista and found seats away from everyone else. They sat down and Y/n sighed. She looked around at her surroundings and thought of what to say to him.

“So…how’d your date with Sharon go?”

He laughed, knowing she was stalling. “It was really nice. I picked her up from her apartment, we went to that restaurant you suggested,” Y/n chuckled at that additive, “and then we went for a walk in Central Park. I showed her all of the places that were there when I was a teenager and that are still standing. And then we went back to my place and…”

Y/n squealed, “Steve Rogers you dirty grandpa! I never would have pegged you for a sex on the first date kinda guy!”

Steve sipped his coffee before replying. He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Well, she’s not your average girl, so I didn’t think what I usually did was the right way to go.” Y/n felt herself blush and her heart swim. She was so happy for Steve.

“I want details.” Steve told her all the nasty, probably too-much-information moments shared between Sharon and Steve last night. She loved that she could have these kinds of conversations with Steve, despite how conservative he usually was about relationship stuff.

Once their moment passed and Y/n was completely caught up on the night before, and Steve assumed Y/n was ready to talk, he cleared his throat, “So, is everything okay?”

Y/n smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no.” She took a deep breath. “So I got a job with Stark to work on a new operation.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and grinned. “That’s incredible! So why the long face?”

She thumbed the side of her warm coffee. “The operation is to basically rewire the parts of the brain that deal with speech while leaving the other parts not tampered with. We’re basically going to remove the meaning behind words and re-teach the patient how to speech, essentially. It’s never been done before and there are a lot of things that could go wrong, and Stark and Banner seem optimistic. But-”

Steve’s face dropped. “But,” he paused, “who’s the patient?”

Y/n hesitated. Steve reached out his hand for hers and squeezed it. She didn’t know whether to build up to the name drop or just go for it. Either way, Steve would have questions.

“It’s Bucky.”

Silence fell over the table. Her gaze fell to the table as Steve retracted his hand from Y/n’s. He left his mouth agape. He frowned. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and felt like she was going to cry if Steve didn’t say anything. But Steve was too dumbfounded to speak. Y/n hurried to formulate sentences in her mind to ease the tension growing between them.

“The only way to get him off the ice is to find some way to get rid of his Winter Soldier side. At least that’s what you told me. Since that night, I’ve been thinking of ways to…” She paused, searching for the right word but came up short, “I guess, fix him?” She glanced up at Steve and his expression was unchanged. Y/n reached out her hand this time and spoke to him, not at him. She stared into his eyes as she spoke, “I know how much he means to you. You’ve done so much for me, and all I want to do is repay those favors.”

“And you thought a never been done surgery would do that?” He snapped. Y/n was taken aback. She couldn’t believe his response.

“Steve, you know just as well as I do that the only way to help Bucky is to do things that have never been done before.” She scoffed and crossed her arms. She was thought about what to say next. She didn’t really want to tell him what inspired her to help, but it was the only way to get him to understand. “You told me about him and who he was before he fell off that train, and my heart hurt because of how much you cared about him. I’ve never seen anyone care about someone else so damn much, and if anyone cared about me that much, I’d do whatever it took to get them back. All I want to do is bring him back. After you told me all about him, before and after the Winter Soldier, I changed my major in school so I was better suited to help him. I’ve literally been preparing for this since I graduated from undergrad.” She didn’t mean to say it so viciously, but she felt like Steve doubted her abilities. She also felt embarrassed at her admission. While she had Sam, and Steve cared enough, she never had anyone love her like Steve loved Bucky. It didn’t necessarily make her jealous, but a large part of her wanted someone who would give life and limb for her.

Steve diverted his eyes and bit his lip. He was ashamed that he went off on Y/n the way he did. But he was scared, and he wasn’t sure how to admit that. The thought of getting Bucky back only to have him disappear again was too much to handle. He couldn’t leave his best friend up to chance. He trusted Y/n. He didn’t trust fate.

Steve cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Y/n. “How will it work?”

Y/n stared at Steve and blinked tears from her eyes. She was certain Steve wasn’t going to allow them to go through with it. She explained the possibility of him forgetting how to speak, the way they could change some of his memories, and the likelihood of recovery. She reiterated that Stark’s technology is unlike any in a standard hospital, and that she would not be performing the surgery directly.

“Obviously, this all ultimately hinges on approval from the U.N. and if Bucky says yes.” She finished. They had finished their coffees and almost an hour had passed. Steve was visibly processing her words still, parsing each and every sentence she said. They left the coffee shop and headed back to Stark Towers. They got back on the elevator, which was empty. They hadn’t exchanged words since they left the coffee shop, until they were halfway back to the 60th floor.

“By the way, you do have people who care about you as much as I do about Buck. You got me after all.” Steve whispered to Y/n, and reached out his hand to take hers. They intertwined their fingers, and he squeezed lightly. Steve smiled down at her. She suddenly felt better about everything that had happened.

That night, Sam and Y/n were bundled up on the couch and sharing a cheese pizza. They were watching the latest episode of Game of Thrones when Sam paused the TV. He turned his body to face Y/n and cleared his throat. He gave her a look that said ‘we need to talk’.

“Oh god, why that face?” She asked, throwing down her plate.

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, “I’m just worried about this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” Y/n crossed her arms and sat up higher in her seat. She, of course, knew what Sam was referring to, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“The Bucky thing-” Y/n tried to interject, but Sam kept on, “I’m not worried about you at all. I trust you more than my own doctor, who’s a Jewish man in his fifties and has been a doctor for the latter half of his life. I’m worried about Bucky.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, “Why?”

He laid his head on the arm he had stretched on the back of the couch. “You know why…he’s dangerous, Y/n. People think of him as the bad guy, and I don’t know what he’ll do when he comes out of the ice.”

Y/n reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed lightly. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

A week had passed, and Y/n was now officially a Stark Industries employee (paperwork took longer to process than expected). She returned to Stark Towers with Sam, just like Stark had instructed. It was a little after ten when they arrived. It was later than usual, but since they worked on their own schedules, it wasn’t a big deal. She waited on the 60th floor with the rest of the Avengers until Stark came and got her. She talked to Steve about his night with Sharon, and they tiptoed around the one conversation they really wanted to have. Sam could feel the awkward tension. He ignored it though, chalked it up to misinterpretation.

The Avengers talked about their nights as they all settled in for the day. Sam and Y/n saw the new Wonder Woman movie, Steve went on his date, and Scott got to see his daughter for a while. The rest of them reported nothing interesting, so they spent the time talking about Wonder Woman and how badass she was.

A voice spoke over the PA for Y/n to come to Stark’s office. The group oh’d like kids in a classroom, and one of them just got called to the principal’s office. Y/n rolled her eyes, bid ado, and headed to her first day at her new job.

As soon as she exited the elevator, Stark greeted her. He handed her a folder immediately. He turned to walk away, and Y/n followed closely. “Your file…while I prefer electronic everything, we kept paperback-ups. I didn’t put your name on it because didn’t know your title.” He explained.

Y/n smiled down at her manila envelope and opened it. Inside were standard documents like her birth certificate, resume, and photo copies of her license. “Oh, it’s Doctor Y/n Y/l/n.”

Stark stopped in his tracks. “Why didn’t you correct me when I called you ‘Ms.’?”

She laughed lightly. She got that question so often. “It’s just a title-”

“A title that you worked on for years.” Stark cut her off, and laughed. Y/n shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t go to medical school for a title; she went to help people.

Stark continued to walk and show Y/n around the office. He pointed to a room that was his office and told her to go there whenever she needed anything. He then informed her that her personal office was on the 61st floor, right next to Bruce’s office. Stark handed her an I.D. badge to use for all the doors she would need access to.

They reached the lab, and Y/n noticed that it was messier than last time. Bruce was already there too, sitting at the table and reading over a letter.

“As fun as it’s been showing you around, we need to get down to business.” Stark said, clapping his hands together as he did so. Bruce handed her the paper. At the top was the United Nation’s logo. Y/n glanced up at Stark and Bruce expectantly, and then hurriedly read over the paper.

“We have granted permission for your team to pursue this research on the condition that no other humans are given the treatment until further approval.” She read aloud. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she felt like she was screaming. They got approval! She squealed then looked back up at the two men. “I’m gonna give myself ten seconds to celebrate, so cover your ears.”

They plugged their ears with their fingers and Stark held up his watch to count the seconds. Their fingers in their ears did nothing to block out Y/n’s piercing screams. She danced in her spot, and jumped up and down. As soon as Stark signaled that her ten seconds were up, she shut her mouth and stopped jumping, but couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Bruce and Stark grinned widely, too.

“So what do we do next?” She asked. She drummed her hands on the table in excitement.

“We wake Bucky up.” Stark replied.

Good feeling gone.

“Already?” She questioned nervously. She knew this day would come, but did not anticipate it being today.

Stark shrugged, “No point in doing anything else if he says no.”

Y/n thought for a moment and absentmindedly thumbed her necklace. She cleared her throat and nodded, “I’ll go get Steve.”

Steve tapped his foot nervously. He bit his thumbnail and exhaled loudly. Y/n glanced up at him, wrapped her arm through his crossed ones, and squeezed his forearm. They stood with their arms interlocked as Stark’s team of scientists rushed around the room to prepare for Bucky’s ‘unthawing’.

They stood in an open room with white ceilings and floors. The doctors wore white lab coats and they walked around with white clipboards and white glasses. Y/n noted how sterile everything seemed, and how unease it all made her. She was nervous for obvious reasons, but the severity and rigidness of the room, which was so unlike the rest of Stark Towers, was the number one cause for concern.

They wheeled Bucky’s sleeping chamber out onto the main floor where Steve and Y/n waited. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat upon laying his eyes on Bucky’s cryogenically frozen body. Y/n felt her heart stop too. She heard the stories, saw the news, but seeing him in person was something completely different. Seeing his closed eyes, his peaceful face, and his non-ageing body in person was unreal. She even felt a little guilty for thinking he was attractive.

Stark turned back to Steve and Y/n. “Ready?”

Y/n nodded and Stark dipped his head slightly. Steve wasn’t really ready, but he was as ready as he was ever going to be. On the bright side, he’d have his best friend again, but at what cost? Stark moved his attention back to the control panel in front of him. He twisted and flipped some buttons, and with a lot less pomp and circumstance than Y/n imagined, the machine hissed with the sound of thawing ice. The latch on the door turned as the door moved to open itself, exposing Bucky’s body to the fresh air.

As the ice thawed and the hissing grew quieter, time seemed to stop. They all waited in anticipation for that moment when Bucky would take his first breath and he’d open his eyes. And as much as Y/n wanted to watch this moment happen, she couldn’t help but watch her best friend instead. She knew this whole thing was taking a toll on Steve, and he was being such a good sport about it all, but being in the moment was something completely new. Y/n watched Steve’s heartbroken eyes as she heard Bucky’s first inhale. Steve squeezed her hand tighter, and he seemed to start shaking under her touch.

It was when Bucky started coughing loudly that Y/n turned her attention to him. He sat up in his seat so he could see; his flesh hand covered his mouth as he coughed. He eyed the room around him, but calmed down when he recognized his surroundings and most importantly, recognized Steve. His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of his best friend. “Steve…” Bucky whispered. Steve unwrapped himself from Y/n and ran over to Bucky. He sat up in the chamber and wrapped Steve in a tight hug.

“How long was I under?” Bucky asked Steve. Y/n traded a glance with Tony and noticed his rigid stance and nervous expression. The air was tense, and Y/n didn’t know which side of the tension she belonged on.

“A little over two years.” They separated and a man brought Bucky a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants to change into. Bucky hurriedly pulled the shirt over his bare chest and the sweatpants over his boxers. Steve helped him out of the chamber. Bucky wavered slightly, as he wasn’t used to using his legs. He wrapped his metal arm over Steve’s shoulders, and Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Why am I back? Did you find a way to fix me?” Y/n’s heart sank at Bucky’s phrasing. He was scared of himself, and Y/n couldn’t imagine what that must be like.

“We think we did.” Steve replied. He motioned back to Y/n, who stood awkwardly in the background with a clipboard and nervous expression. Steve moved Bucky over to her. She put out her hand for him to shake; his touch was cold, but his skin was soft. Y/n’s cheeks reddened and her stomach twisted.

“This is Dr. Y/n Y/l/n: genius, comedian, beauty, and your savior.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and smiled. “Genius is a bit much, but the rest is pretty accurate.” That made Bucky chuckle and Y/n felt slightly better.

“Ah, a Brooklyn gal?” He joked. Bucky studied Y/n from her black boots up to her eager eyes and kind smile. Her homely presence and gentle touch gave Bucky a weird sense of calmness. Bucky noted her awkward cuteness, and grinned.

“Born and raised. Steve and I actually met each other in Brooklyn one day when Sam came to visit my family in Brooklyn.” She traded a glance with Steve, “Anyways, it’s wonderful to meet you. Steve’s told me all about you.”

“Y/n’s been working on a new operation with Stark and Banner.” Steve added.

Bucky did not take his eyes off of Y/n. “What you got for me, Doll?” He asked Y/n, adding a wink at the end for good measure. Y/n remembered Steve telling her that his catchphrase was ‘doll’. She was glad to see that that hadn’t changed.

She laughed, “Well it’s a lot actually. Why don’t we move somewhere more comfortable?” She turned to Tony and nodded at him to follow. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Y/n moved toward the elevator to head to the top floor. On the elevator, Bucky and Steve chatted the whole way up. Bucky asked about girls, and Y/n was prepared to hear his rant about Sharon that Y/n got months ago, but came up short. He gave a short ‘no’ and Y/n laughed.

The boys turned to her. Bucky leaned against the elevator wall and eyed her. He knew Steve wasn’t being completely honest with him, and Y/n’s laugh gave that away. But he didn’t press the issue; he’d only been out of the ice for five minutes, no point in pissing people off. “What about you, Y/n? You got anybody?”

“I live with Sam. That’s enough to keep anyone from settling down.” She said, making Bucky chuckle again. She told him about how she knew Sam since elementary school, how they’ve been best friends since middle school, and how they’ve been living together since her senior year of high school (really since her dad died, but she wasn’t about to share that).

The elevator reached their designated floor, and everyone filed out one by one. Steve grabbed Y/n’s arm to hold her back as Bucky and Tony moved to the lab.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n questioned, worry lacing her words. Steve waited until they were completely out of ear shot.

“I’m worried about him.”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, “He hasn’t acted like this since before he fell. I’m afraid that the honeymoon will pass and he’ll snap.”

Y/n reached out and rubbed his bicep. She sighed- she totally understood his fear, but the constant comments from Sam and Steve about Bucky being ‘dangerous’ were starting to piss her off. She swallowed her annoyance and paid attention to her friend. He was so worried about his best friend. Y/n wasn’t completely sure what to say to qualm his anxiety. She grabbed his arm, pulled him into a hug, wrapped her arm around his waist, and squeezed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed too. Y/n sighed again. She loved his hugs.

“I know you’re worried. But give him time- give us time. We’ll get him back to the old him.”

They separated and Steve placed a light kiss on her forehead. “I trust you.”

Y/n grinned, “I know. Now, let’s go convince him.”

They walked into the room, and Bucky and Tony were not speaking, which they expected. Bucky was tinkering with a piece of technology that he shouldn’t have been touching and Tony was off in the distance, preparing for their meeting. Y/n noticed Bruce in the corner peering over a computer screen.

“He’s been touching stuff since he got in here.” Bruce said, pointing over to Bucky.

Steve scoffed, “Well he’s a person, not a dog.” Bruce smiled sarcastically. Y/n sat her stuff down on the table and moved over to Bucky. He reached out to touch a laser pointer that definitely would have severed a finger if he’d gotten any closer.

“Don’t touch that.” Y/n yelped. She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the machine. “If you want to keep what fingers you have left I mean.” She explained at his confused face. She smiled, hoping he’d laugh at her feeble attempt at a joke; he did, wide and unapologetic. She thought it was curious that he seemed so jovial when everyone kept telling her he was the opposite.

He stared at the equipment in front of him, and Y/n stared at him. “Bucky, Y/n.” Steve said. They turned to him sitting at the table, Tony and Bruce patiently waiting. Tony had a file prepared for Bucky and sat it in front of him. Y/n stood at the head of the table with Tony. She suddenly felt super nervous again.

Tony pulled up some of the holographic images again. The first image was a picture of Bucky’s brain, with the temporal lobe highlighted. Y/n cleared her throat and looked at Bucky, “So I’m gonna start off by saying that I came up with these ideas, but I won’t actually be performing the surgery.” She chuckled. Bucky did not react, but she expected that much.

She went through the surgery process, what to expect, how he might forget how to speak for a while, and how Tony and Bruce knew what they were doing. Y/n felt Bucky’s apprehension rise. Tony was going on some tangent about the surgery, when Y/n held up a hand to cut him off.

“What questions do you have?” She asked Bucky at his confused face. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled, and Y/n’s heart swelled slightly.

He forced a laugh, “I guess I just don’t understand how a surgery’s gonna fix everything.”

“To be completely honest, it won’t. Part of the treatment is doing therapy a few times a week…with me.” Steve’s eyes widened a bit, he didn’t know about this part, “Part of what we will do is figure out the meaning behind your trigger words, and try to help you heal from the trauma you’ve experienced. Bucky,” She spread her hands on the table and leaned forward to talk directly to him, “you’ve been through a shit ton-”

Tony held his hand up to stop her, “The idea being that to cope with these issues, you need to talk about these issues.”

Y/n shrugged and tugged at the end of her sleeves. Bucky assumed it was a nervous tick of hers. “What I was going to say, but more eloquent.” Bucky thumbed through the papers in the folder, reading over the fine print and scientific jargon to see if he could understand the operation more. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Read over the file tonight, we’ll answer any remaining questions in the morning, and then we can go from there.” Y/n responded, rubbing her hands together and trading glances with the men in the room.

Steve sat forward in his seat and clasped his hands together on the table. “I’ll show Bucky where his room his. We’ll just meet in the morning.”

They all agreed and parted ways. Bucky, head buried in the file, walked with Steve to the elevator to go to the 50th floor where Bucky would be staying. Steve requested that Tony prepare the room next to Bucky’s for himself; that way he could be close to Bucky in the off chance something happened. Y/n finished up some last minute work with Tony and Bruce before retiring to the 60th floor to pick Sam up.

“How’s my favorite scientist?” Sam asked upon seeing Y/n.

“Stark’s upstairs.” She sarcastically replied. She grabbed the coat from Sam’s outstretched hand and threw it over her shoulders. She sighed loudly as she did so.

“Rough day?”

She nodded, “I don’t know who’s stressing me out more, Bucky or Steve.”

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #scott lang #marvel imagines #marvel fan fic #bruce banner #tony stark #post civil war #marvel au #bucky barnes au #slowburn #very slowburn

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 7 years

Text

The New World - Part 7

Here is the FULL chapter for part 7! As always, thank you for reading it, this series is easily becoming one of my favorites to write!!

Daryl x Reader, Maggie X Glen, Ezekiel x everyone, Rick x Michonne x Carl

Warnings: Language, Canon-divergence, Character death, Comic storyline crossover

Word Count: 4268

Rick’s pace quickened as it rounded the corner and approached the outside of the cell. Sasha stood against the wall, her gaze off in the opposite direction. The sound of Rick’s boot steps snapped her back to attention, making her stand taller at the door.

“He up?” Rick asked, trying to peer into the small cell window.

“I don’t know, he’s been quiet though.”

“Who’s inside tonight?”

“No one, with Daryl and them gone, and Tobin and Spencer put off duty, we were shorthanded. I tried to get a few of the others but, they were all busy.”

“Comforting,” Rick grunted, shaking his head. “I’m going in.”

“You got it, boss,” Sasha handed Rick the keys and stepped aside for him to enter.

Rick unlocked the door and shoved the keys in his pocket.

He cautiously stepped foot into the prison, first looking down the walkway that passed from the cell to the back door of the townhouse, then over to the cell door.

Rick froze when he saw the cell door was wide open and Negan was nowhere to be found.

Rick stood staring into the empty cell, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Sasha!” he shrieked in a voice thick with panic.

Within seconds, Sasha was yanking open the iron gate and running into the cell.

“What? What’s …” She followed Rick’s wide pale expression to the open, empty cage. Rick heard her audibly gasp, her eyes wide with panic. “Rick, I swear, I didn’t…”

“I know Sasha, I know it wasn’t you,” Rick squeezed his eyes shut trying to think of his next move. “Get to my house. Make sure Michonne and the kids are ok. Get Carl to stay with Judy, tell Michonne to get armed, meet me back here.”

Sasha nodded once and took off to follow his orders. A noise from down the hallway caught Rick’s attention. Quietly slipping the python from its holster, he released the safety and readied himself for whatever lay ahead.

The hallway was nearly pitch dark, save for a trickle of moonlight from the back-door window. Hugging the wall, Rick stalked towards the room where the noises were coming from. A few steps later, he stood in front of the bathroom door. Bumps and knocks were coming from the other side.

Rick cocked his head and took a deep breath. Slowly turning the handle with one hand, he had the pistol raised in the other. Throwing open the bathroom door, the man that used to be Spencer Monroe lunched out at Rick, his eyes glazed over and teeth gnashing at Rick’s neck.

“Shit!” Rick cried out, Spencer’s corpse pushed all its weight into Rick’s body, causing him to crash into the wall behind him. He managed to free the arm that was responsible for the colt and drive the barrel into the walker’s temple. Pulling the trigger, the shot rang out causing the sound to bounce down the hallway and the body dropped to the floor.

“Rick!” he could hear a voice shout from a distance. The ringing in his ears was near deafening. Looking down he saw Spencer lying in a pool of blood forming where Rick shot him. Getting up on one knee, Michonne and Sasha were quickly by Rick’s side. Michonne’s hands all over his chest and neck checking to be sure he wasn't bitten.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he cooed, gently caressing her hands to try and calm her.

“Is that Spencer?” Michonne asked, disbelief plastered across her face.

“Yeah,” Rick answered steadying himself against the wall. “Guess we have our answer as to who was helpin’ him,” he bent down and moved the collar of Spencer’s shirt to get a closer look. Dark red lines were crisscrossed around his neck, and when Rick pulled his shirt down further, the thin piece of rope used to strangle him was still entangled around his throat.

“What now?” Sasha asked, her usual calm demeanor now shaky.

“Canvas the community, let’s make sure he’s not hiding somewhere. At dawn, we go hunt the asshole down.” Rick said, casting one last look of disgust down at Spencer’s lifeless body.

Daryl strolled into the courtyard of The Kingdom well past breakfast. Glenn was sitting on one of the stone walls watching the Kingdomers going back to their training exercises as Daryl sidled up to him.

“Hey man,” Daryl clapped him on the back of his shoulders, “you seen the girls around?”

“They’re with the kids in the garden with Ezekiel I think,” Glenn looked up at the archer and winced. “You alright? Lookin’ a little rough today.”

“Guess that wine went to my head more than I thought. I ain’t slept this late since Merle and I used to stay up partying all night. I’m too old for this shit,” Daryl pulled out his zippo and lit a smoke while looking around the community. “Any sign of Paul yet?”

“No, not yet. Ezekiel said he’s usually here by mid-day, so should be any time now,” Glenn studied Daryl’s face, gauging if he was in a good mood. “Hey, so I gotta ask ya… Last night with Morgan. You gonna be able to let all that go?”

Daryl squared up his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Why?”

“Because, if there is a problem, and this whole situation needs to be revisited, are you going to be able to work with him?”

Daryl took a drag from his smoke and looked off into the distance. When he met Glenn’s face, he narrowed his eyes. “What if it had been Maggie? Hmm? Morgan’s choice to not shoot Negan when he coulda, resulted in your wife with a gun to her head. How’d you feel then? Could you let it go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Glenn responded. “Look man, I just know that sometimes you got to let shit go. If Negan’s the problem, and this blows up… Morgan and The Kingdom, we’re gonna have to work with them, both.”

Before Daryl could respond Maggie rounded the corner and joined them near the gate.

“Where’s your friend?” Daryl asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“She’s still in the gardens with Ezekiel and Morgan. Kids went with Lana to the stables,” Maggie said, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

Glenn saw Daryl’s body tense at the mention of Morgan’s name.

“She’s with Morgan?” he growled.

“Mmhmm, they’re down to the left and then make a right. Just beyond that brick wall,” Maggie pointed. Without another word Daryl stormed off in the direction she pointed.

“What was that?” She asked draping an arm on Glenn’s shoulders.

“Just Daryl being Daryl,” Glenn said, kissing his wife on her cheek before giving her a squeeze.

The gardens were luscious and ripe with a wide variety of fruit and vegetables that were overflowing from the branches. You listened intently as Ezekiel told you more about the early days of the Kingdom, while Morgan hovered on the fringe of the conversation.

You saw Daryl approaching and started to smile until you saw his telltale signs of being pissed.

“Hey, there you are,” he said to you while throwing a glance at Morgan standing just beyond where you were. “Mornin’,” he nodded to Ezekiel, and then Morgan, albeit reluctantly.

“Morning Daryl,” Ezekiel smiled and turned to Morgan. “We should get going, he’ll be here soon.” Morgan nodded and left without saying anything. “Please, do excuse us. Jesus will be arriving and we are to meet him at the crossroads.”

“Should we go too?” Daryl asked.

“No, we’ll return soon. Stay and enjoy the garden and some quiet time with your misses,” Ezekiel placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a little wink as he made his leave of you.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” you teased Daryl, “you feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah, all that wine went to my head. Knocked me out.”

“Are you sure that it was the wine that wore you out?” You teased again, but when you saw he wasn’t reciprocating you started to worry. “Hey, what’s up with you?”

“What the hell you doin’ with Morgan… and where the hell are the kids?”

You raised an eye brow at him and took a step back. “Wow, I see someone woke up on the dickhead side of the bed this mornin’... Um, I wanted to speak with Ezekiel and Morgan was there. As for the kids, they are at the stables with Lana…”

“Why didn’t you take ‘em. You shoulda took ‘em instead of bein’ here with Morgan.”

“Ah, I see what this is about now. Jesus Christ Daryl, you need to let this shit go.” You crossed your arms over your chest and started walking through the garden.

“Not like I ain’t got no reason to trust him,” Daryl said as he followed you through the plants. “You almost died ‘cause of him Y/N. ‘Cause he was too chicken shit to shoot that asshole, Negan got a gun, got a hold of you and nearly killed ya.”

“But he DIDN’T. I am here. Daryl... I’m alive. Let this go baby, please. It was five years ago, and he’s changed. Please, I am begging you to let this go, for me.”

Daryl emitted a guttural reaction, and for the first time that day reached out to pull you into his arms, but you took a step back, not letting him touch you.

He sighed deeply. “Oh, and who the fuck is Lana?”

“Well, if you weren’t being asshole, I coulda told you that Lana used to breed horses on her farm before the outbreak. Right now, she’s showin’ the kids how to brush and feed them, clean their shoes, you know… the stuff they came here to learn.”

“We brought them to learn how to kill…”

“No! I’m talkin’ now…” you put up a palm to stop him and could see the frustration starting to burn in his eyes because it reflected your own. “We brought them here as part of a lesson in survival, Daryl. Do you think that shootin’ guns and stabbin’ walkers is all they need to know?”

When your husband didn’t say anything, you took that as a cue to continue.

“They are the next generation, the ones we are fightin’ for, right? The ones that’ll inherit all this,” you said, motioning to the area around you. “They need to know how to grow quality food, raise livestock, care for horses… THAT’S also survival Daryl. You can teach ‘em how to hunt and track, I can teach them how to read and write. Maggie and Carol can teach ‘em how to care for others, and just generally be bad ass… Glenn, Rick, Sasha… they can teach them too shoot and how to lead... But here, they can learn all the other stuff we can’t teach ‘em.”

Daryl glared at you from beneath the fringes of his hair, blue eyes burning with a mix of emotions you couldn’t read. Chewing on his lip, he crossed his arms and seemed to be able to cool down the fire in his gaze.

“Alright,” he shrugged, arms still crossed. He was pissed, but he was calming. You, however, were not.

“Alright, what? Alright… you’ll stop being a dick to Morgan? Alright that its okay for me to send our children off with someone who can teach them something?”

“Y/N,” Daryl started but you stopped him again.

“No, I am pissed at you Dixon, you’re not gonna cute your way outta this one.” Shaking your head, you continued to walk deeper into the gardens. You heard him sigh behind you, his heavy boot steps following yours as you wound through the paths of succulent fruits.

“Y/N… babe… please, just stop,” he’d caught up to you and left a hand on your shoulder. Daryl turned you to face him, his face completely void of any anger or frustration. His gaze softer and a small smile played on his lips. “I’m sorry, ok? I know I can be a dick. When it comes to you I get a little possessive. Not like I can help it. But, I promise, to stop being so hard on Morgan. I promise to let it go.”

Taking a deep breath, you smiled sweetly at your husband. “I accept your apology, but I am still pissed.”

Daryl looked confused, and even though you could feel any anger leaving your body, you couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make him pay a little.

“I am pissed because this is the first time seeing you today, and you go act like some macho asshole, getting me angry before I even have a chance to kiss you good mornin’. It ain’t right,” you shrugged and started to walk away from him.

Grabbing you by your waist, Daryl spun you around and embraced you tightly so you could move away from him.

“I guess it’s my turn to make apologies now, huh?”

“Mmhmm, you’re damn straight,” you kept your face as serious as possible, but all it took was Daryl to lightly bit at his lower lip and your resolve shattered. Pulling his face to yours, you kissed him deeply. You allowed him to nearly swallow you with his mouth, and as it always was with Daryl, you felt that ache begin between your thighs and his own need hardening beneath his pants.

Putting your hands on his chest, you pushed him back from you, “Easy cowboy, we have company comin’. You’re just gonna have to offer these apologies up later baby. Sorry,” you winked as you pulled out of his arms completely.

Daryl growled and wrapped an arm around your neck, “You’re evil.”

“Well, we are gonna go see Jesus, maybe he can save my soul,” you said, raising a playful brow at him.

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Jesus… what kinda name is that anyway? I mean, the man does have a real name.”

You wrapped your arm around Daryl’s waist as the two of you started towards the gates. “Have you not seen him? Baby… he looks like Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, I get it… still dumb.”

“That’s just cause you got a ‘lil crush on him and his ninja skills,” you teased and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer to you. “

Daryl stopped and shook his head at you. “Woman, I swear, by the end of this day, we’re gonna see who owes who some apologies.”

“Oh, Daryl… promises, promises.”

Ezekiel, Morgan, Glenn, Maggie, and Jesus were all still exchanging welcomes and pleasantries when you and Daryl arrived hand in hand at the gates.

A smile spread across Paul’s face as he spotted the two of you. Releasing Maggie from his embrace, he went to you first and embraced you heartily and giving you a little squeeze in the process.

Turning to Daryl he stretched out a gloved hand and gripped Daryl’s, giving it a firm shake.

“Despite the circumstances, it’s so good to see you all,” Paul said, his bright blue eyes sparkling with warmth.

“I assume you’ve been caught up then?” you ask, hoping that Ezekiel and Morgan filled him up while heading back.

“For the most part, but I would love for us to go somewhere quiet to talk. I want to hear exactly what you remember happening from you, Maggie and Glenn.”

“Let us head into my chambers. I would rather this conversation stay within walls I can control,” Ezekiel declared and directed the group towards his study.

Once in the privacy of Ezekiel’s room, you recounted your tail of the day the walkers breached the walls. Paul listened with an attentive ear, occasionally throwing a look at Daryl or Glenn as you and Maggie relived the afternoon.

Paul sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his face, down his beard. “Well, I am fairly certain, we have a problem then. I was really hoping it was exclusive to The Hilltop, but I can see now with what you’ve told me, there is something bigger happening.”

“Yeah, Negan,” Daryl huffed and headed towards the opening to the balcony. He lit a cigarette and shambled out towards the fresh air.

“He’s just nervous,” you said trying to blow off his still surly demeanor. Paul caught the look of worry on your face and reached over to squeeze your hand.

“We all are hun,” he smiled at you sweetly and you felt your nerves settle a little. Paul’s calm demeanor was a welcome change to Daryl’s and acknowledging that made you feel slightly guilty. You knew Daryl just wanted to protect you, but his constantly changing mood was starting to make you feel frazzled.

Glenn sighed and sat back in his chair, grasping Maggie’s hand in his. “Jesus, what is happening at The Hilltop? Is Gregory still in charge? I mean, the last time we saw him, he wasn’t exactly friendly.”

“He is, for now. But the people are not happy with him and he’s not happy with them. You know Gregory, he thinks it should be his way and his way only. He doesn’t like the trade rules the three communities have established. Not to mention…”

Paul stopped and looked across the faces around the table. Hearing Daryl’s footsteps, he turned and threw a glance towards him before continuing.

“He’s been disappearing lately. Kal, you know him, right?” he paused as you all nodded, “him too… I don’t know where they go, but at least twice a week they’ve been going out beyond the gates. Just gives me a bad feeling.”

“Rick’s going to want to hear this,” Glenn said, running a hand through his hair.

“Indeed,” Ezekiel spoke up and carefully looked around the table. “I propose we head out straight away for Alexandria. Let us speak with the Sheriff and his queen, then to the prisoner himself. We shall get to the bottom of this one way or another.”

After the meeting was over, Maggie and Glenn returned to their room to pack and Ezekiel and Morgan left to make arrangements for the journey back to Alexandria.

You watched them all leave but never moved from your seat. Paul hung back as well and once again took your hand in his.

“You ok?” He asked, his bright blue eyes smiling at you despite the heaviness of the situation.

“No, not really,” you said quietly and dared a glance out towards the balcony where Daryl remained. “I’m just worried. Mostly about him… he’s not handling this like he normally would.”

“Y/N, I’ve known you all a long time now. Daryl is strong and capable, but he has a weakness, sweetheart. Men who have a weakness cannot always be held accountable for their behavior. Unfortunately for him, you’re his weakness and there’s no riding himself of it. That’s a lot for a man to carry on his shoulders.”

You snorted a laugh but knew he was right. “He’s going to hate me, Paul,” the smile faded from your lips and you could feel your gut turning at the thought of the conversation you still needed to have with Daryl.

“Oh please, that man couldn’t hate you even if he tried. He’s so in love with you, it’s ridiculous,” Paul’s eyes drifted out to the balcony, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, we would all kill for what the two of you have.”

“Well, after he hears what I want, he may be the one to kill me.”

“What is it that you want hun?” Paul’s grasp of your hand tightened.

“To stay here at The Kingdom while you all go back to Alexandria.”

Paul’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh,” he said almost breathlessly. “Well, that may a harder conversation than I thought.”

“What’s that?” Daryl asked as he entered the room, only having heard Paul’s comment.

You and Paul exchanged a worried glance as you stood from your respective chairs.

“I’m going to let you talk,” Paul smiled at you and went to leave the room. Stopping next to Daryl, he placed a hand on your husband’s broad shoulder and squeezed.

“Be kind, okay? Just hear her out.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked back and forth between you and Paul. Offering you one last smile of support, he left the room to catch up with Ezekiel.

“What the hell’s he talkin’ about?” Daryl asked, the earlier frustration rising in him again.

“Baby, we need to talk about what happens next…”

Before you could continue, Lana entered the room followed by Abe and Shelby who both barreled into you and Daryl as they ran through the doorway.

“Mama! The horses were so cool! Miss Lana let me and Abey ride!” Shelby exclaimed, her big blue eyes shining like diamonds as she recounted her afternoon.

“Me too,” Abe said grinning up at Daryl.

Bending down, he picked up his son and studied his face carefully. Looking at the joy written all over their faces, you could see his chest rise and fall with several deep breaths. As the children continued to prattle on about the horses, Daryl seemed to come to a realization and nodded to you.

“You wanna stay here with them, right? That’s what you wanna talk about?”

Relief washed over you. You sat back down in the chair and slowly exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Yes Daryl, I do.”

“I hate it Y/N,” Daryl sat down where Paul had been sitting, Abe positioned on his lap and Shelby on yours. Daryl took your hand and looked between the three of you. “Y’all are my world,” his voice cracked, nearly breaking your heart. You knew this would be hard, but you also knew it was for the best. “I know its right, but don’t make it easy.”

“I know baby,” your free hand found his. Bringing it to your lips, you kissed his fingers gently.

“Ew! Mama kissed daddy!” Shelby squealed and jumped out of your lap.

Both you and Daryl chuckled. Abe quickly followed his sister as they began to run circles around Ezekiel’s grand table.

Daryl pulled your chair closer to his and leaned his forehead to yours. “The idea of not wakin’ up to you makes me crazy. But it won’t be for long, right?”

“It can’t be, Daryl. I would go crazy being away from you too long. Just go home, deal with this and then come back,” you got up from your seat and slipped into his lap. Nestling your head into his neck, you drew in a deep breath of his scent and relished in the way it made you feel.

His arms wrapped around your torso and as his mouth found yours, your lips parted allowing him to have you, but he didn’t take advantage this time. Instead, his lips lingered sweetly on yours just long enough for Shelby to squeal again and making you both laugh.

“You got this, Dixon,” you whispered to him, pulling away from his kiss.

“Yeah, I do. So do you, Dixon,” he replied mockingly. “Just a few days, right?”

“Yeah baby, just a few days.”

Sitting in the master suite of The Kingdom, you relished in the love your little family gave you and knew that no matter what happened, both you and Daryl would do everything necessary to make sure you were safe again together soon.

The moonlight offered enough of a view of the small map, for him to know he’d arrived at his destination. Spencer hadn’t failed to deliver the items he needed for his journey, but Negan had certainly failed Spencer.

Grinning, Negan approached the back of the high wall as his mind flashed back to the feeling of wrapping the rope around the idiot’s neck and the satisfying crush of his windpipe. Stretching out his arms to the side, and drawing in a deep breath, the former leader of the Saviors then raised his hands to the moon and resisted the urge to howl.

Spencer had been visiting him for only about a year, but Negan had quickly grown tired of the man’s whining. He constantly asked himself how Rick had not yet killed the ‘fucking shit stain’ but somehow resisted the urge to ask him straight out.

Negan knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth though when Spencer finally admitted his hatred for Rick. He knew that Spencer, somehow, could be his ticket out of the cell and on his way back to the top of the food chain.

Sure, he’d promised to take Spencer to The Hilltop with him; that had been the plan. Negan had a small window to arrive at his new home, and it was all a matter of timing. Spencer and his prattling on had nearly fucked that all up. So, instead of taking him to meet up with Gregory, Negan discarded the stain in the prison bathroom before heading on to begin phase two of his plan.

The crisp night air felt like bliss on his skin. All he needed now was a hot meal, a warm bed and a curvy body to share it with him. The thought of having all that within his grasp caused an ache in his groin made and a guttural reaction from deep within.

From the shadows, Negan saw Gregory step out, his hands turning with anxiety in each other as he came face to face with his old enemy.

“Ne- Negan,” Gregory nodded hesitantly and looked behind him for Spencer. “Where… uh… where’s the boy?”

“Boy?” Negan chuckled, “Oh, that boy. He’s dead. Slipped and fell in the bathroom I hear. Such a fucking shame, huh?”

Gregory swallowed hard and wanted to wretch when the sick feeling rose in his throat. “Terrible,” he muttered, his hand absently tugging at his collar.

“So, are you going to show me to my new home, or…. Do you wanna sit out here under the moonlight and remind me of what it means to be a fucking man?! Cause, no offense buddy, you really aren’t my fucking type. I was hopin’ for someone with more…” Negan dramatically made curves of a woman with his hands while licking his lips.

“Uh, follow me. Your quarters are all ready,” Gregory responded nervously and stepped quickly towards the back passage into The Hilltop.

“And, where is our Lord and fucking savior this evening? Has he fled the grounds yet to help all those poor fucking souls in need?” Negan inquired, casually sauntering behind Gregory and watching the man like a hawk.

“Yes, Jesus has left for The Kingdom as planned. I imagine they are all there now trying to sort it out.”

“Oh, I imagine that they fucking are, Gregory,” Negan purred to himself, a feeling of satisfaction settling into his core. “I imagine they are.”

Tags: @kazosa @soythedemonqueen @onlydarylnormanfic @jodiereedus22 @his-paradox @zombeeemomeee @tiquismiquis @sorenmarie87 @redm81 @rhyatt-deauxtreve @kingdixonreedus @reedusteinrambles @aquivercactus @buckyscrystalqueen @see-you-then-winchester @hyphymanatee @adixon13 @rawr-bitchess @kgbrenner@fictionaldemon @thewalkingbucky @bikerdaryldixon @lefthologramdeer

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fan fiction #the walking dead fan fiction #twd fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #the new world series

64 notes · View notes

writingwithadinosaur · 7 years

Text

“Fireproof” - Epilogue Pt. 1

( Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 )

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,548

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Feels(?). If I missed anything, please let me know

Summary: After a genetic mutation showed itself about 5 years ago, you became a Kingsman and worked alongside some of the best agents: Your father, Merlin, Roxy, and Eggsy. When you are assigned a mission with Eggsy, things flare up.

Author’s Note: I was writing out the epilogue earlier and realized that with where I wanted it to go and how long I tend to write, it was either going to be a very long epilogue, or I make it into 2 parts. A 2 part epilogue? Is that even a thing? IT IS NOW!

Forever thankful for @the-witching-hours12-3 for beta reading and being a friend! <3

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

It had been 8 months at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. While you didn’t really fit the “youngsters” part of the title, Charles had made an exception for you. He’d seen how badly you wanted, and needed his help; you had so much potential. Charles made it a personal goal of his to get you to an X-Men level of control. This being said, he was not forcing you to be a part of the team. He knew very well that it was your choice if you wanted to or not.

The past 8 months had been a mixture of some of the best things to happen in your life and the saddest moments so far. As much as you appreciated how much Charles had taught and trained you, you couldn’t help but be homesick. You missed your father, Roxy, and Eggsy like hell.

Visitation wasn’t easy at the school. Charles had to be aware of it and then there were all these security protocols that had to be taken care of. It was a hassle, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Your father visited after your first three months, and then Eggsy and Roxy visited a month or two after that. You were able to go home for holiday, but that was only a two-week long break. Then it was right back into your world revolving around your mutation.

Even though it was a struggle to visit your family, you had strong communication across the pond. You were sure to update your father as much as you could, and video called him at least once a week to actually see him. The same went for Roxy. Eggsy was a different story. The two of you video called almost every night, unless he was on a mission or you were training late. But you never lost your love for each other.

It was one of those nights where you were extremely homesick and wanted nothing more than to either be back in London, or have a bit of London with you. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop. While taking a short break from reviewing your notes from Hank’s class on genetics, you couldn’t help but look at some pictures you’d taken with Eggsy during your holiday break.

Even though you were here for training, you enrolled in classes as well. Not as many as some of the other students, but enough to have a decent workload on top of your work with Charles. Every now and then, you needed to take a break. Those breaks were spent relaxing or looking at pictures and videos that you had saved on your computer.

You were in the middle of watching a video that Roxy had gotten of you and Eggsy walking around the park in the snow. The video ended with you and Eggsy laughing as snow fell off of a tree branch that was above the two of you. You paused the video, looking at how happy and carefree you and Eggsy were. After a minute or so of staring off into space and thinking, you were jolted back into reality by your computer jingling followed by a pop-up message:

“Eggsy Calling”

It was 5PM in your time zone, so it was close to 10 o'clock at night for him in London. You gladly answered while wiping a rogue tear away from your face.

“Hey there, babe!”

“Hey, luv! How’s the studyin’ goin’?”

“Very slow. This genetics stuff is due in a couple of days, but I thought it would distract me from thinking too much about tomorrow.” You slid your hands over your face and tried to take a deep breath.

Charles wanted you to go through a set of trials to really test how far you’d come. He wouldn’t tell you anything about what the test consisted of, which only added to your anxiety. Knowing him, it would not only be physically challenging, but also mentally strenuous; probably a mixture of both at one time.

“Hey, look at me.” You did so. “You are going to be fine. I know I haven’t been there to really see how much you’ve grown, but I already knew you were a fuckin’ badass. So I know damn well that you are not gonna let this all go tits up without a fight.”

You just laughed and nodded. It was still a wonder how he knew exactly what to say to make you feel even a bit better. You thanked him but of course he shoved it off.

“You never have to thank me for that kind of thing, (Y/N). You know that.” He winked and everything seemed normal until you saw his face slowly get more and more serious.

“Something’s not right. What’s wrong, Eggsy?”

“I uh…. I gotta go on a mission in the mornin’. Not just me, but Merlin and Rox as well.” He was watching you intently, trying to make sure you don’t get too upset.

“Oh…”

“So I won’t be able to call you before your trials. But I should be able to talk to you tomorrow night.” You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit sad about that, but you knew what being a Kingsman entailed, for everyone. So you really couldn’t complain.

“That’s fine. You got a job to do.”

“You sure you’re alright, luv?” You blinked back some tears that were beginning to sting at our eyes and nodded while taking a breath.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just please update me when you can. You know how worried I get when you go on missions, now add the fact that it's you, my best friend, and my father.”

“I know. I promise to tell you as much as I can.”

There was a buzz on his side of the line and he turned to put on his glasses and listen to whoever was giving him orders (most likely your father.) You knew what was going to happen next. He said some things quietly before taking them off and turning back to you.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I gotta go. Merlin wants us all to talk more before leaving in the morning.”

“It’s okay. I gotta finish this chapter and then go help with dinner. Rogue and I are making dinner for the team, even though I’m not technically a part of X-Men.”

“Alright. Well, I will text you in the morning when we head out. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go meet with them and then get some sleep, mister!” You said jokingly, smiles growing on both of your faces.

“Will do, luv.”

Eggsy blew a kiss to the camera and then hung up. Leaving you alone again. Well, for a few seconds that is. You were running your hands against your face and through your hair, trying to fight off tears. Then you focused some energy on rolling a flame between your fingers, helping you calm down a bit more. A series of light knocks on your door

“Come in,” you breathed out, quickly wiping your face. Charles rolled in and could immediately tell that you were struggling; he knew you played with small flames like this when you needed to calm down. You didn’t let him into your head unless it was absolutely necessary, so he couldn’t tell what exactly was going on, he just knew something was wrong.

“Rogue started working in the kitchen and asked me to fetch you. Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Just homesick and thinking too much about tomorrow. I thought I would be able to talk to everyone back home before the trials, but Eggsy just told me that they have to go on a mission. According to him, I should be able to talk to him afterwards though.”

Charles wheeled closer and put a hand on your arm, causing you to stop moving the small flame around, focusing more on him.

“I promise you that tomorrow will be fine. You are much better than you think. You’re actually very close to the standards I hold for the team. Tomorrow will confirm that, not only to the others, but for you as well. Maybe then they will see why I proposed the idea of you becoming an X-Man.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Hearing a compliment like that from someone who really knows the life of a mutant hit you harder than normal. But then you thought about being a part of this team. There was no way you could choose this over your family in Kingsman. But you were becoming a part of this family as well.

“Thank you, Charles. I just don’t know if I could. If there was any way to think of being a part of both, I would heavily consider. But my blood and heart are back in England.” You felt another tear fall down your cheek, this time from more positive feelings. You quickly wiped it with the back of your sleeve and took a breath in.

“That is perfectly understandable. It was just a thought.” He took a pause, considering something before smiling and changing topics. “Now, no more tears. We better not keep Rogue waiting more than she has been.”

Tags - @the-witching-hours12-3 @theeactress @undersoilxnddirt @juggernaut-jones @eggsyunwinftw @boundtomyfate @grippleback-galaxy @sarahp879 @breakfastatswarovski @fandomsandwriting @thomasstanleyhoelland @thebookisbtr @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

#kingsman fandom #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman fic #kingsman imagine #kingsman fanficiton #Fireproof #eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfiction #DreaREX #dreasaurusrex #writingwithadinosaur #WritingWithADino

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thefragileblackdahlia · 4 years

Text

Pilot: Part two

Summary

Blaire’s outfits 1 | 2

Warning(s): Angst, Typical Supernatural Violence, Mild Profanity

A/N: There is an error some where. It should say ‘of three years’ Not six years. My math was off by so much. It’s somewhere in there so ya.

Word Count: 6,889

NOV 1ST, 2005

GAS STATION

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Sam mumbled as he bounced his leg up and down in annoyance. He figured he should address it right now before Blaire woke up and before it went any further. Why should he care? He and Blaire aren't together anymore, and he has Jessica.

"Notice what?" Dean questioned.

The short-haired hunter tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he anticipated whatever Sam may have been talking about. He glanced at his brother with a raised brow.

Sam let out a hard sigh and nodded back to Blaire. "I told you she's off-limits." He uttered while glaring straight ahead.

Dean let out a boisterous laugh. "Dude, Bee, and I- aren't a thing." He looked into the rearview mirror to see Blaire stirring in her sleep.

She looked peaceful like she wasn't plagued with bad dreams anymore. Strands of kinky hair fell over her face just right, and the sunlight that peered through the windows maximized her beauty.

A small smile appeared on Dean's lips as he couldn't imagine a world without her. 'Off-limits' A voice in his head reminded him to stop and wiped the smile from his face.

"You're just seeing things 'cause you're jealous," Dean whispered in hopes of not waking Bee.

Sam stayed silent the rest of the ride, mildly annoyed by his brother's blatant lies.

There were obviously some underlying feelings that maybe Dean and Blaire couldn't see, but anyone on the outside could pick it apart.

Bee slammed her hand down on the backrest of the front seat, startling the two brothers. "What are you two princesses talking about?" She stretched her arms and legs and gave their shoulders a light pat.

"Mornin' Sunshine. You woke up right on time- The gas station is a mile away. We're gonna fill up and get some breakfast." Dean greeted Blaire with a big smile. He was giddy; he had his baby brother and his best friend by his side.

It was just like old times- maybe some things were different, but it all came down to semantics.

"Wow, thanks for the rundown- Huggy bear." Blaire quipped as she carded her fingers through her thick curls and yanked off the hair tie. Her scalp ached from being in the tight pony-tail all night, and it needed to breathe. She shook her digits through her mop of hair and finger, parted it to the left side.

The gas station came into view, ultimately saving Sam from this awkward interaction. When did they start giving each other nicknames? How much has happened since he left for Stanford? It didn't make sense to him. He looked out the passenger side window as the car pulled into the gas station lot.

Dean drove the car in a complete circle so he could get aligned with the gas pump. He then shifted into reverse and reached over the back seat, turning his whole body to reverse into the spot.

Faint music could be heard over the store's loudspeaker, Allman Brothers' 'Ramblin' Man.'

"GOTTA PEE!" Blaire shouted as she quickly tapped the seat and gazed at Dean, who has yet to unlock the car.

The woman danced in her seat while she struggled to slide on her boots. Once she got them on her feet, Bee swung the door open and sprinted into the store.

Sam just let out a small chuckle and shook his head. A wave of nostalgia hit him as he watched her run into the store.

It felt like it was just yesterday that John was driving the Impala, Dean shotgun, and the other two in the back. Once in a while, Bobby would let Blaire go on a hunt with them, but he always preferred Bee working alone with him.

Sam let out a heavy sigh and just decided to rummage through Dean's music collection.

Amid the action, Dean had started filling Baby up with gas and managed to go into the store and buy a bunch of junk food. He appeared with a bunch of chocolate candy plus an energy drink for Blaire in one hand and Doritos with soda and gum in the other.

Dean's idea of breakfast was skewed.

"Hey!" Dean called out, prompting Sam to lean out his open door and look at him. "You want breakfast?" He wiggled the bag of chips in his arms.

Sam grimaced and shook his head. "No, thanks" He resumed rifling through the box of cassette tapes. "So, how'd you pay for that stuff?" The scholar inquired but continued. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?" Sam held a condescending tone in his voice.

Just then, Blaire came walking around the corner with a disgusted expression. While she was in the bathroom, a wave of nausea hit her hard. Then suddenly, voices came in from many different directions, and it made her sick to her stomach. One voice was so loud; it sounded so much like the mechanic working just outside.

'God, she's such a pretty girl.' This comment made her eyes widen. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING? First, she started having bad dreams, and now she hears voices? It can only go downhill from here.

Bee rounded the corner, Dean was standing by the pump with her snacks.

"This was the only energy drink they had, so- mazel tov!" Dean tossed her the drink, which she gracefully caught. Blaire only nodded and strolled over to the free pump by Sam's door. She leaned against the machine and cracked open her drink, taking a long sip.

The sun beamed down on her smooth skin, casting an ethereal glow.

Dean grasped the gas nozzle and tapped the sides as he spoke. "And, Hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career-" The man paused as he turned to put the nozzle away.

"Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." Dean gathered the junk food off of the trunk of the car and made his way to his side of the vehicle.

"Yeah?" Sam scoffed. "And what names did you write on the application this time?" He pulled his legs into the car and closed his door, still examining the box of tapes.

Blaire still stood against the pump, staring off into the distance at the mechanic. The boys couldn't tell, but she was trying to read his mind. She sipped her energy drink and glared daggers into the old pervert. Occasionally, she would catch him peeking under his hat at her. She didn't snap out of it until Sam closed his door. '

When did Dean finish pumping?' She thought.

"Uh, Burt Aframian-" Dean answered as he opened his door and then climbed into the impala. "And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal." Dean paused and leaned over into Sam's space. "Hey- Bumble Bee, the hell you doin'- get in."

Blaire furrowed her brows and got into the backseat. "Sorry- That dude was checkin' me out." She closed her respective door.

"Maybe he can't resist the gloss." Dean mocked as he moved his hand over his face in a circular motion. He donned a dorky grin as he raised his brows at his silly joke.

Sam finally spoke, "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." He roughly placed down a tape into the box and motioned with his hands as he talked.

"Why?" Dean asked, genuinely interested in hearing his reason.

Sam picked up a tape, "Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" He held up a tape for every band he named. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean immediately snatched the Metallica tape from Sam as he continued talking. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock." Sammy laughed.

This particular conversation intrigued Blaire. She leaned forward and rested her arms on the seat.

"House rules, Sammy." The oldest cooed while he slid the tape into the player. "Driver picks the music," Dean started but looked at Blaire expectantly.

The 22-year-old woman snatched the empty case from Dean and finished for him. "Shotgun shuts his cakehole." She tossed the case into the cardboard box with the other tapes.

Just then, Dean started the engine, and Loveless' 'A Gift to the World' began to play on the console.

Sam turned his head to look at his former best friend. "You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?"

This request just made Bee burst into laughter. She lunged forward and turned up the volume, the guitar now blasting through the car speakers. "Sorry," She gestured to her ears and shrugged. "I can't hear you, the music's too loud."

Dean just kept his eyes on the rearview mirror as Blaire interacted with Sam. It was like watching a mirror image, except it was female and African American. He set one hand on the wheel, shifted gears and pulled out of the lot and onto the highway.

The huntress reclined back and sipped her drink. And when the vocals came in, Blaire sang along with Dean tapping his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel.

Sam watched from the side view mirror. They were so much alike yet so different. Both were great trackers, hunters; they loved to eat and struggled with emotional situations. They were also sensitive about the mom subject and were loyal to their fathers. The only difference was, Blaire was a black woman.

'Huh,' He said to himself.

"I'll call to see if they got anyone matching John," Blaire affirmed while leaning forward. She whipped out her pink Razr phone and began dialing a number.

Dean kindly lowered the music.

The clever huntress cleared her throat and put on her best Welsh (British) accent. "Hello? Yes- I was calling to ask about a John Doe that may have came in anytime in the past three weeks."

This immediate change in accent made Sam glance at his brother, who just gave him a knowing smile. That accent got Dean a lot of things, and it and she quote 'made him all tingly.'

"Uh...who's calling? Felicity Shagwell-" She murmured into the phone. Dean's head snapped in her direction, a sly smile on his face as he picked up on the reference. Blaire hit him on the shoulder and pointed to the sign they had just passed labeled Jericho 7.

(Reference to Felicity Shagwell in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me)

"Yes! It would be male, salt and pepper hair looks to be in his mid to late 50s."

"Well, alright, thank you so much." Blaire immediately snapped her phone shut and gripped the device tightly. "There's no one matchin' John at the hospital or morgue. So, I guess that's somethin'" She now had her natural southern accent.

As the impala drove around the bend, they were met with two police cars and several officers spread out on the bridge ahead.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY

"Check it out." Dean nudged the two and pointed over the scene. He pulled onto the side of the road, and Dean killed the engine.

The three stared intently at the police cars. It was like a lightbulb went off in Dean's mind as he stretched for the glove department and pulled out a box with many fake IDS. There were a few with Blaire's face as well as Dean and John's.

Dean plucked two badges and handed one to Bee.

"All right, Let's go Mr. Powers."The African woman laughed and got out of the impala. She strutted up to the fellow black officer and listened in on their conversation.

Dean and Sam were close behind her listening as well.

"Fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Bee asked.

The southern accent made the deputy spin around and straightened once he saw the trio. "And who are you?"

Dean stepped around Blaire and subtly patted her thigh, signaling her to lift hers. They raised their badges simultaneously as Dean spoke for them. "Federal marshals."

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" The deputy queried.

Dean laughed. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." The surly hunter strolled over to the abandoned car. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." Deputy Jaffe responded.

Sam interjected. "So, this victim, you knew him?"

Jaffe nodded. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

While the men were talking, Blaire circled the car, checking the interior and exterior. Dean soon joined her, "See anything?" He whispered.

The huntress shook her head."No, as far as I can tell, it just looks like the lord snatched him and left no trace."

Dean nodded and spoke loud enough for the deputy to hear. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?"

"No. Not so far as we can tell." Jaffee replied.

Blaire shuffled beside Dean by the trunk of the car. "So, what's the theory?"

"Honestly," Jaffe paused. "We don't know. Serial murder, kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean derided.

Blaire kicked Dean in the shin as subtle as she could and looked at Sam with a nervous smile. She wound her arm around Dean's and tugged, a signal that it was time to go now.

Sam picked up on her uneasiness and the deputy's growing suspicions. "Thank you for your time. Gentlemen." The tall hunter hurriedly made his way back to the impala.

Bee and Dean were close behind.

Dean slapped the back of Blaire's head. "Ow! You prick- What was that for?" She cried.

"Why'd you have to kick me?" Dean quipped.

Sam gave Dean a disapproving glare. "Why do you have to talk to the police like that?"

This prompts Dean to move in front of Sam and halt their retreat to the car. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

Blaire cleared her throat, warning Dean not to speak any further. She carefully peered over the man's shoulder, showing him that there was someone behind him, listening.

Dean turned around to find the Sheriff and two FBI agents. Now they really did it.

"Can I help you, boys?" The Sheriff uttered, completely ignoring Blaire's presence. So she put it together that either he was sexist or racist. She preferred the former.

"No, sir, we were just leaving," Dean affirmed.

When the FBI agents saw there was no issue, they started for the crime scene.

Dean felt as though he had to get one last quip in before they leave. "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." He acknowledged the agents.

"Shut up, Stupid." Blaire drawled while grabbing the boys and scurrying out of there before there were any more questions raised.

Once they were out of earshot, Bee tore Dean a new one. "You have gotta stop challengin' authority, Dean. Next thing you know, we're gonna be on TOP 3 most wanted."

"Hey, it'd be an honor to get number one." Dean laughed as they all climbed into Baby and pulled off.

From the slither of information, the trio decided it was best to question Amy.

STREET

HIGHLAND MOVIE THEATER

"Pullover here." Blaire pointed to the movie theater, which had a young brunette woman pinning papers to the wall. Bee hung her head outside the window to get a good look at the flyers in her hands as Dean pulled over and parked the car. It read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE.'

"That's her." She affirmed.

The triad of hunters exited the car in a uniformed fashion and approached who they assumed to be Amy.

Blaire reached her first, "You must be Amy." The southern belle flashed the woman a charming smile as she leaned against the wall post where Amy was taping the last paper.

"Yeah?" Amy murmured while glancing at the dark-skinned woman and the two men behind her.

"Uh, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles." Dean took his place next to Blaire and gestured between the three as he introduced them. "I'm Dean. That is Sammy, and this is Blaire..." His words died off as he remembered that Bee was a black woman.

"And this is Blaire- his aunt- my wife- She's my wife- his aunt. Yes." The 26-year-old stumbled over his words.

"It's almost like he forgets that we're married," Blaire muttered with her head tilted to the side. Sam furrowed his brows but had no words to say.

Dean just smiled at Blaire, who was currently glaring daggers into his face. He looked back to Amy, who was indifferent to the exchange.

"He never mentioned you to me..." Amy turned as she spoke, digging in her handbag for more flyers.

There couldn't have been more tension between the three of them. It used to be Sam that introduced Blaire as his wife, but now Dean was doing it?

Blaire just returned Dean's pseudo-loving smile while she spoke. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much. We're up in Modesto." She then fixed her gaze on Amy, who was walking away.

Sam decided to butt in; he walked around Dean and Bee to stand in front of Amy and prevent her from walking further. "So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around."

Just then, another young woman scurried behind the trio and placed a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah."

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam questioned.

"Maybe we could go to a diner?" Blaire added with a sweet smile.

"Sure thing." Amy murmured and stuffed the flyer back into her purse.

The five of them headed over to the diner close by.

DINER

Blaire was sandwiched between the brothers with Dean on the outside and Sam on the inside. Dean had his arm resting across the back of the booth.

"Ya, can I get a bacon 'n egg sandwich- oh! and a cup of coffee." Blaire snapped the menu shut and handed it to the waitress. "Make the coffee black. I like it bitter" The Nubian woman appended.

The waitress nodded and started to walk away, but Bee leaned over Dean to wave the waitress down. "Hold on!"

In the midst of stretching over Dean, her tank top shirt rode up her back, exposing the natural curve of her back as well as her pistol.

"Yes, Ma'am?" The waitress asked from the counter.

Dean reclined back to distance himself from the girl but didn't take his eyes away from the exposed skin and gun. He shifted in his seat as a sheepish smile danced across his face. To be honest, seeing her pistol tucked in her jeans aroused him just a bit but not enough where it was noticeable.

Blaire stayed in her provocative position, unaware of the eyes on her. "Just coffee for the boys and Pepsi-cola for the girls- oh and a slice of pie!" Bee affirmed with a bright smile. "Thanks a million" She sat back down in her seat.

Dean looked up sheepishly at Sam, who was also guilty of ogling at the dark-skinned woman. Amy and Rachel just stared at Blaire in awe. She radiated dominance.

Eventually, the food and drinks came out, and everybody took their respective items. Blaire started chowing down on her food and pointed her fork at Amy. "My bad sweetheart, the drive was long- So tell us what happened."

Bee chewed on her bacon and pushed the slice of pie over to Dean, who just smiled. He picked up his fork and started digging into it.

Amy played with the frayed ends of her sweater. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving him. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did."

Sam shifted in his seat. "He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary?" He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his cup and then lifted it to his lips.

"No. Nothing I can remember." Amy sighed.

Dean held up his fork and finished the last bits of pie in his mouth. He leaned forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared- something's not right. So if you've heard anything..."

While Dean was talking, Blaire snuck a few pieces of his pie, jamming the fork into her mouth and snickering. The male hunter just smacked her hand away, but Sam gazed at her with great attention. Blaire's giddy smile; he missed that. She used to smile at him like that; he furrowed his brows and just decided to focus on questioning the girls.

"So, have you heard anything?" Sam questioned

Amy and Rachel exchanged looks which grabbed Blaire's attention. "What?" She inquired.

"Well, it's just...I mean- with all these guys going missing, people talk." Rachel answered.

The triad of hunters spoke in unison. "What do they talk about?" Dean plucked a piece of bacon off of Bee's plate.

This question made Rachel shift in her seat. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." The teenager paused and inhaled sharply.

During the pause, Dean looked over at Sam with an 'I told you so' expression.

Rachel resumed, "Well, supposedly she's still out there- She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other in unison then down at Bee, who was casually drinking her coffee and nodding.

"Thanks for the info. You both are so kind." The African woman cooed as she finished the last bits of her food.

"Ready, hungry hippo?" Dean teased Blaire, who just roughly pushed him out of the booth and stepped out herself. She dug into her back pocket and gracefully placed the money on the table. The young woman of color strutted out of the diner.

Amy and Rachel both stood from the booth and glanced at Dean with small smiles.

"Your wife is cool."

Rachel's comment earned her a sheepish smile from Dean and a grimace from Sam.

"Thanks, I know- but don't tell her that. It'll go straight to her head." Dean motioned to his head, exploding. "Anyways, Let's go, Sammy." The eldest brother patted Sam on the back and left the diner.

When he and Sam exited the restaurant, they saw a guy hitting on Bee by the impala. Their mood instantly dropped.

STREET

IMPALA

"Sweetheart, I don't think you can handle someone like me." Blaire laughed and slid her hands into her back pocket.

The man felt intrigued by mysteriousness and just placed his hands on her hips. "I'm sure it ain't hard." He whispered into her ear.

Blaire's expression changed at the unwanted contact. "Look, sir. You're sweet 'n all, but I'm not interested. You're about as sharp as a butter knife- So... how about you take your hands off the merchandise. You break, you pay." She drawled. Her eyes met Dean's, who held a heavy and cold gaze.

Dean stepped a little closer with his fist clenched tight. "Problem here?" The hunter asked Blaire, keeping eye contact with the female.

Sam was close behind Dean with a firm expression.

"No, there isn't. Mind your business." The man jeered and pressed Bee against Baby.

"That's my car and that's my-" Dean started but he was interrupted.

The sound of a gun cocking made everyone stop their movements. Being the feisty woman she was, she dug her pistol into the man's thigh, presumably where his dick was. Then she tiptoed and whispered into his ear.

"When I say, 'Hands off the merchandise,' I meant it. Now stop botherin' me before I sick my friends after you, and they don't play well with perverted assholes who force themselves on innocent women. Let alone their best friend." Bee spitfired and dug the barrel of the gun deeper into his thigh.

"Understood?" She beamed.

The oppressor raised his hands and slowly backed away as she kept her gun trained on him. He nodded and scurried off without looking back.

Sam raised his brows at her ferocity. When did she become so aggressive? Maybe he shouldn't have left. He didn't like this side of Bee.

The whole thing amused Dean. "That was awesome." He laughed.

"When did you become so aggressive?" Sam questioned with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He gazed down at his ex.

Blaire tucked her gun away and just let out a small exhale. "When you left me alone for two years. That's when. Now let's head to the library and do research." She searched through her pockets and pulled out her copy of the impala keys.

Bee walked to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. "I'm driving." She mumbled.

"I didn't leave you- You're the one that told me to go." Sam huffed as he followed behind her and slammed the door closed.

"Hey guys, please don't argue now." Dean tried to reason with them, but his plea was ignored. He dragged his hand over his face and shifted on his back foot.

Blaire had a brooding and pensive expression. The angered woman turned around with an expression Sam had never seen; It was hatred.

"I said, 'Go Sammy, and if things go wrong, don't bother coming back to me for help.' That is what I said. Now while you were gone- studying and fucking petite blonde women I almost-" Bee paused and looked away from him to Dean, who just had a somber expression.

Dean shook his head 'no.'

It was as if it was yesterday when Blaire came to Dean sobbing and a mess. He had to help build her back up; now, Sam was undoing all his hard work that took months.

"I'm driving, and You lost shotgun privileges. Dean's front." Blaire muttered, opening the car door and climbing in. She slammed the door shut and jammed the key into the ignition, starting the car.

Bee turned up the music, Metallica's 'Enter Sandman' starting.

Sam looked to Dean, who averted his eyes and climbed into the front passenger seat. The tall hunter felt like an outlier in his own family. He only left for two years, and it's like everyone changed; it was an unsettling feeling. Sam tapped the roof and just got into the car.

Blaire tapped her fingers to the beat as she pulled off into traffic. After a minute of guitar, the vocals finally came in. She sang along to the words.

"Say your prayers little one

Don't forget my son

To include everyone

I tuck you in, warm within

Keep you free from sin."

The car pulled up next to the public library.

LIBRARY

Once the car was parked, Blaire was the first one out. She marched into the library.

Dean stayed behind so he could talk to Sam.

Dean played with the car keys in his pocket and let out a heavy sigh. "Can you be a little cheerier, man? It's like you've become this stickler- don't get me wrong I'm happy for you, but- just be a little easier on Bee...please?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and said nothing; he just shook his head. Why should he be nicer when Blaire broke up with him because he wanted to follow his heart, with her. She could've gone to Stanford too, but her biological dad started young with her. Who starts training at four years old? Who does that to a kid? Sam just wanted more for her, but she claimed hunting was her true calling. She was brainwashed, clearly.

Sam entered the library with Dean close behind.

Instead of being at a computer, Blaire was sitting at a desk with a book on demonology in her hands. Maybe reading up on demons calm her down? They thought since she said they would do research that she would be busy typing away, but they guessed she needed time to herself.

Dean sat at a computer and opened a web browser. It automatically loaded to 'Jericho Herald.'

"Check the archive search page."Sam pointed.

"I know," Dean grumbled and clicked on the tab. He clicked on the search bar and began typing 'Female murder hitchhiking' and then clicked GO. There were 0 results. The 26-year old narrowed his eyes and began editing the words. He replaced 'hitchhiking' with 'Centennial Highway.' and got the same 0 results.

Sam reached for the keyboard, "Let me try."

Dean, acting like a 5-year-old, smacked Sam's hand away. "I got it."

Sam shoved Dean's rolling chair out of the way and took over the computer.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed and hit his brother in the shoulder. "You're such a control freak." He grumbled.

Not too long after Dean's outburst, Blaire slapped both her hands on each of the brothers' shoulders, whispering as she bent over. "I can't even read alone without you two barkin' at each other. This is a library. You're 'sposed to be quiet, children."

"You know, I almost mistook you for the librarian." Dean teased while scooting closer to the computer.

"Uh-huh, whatever. Find anything?" Blaire walked to Dean's left side of the chair and sat on the armrest.

"Not yet, I was just thinking- angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?" Sam quizzed.

"Yeah." Blaire and Dean spoke in unison.

"Okay, well, maybe it's not murder." Sam replied as he replaced 'murder' with 'suicide' and one article titled 'Suicide on Centennial.' Dean glanced at Sam either in awe or annoyance, maybe both.

Blaire observed but grew impatient, so she reached over Dean and clicked the article. "1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river." She read aloud.

They all stared at Constance's picture before Dean spoke up. "Does it say why she did it?"

"Yeah, An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die." Sam informed them.

"Hm." Blaire hummed.

Sam continued reading the article. " 'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband, Joseph Welch."

"That bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asked in the rhetorical sense.

"What a coincidence." Blaire murmured and hopped off of the chair.

Dean pushed himself up from the chair and reached in his pocket for the car keys, "Let's get going, it's getting dark."

Sam turned off the computer and followed close behind the other two.

They all climbed into the chevy impala, and by the time they arrived at the bride, it was dark.

SYLVANIA BRIDGE

NIGHT

The triad of hunters walked alongside the bridge; Dean was front, Blaire was middle, Sam was last. Blair traced her digits on the cold metallic railing and peered over the side at the rushing water.

"Poor Constance..." Blaire mumbled.

"So, this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean looked over the edge along with Bee.

Sam gripped the railing and glanced at Dean "So you think Dad would have been here?"

Blaire leaned over the railing, her eyes glossing over as unwanted memories resurfaced. "Take me instead..." She mumbled to herself as she dug her nails into the rusted metal.

Around rivers and large bodies of water, Blaire disassociated. It wasn't because of phobia, but more of that, she witnessed something horrible as a kid. No kid should be close enough to the water to where they get dragged in by a water wraith. Jaxon blamed himself, 'he should have seen the signs,' He thought. But that wasn't the case, at all.

She was in the veil for 5 minutes, before suddenly being yanked out. Bobby had to come and finish the job. That's where he found little Bumblebee.

Blaire shut her eyes and took deep breaths as she tried her best to fight the impending flashback. She heard Dean's gruff voice and smiled wanly.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him." Dean clarified while heading back to the car.

Sam followed Dean, pressing him for information. "Okay, so now what?"

It took all the strength Blaire had to pull away from the railing and take her place between the guys. She sensed an argument brewing.

Dean held up his arms and sighed. "Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while."

The younger sibling stopped walking and tilted his head back. He couldn't spend forever looking for John. "Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-"

Dean pivoted on his heel and laughed, "Monday. Right. The interview."

Blaire stepped off to Dean's left side, showing she sided with Dean. Her eyes followed the conversation.

"Yeah," Sam replied simply.

The huntress held up her hands and shook her head in disapproval. "Guys, not right now...Constance, remember?" Her tone was somber.

Dean glanced at Blaire with a raised brow. He completely forgot about her PTSD until he heard the sound of the rushing water. Sam still had no clue as to what happened or how her father died. For some reason Blaire felt close enough to tell Dean after many years avoiding the topic; in some ways, he felt honored, but now he just felt constricted, sad by the fact that he couldn't save her from that horrific event. Dean thought back to Sam and him leaving them.

"I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean gestured with his hands while talking. "You think you're just gonna become some lawyer?" He furrowed his brows and gazed at Bee, who was eyeing him with a morose look and clouded eyes. "Marry your girl?" Dean concluded with spite in his voice.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Maybe, Why not?"

Hearing those words broke Blaire. Imagine being with someone for six years and then hearing that he planned to marry someone he only met two years ago. To her, it felt like her heart was carved out of her chest and set on fire.

Tears pricked at her dry eyes, causing her to blink many times before a tear finally fell and ran down her left cheek, only visible to Dean.

Dean clenched his jaw and masked his anger with a laugh. "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" He jeered.

The tall hunter inched closer to Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know." There was a slight twitch in his eyes, almost as if he felt threatened by what Dean had asked.

Sam's reaction gave Bee a bad taste in her mouth. Maybe it was the anxiety or oncoming depression, or both- whichever it was; it made her want to hurl. She let out a shaky breath and began walking to the car, her wet cheeks hidden behind her curly hair.

"Well, that's healthy." Dean mocked. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, But sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to who you really are." He hummed while turning away, catching up with Blaire, who was drifting off to the left side of the bridge.

Sam was taken aback by Dean's assumption. "And who's that?" He hurriedly made his way around the two and stopped in front of them, making them halt as well. The brunette glared daggers into Dean.

"You're one of us." Dean put it simply.

"No, I'm not like you two. This is not going to be my life." Sam spat.

Dean curled and uncurled his fist, angry at the fact that Sam was acting like a complete douche. "Like us two? You have a responsibility to-"

"To our Dads? And their crusade? If it weren't for pictures, we wouldn't even know what our moms look like." Sam held disdain in his voice as he looked Dean in the eyes.

He recommenced. "And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed them, our Moms are gone...And they aren't coming back." Sam spewed.

Blaire inhaled sharply. She never liked family arguments, they were overwhelming, and you always had to pick a side. Sam was more of a bitch than he used to be. Why did he have to mention their moms? Bee had many early memories of her mother. They were faint, but it is what kept her going through challenging hunts or when she felt like she was alone.

That was the last straw that broke the camel's back. Dean grabbed Sam by his collar and shoved him up against the metal support beam.

"Don't talk about her like that." Dean dug his nails into the fabric, close to tearing into it until he heard the faint sound of Blaire's heels thudding against the concrete, followed by a small,

"Dean..."

The huntress stared ahead at the apparition of the vengeful spirit that stood on the railing. "Guys..." Blaire sniffled and slowly made her way to the woman in the white gown.

Dean released his little brother from his death grip and also advanced toward the ghost.

Constance looked over at them and boldly leaned forward off of the ledge. The trio broke out in a sprint but got to the scene too late.

"Where'd she go?" Blaire breathed as she peered over the rail.

Dean panted, "I don't know."

Just then, Baby's lights and engine turn on, prompting the three hunters to turn around. "What the-" Dean started.

"Who's driving your car?" Sam quizzed, assuming someone must've stolen the keys.

Simultaneously, Blaire and Dean held up their copy of the keys and jingled them. It was like Christine, the killer car from Stephen King's novel; Baby jerked into motion, barreling straight for them.

They all turned and began sprinting down the bridge. Ultimately the car was faster than they are, and as it got closer, Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around Blaire's waist and leaped with her off the bridge. Dean took the brunt of the fall, his back smacking hard against the water, he tightened his hold on the woman.

Sam also jumped but caught on to the edge of the bridge, saving him from the murky water. He swung his legs, creating a momentum before he hauled himself back onto the bridge. "Blaire?! Dean?!" His voice boomed.

Just below the bridge, two filthy and agitated bodies laid on the mud; Blaire still on top of Dean. "What?" Dean rasped.

"Hey! Are you guys, alright?" Sam looked over the side of the bridge, relieved.

The mud-covered woman rolled off of her best friend and held up an A-OK sign. "Super!" She laughed off the pain.

With that response, Sam also laughed and backed away from the edge. He retreated to the car and waited for the duo to arrive.

"You did not have to pull me in with you- my hair is all dirty." Blaire whined as she pushed herself off the muddy ground. "It's in every crevice!" She screamed and smacked Dean in the arm as he got up from the ground.

"Look, it was either the water or get run over. I didn't wanna see a Bee pancake, so we took a dive. I just wanted to hold on to you-" Dean paused and just put on his best fake smile. She didn't need to know the real reason. "You're so tiny, a gust of wind could knock you over." He teased while hiking up the trail.

The African woman scoffed, "Wow, How chivalrous of you." She also hiked up the hill.

Soon the two reached the car, meeting a clean and pleasant smelling, Sam.

Dean immediately went to open the hood and check the engine. He bent over and poked at a few parts, seeing everything was intact.

While Dean was checking on Baby, Sam checked on Blaire. "You okay?" He whispered.

"Yeah...thanks for asking." Blaire beamed. She was genuinely happy that Sam had actually talked to her without ill intentions. It felt nice to be cared about for a little bit. Her smile lingered. The sound of the hood shutting pulled her away from Sam's gaze.

"She alright?" Bee asked Dean while raking her fingers through her mud-caked hair.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now- That Constance chick, what a bitch!" Dean bitched at the air, pouting like a small child. Blaire giggled and leaned against Baby's right side, next to Samuel.

"Well, She doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam sighed and took a spot next to his brother on the hood. "So, where's the job go from here, genius?"

Dean's only response was him throwing his hands up in frustration and a strong pout. He flicked the mud off his hands.

Sam sniffed the air. "You guys smell like a toilet." He teased.

"Oh yeah?" Blaire challenged. "We smell like a toilet?" She snickered and brought her hands up to the male, threatening to rub the muck all over him.

Sam speedily distanced himself by running around the car. "Don't!"

When Dean joined in the fun of chasing Sammy around the car, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Eventually, the trio decided it was best to head to a motel and clean up.

PART THREE

SERIES REWRITE MASTERLIST

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