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abarbaricyalp · 5 months

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Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event! Y'all don't even know how many of these "no-power" stories I started for this prompt. Instead I hunkered down and finished one of my favorite (and oldest) WIPs (What is the life of a writer, if not creating four WIPs for every one finished?)

CW: blood and injury There is also glib discussion of limb loss by Bucky throughout.

Yeah the title is from that one poster. You know the one.

Hanging In There 🐱

Bucky Barnes was very good at free climbing. (Yes, even with the prosthetic arm, thank you very much, terrible-gym-trainer.) Mostly because he'd taken up free climbing after he was situated with the arm. It had become his ongoing PT and his proof of freedom. Once he'd gone a few months without flattening himself on the gym floor, everyone in his life (so, his sister Becca and his best friend Steve) finally left him alone when he was doing other things. So long as he could scale rock walls, he could do his own grocery shopping.

He got as much of a kick out of watching people's reactions to him climb with a prosthesis as he did from watching them finally work up the courage to tentatively ask if he lost his arm climbing. His answer changed depending on what mood he was in or the elevation he'd stopped at if he was outside. "Sure, it got caught in a rock shift. I had to cut it off with a pocket knife." "Yeah, I put my hand in a hole and got bitten by some poisonous reptile. Lost the whole thing." "Actually I fell off a cliff and ripped the whole thing off when I tried to get some purchase on the way down." He'd lost it in the line of duty overseas, but nosy people always managed to miss the dog tags around his neck.

The point was, Bucky was really good at free climbing. He'd been doing it for years now. He thought he knew his body better now than he did when he joined up with the military in the first place.

This was all his cat's fault.

No, that wasn't fair. This was all some other cat's fault. Some street cat rascal had gotten Alpine pregnant and Bucky was just trying to see who it was. Plus maybe figure out who was so irresponsible to let their cat roam. And, no. Alpine getting out to meet with this cat Casanova was not the same thing as someone being irresponsible because she slipped out the window by knocking the plastic accordion of the window AC unit out of the way. Bucky hadn't let her out. He was not an intentionally irresponsible cat dad. He was just a new cat dad. Who even knew he’d have to cat-proof window units?

He'd been watching her ever since he'd found out she was pregnant. He fully planned on following her to whatever back alley she met Tom O'Malley in. When Alpine had climbed out his window and perched on the wide railing of his balcony, he'd figured she was going to jump down the fire escape to the ground and carry on. Instead, she walked across the narrow decorative ledge of his building and he...

Well, he followed on instinct. That was the plan, right? Follow his cat to the culprit?

He could not stress how much he wasn't thinking in the moment.

The building wasn't that tall. He was on the fourth floor and the bottom floor was only a half floor. Still, Bucky wasn't imagining the wind tugging at his clothes as he crept along the narrow ledge after Alpine, who was not doing anything to wait for Bucky.

"Al," he hissed, making a small jump from the end of one apartment's ledge to the next. He knew his neighbor and hoped she wasn't home. She wasn't usually but his luck was not cooperating today. "Al, get back here. You had your fun night. I'm over this."

Bucky skirted across the neighbor's balcony and onto the next ledge. This one was a little different, wider but more broken up into pieces. More like a rock wall. The only problem was that there were no decorative pieces at hand level. And he wasn't wearing his prosthetic arm. If he missed a step or one of these bricks gave way, he was definitely falling.

Alpine gracefully jumped down a floor, using a drain pipe to launch herself sideways onto someone's balcony.

"Alpine!" Bucky called with a new wave of frustration. The balcony was close enough that Bucky could probably make the jump. It would be mostly falling anyway. He could land on the railing and stumble his way forward.

The only problem would be that he'd definitely alert whoever was in the apartment and he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk, or climb, his way out of that conversation. He crept closer to the other balcony, eyeing the drop and wishing he'd worn better shoes. He was just as liable to break an ankle as he was to miss the balcony.

Alpine pawed at the sliding door of the balcony and a black-and-white cat appeared on the other side of it, used its head to nudge the door open. Alpine and the cat rubbed heads and then disappeared into the apartment together.

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky asked the wind.

He looked down at the street below, thankful they weren't on the busy side of the building. Then again, that meant it was less likely someone would see him flatten himself and therefore less likely someone would call for help.

There were not many times in his climbing journey that he felt the need to leap from one spot to the other. Sure, the occasional shift a foot or so to a different grip hold, but not like this. He braced his feet against the ledge, testing his weight out and shifting it forward.

He leapt without thinking about it anymore than that.

When he crashed through the balcony, his brain was very confused about what happened. He'd hit something solid. He was still falling. His knee ached. His other knee was in his face. Something was soaking through his sock and shoes.

He realized his forearm was flat against the balcony and he tried to lift himself up, out of the hole he’d put in the wooden floor. But he couldn’t make his legs follow commands, couldn’t free the one stuck on the wood, being held up at an odd angle by his jeans, couldn’t swing the other one back to make momentum. Then the pain really set in, along with some panic. Bucky couldn't right himself, couldn't sit, could barely move, all of which meant he couldn't take stock of what was happening around him. His leg hurt. The pain was soaking into his brain until he couldn't think about anything else.

Then, to add insult to injury, the most beautiful man Bucky had ever seen came running out the door to the balcony and almost tripped over him. The cats followed him out. Alpine, the traitor, didn't even look concerned.

"What the hell?" his neighbor asked. Belatedly, Bucky saw the baseball bat in his hand. And, like, one that had been used in the field of play and left no comforting possibility that the man wouldn't actually use it on him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, right now, I'm just hanging out," Bucky answered without knowing where the sarcasm came from since most of his brain was focused on the terror that he was about to lose his leg too.

"Are you trying to break in?" the man asked and curled his fingers around the bat again.

"Me, rob you?" Bucky asked in disbelief. "That's my cat that you're clearly trying to steal," he argued with a nod to Alpine. "And your terrible Tom got her pregnant on top of it!"

"That's your cat?" the man asked. "Do you ever pay attention to her? She's here all the time. I posted ‘Found: Cat’ posters downstairs and didn't get a response."

"You did not!" Bucky snapped. "Can you just..." He gestured to the fact that he was continually slipping further through the hole he'd crashed through in the balcony. Or...no. He did this. He crashed a hole through someone's balcony. Could this day get any worse?

The man tossed the bat inside and the cats disappeared after the noise to investigate. He kneeled beside Bucky, holding onto his elbow and maneuvering Bucky around to peer through the hole.

"Your leg is pretty torn up," he warned. "I think it's best if I just call for an ambulance. I don't want to agitate any wounds. I have gauze but not extra blood."

It took Bucky too long to realize that was a joke. Hopefully. "Come on, man. Just help me up. I'll be fine."

"You are literally dripping blood onto the next balcony," the man insisted. And then he seemed to realize his hand was flat on Bucky's ribs and not on his left arm. He blanched and his wide eyes met Bucky's.

"Don't worry," Bucky assured. "It was missing before I jumped. It disappeared on me earlier."

To his credit, the neighbor's shock switched to vaguely irked in a single breath and without any follow up questions. He looked at Bucky's leg again and heaved out a long suffering sigh before disappearing into the apartment again.

Alpine and her paramour took the man's place in the doorway, watching Bucky with a pitying and disdainful look, respectively. "This is your fault," Bucky told Alpine. Or maybe the black and white cat. Really, it was that cat's fault.

The neighbor came back with an armful of supplies, including some really nice 2x4s that he laid across the balcony, balancing them on the unimpaired metal frame. He also had a medical kit that needed a duffle bag to be lugged around.

"Were you military?" Bucky asked.

The neighbor startled a little and his fingers passed over what Bucky could assume was an insignia patch on the other side of the bag. "Yeah, Air Force. Pararescue. Sam, by the way. You?"

"Army. Bucky," Bucky said. "Not in that order."

"Explains the whole--" Sam gestured to his left side.

"Well, if you figured that out on your own, how am I supposed to test out my new stories on you?"

Sam shook his head as he laid out a variety of supplies just inside the threshold of his apartment. "You and my partner would've gotten along. He had this scar on his face. Dog bite when he was a kid. But he made up stories all the livelong day about it."

"You get tired of the truth eventually," Bucky explained. "It's never good enough for anyone anyway."

Sam glanced over at him, brown eyes a little calculating for a moment. But he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he got his hands on Bucky's ribs again. "You need to help me here. I don't have a lot of leverage and we're gonna be fighting against the splintered boards."

Bucky nodded and braced his forearm against one of the boards Sam had brought out. Despite his concerns, Sam was just about strong enough to pull Bucky free on his own, which was both mortifying and also incredibly hot. Pieces of the balcony clattered to the one below as Bucky pulled his legs up behind him.

The pain started as soon as he was sure he was safely on the 2x4s. He hissed and reached for his knee like he could stave off the pain signals that way.

"Do you mind if I cut your jeans away?" Sam asked. "Just the legs. You can keep your modesty."

"I have no dignity left, so go for it," Bucky sighed. He leaned back against the railing of the balcony and watched Sam carefully cut through his favorite jeans. His leg was a gross, bloody mess but it didn't make Bucky flinch and Sam didn't flinch either. He imagined they’d both seen much worse.

"You should go to the hospital," Sam repeated as he cleared some blood away. He had nice fingers, Bucky realized, instead of listening to his admonishments. They were almost long enough to wrap around Bucky's calf and he was so sure with his movements as he wiped Bucky's leg down with a concentrate of alcohol that was definitely higher than what they sold at the bodega. His nails were maintained, but still a little dirty and rough from work. Like the rest of him: just effortlessly endearing and gorgeous.

"Why do you have random pieces of wood in your apartment?" he asked finally as Sam began to wrap bandages around his knee.

Sam looked down at his temporary floor. "I was going to redo the balcony. So, thanks for this, I guess.”

Bucky gave a lazy kind of wave and then dropped his arm over his eyes. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my day either. I can help you with repairs. Pay for whatever else you need.”

“That’s more helpful than the maintenance guys have been,” Sam said. “I told them all this wood was rotten.”

“Yeah, you shoulda seen how long it took them to come look at my sink drain. I was scooping it out and pouring it down the shower for months,” Bucky agreed.

Sam groaned in sympathy, but didn’t look up from where he was now searching for large splinters. He had eyelashes longer than Bucky’s forearm, it seemed like. And cheekbones that were made to be seen from this angle. Of all the balconies in New York that he could’ve crashed on, why did he have to embarrass himself in front of a model?

Nah, even better than a model. Real and handsome and touchable.

“Wait, did you say partner?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Sam’s long eyelashes fluttered as he looked up and graced Bucky with those eyes again. “What? I didn’t say anything”

“No, earlier. You said your partner has a scar on their face.”

“Oh. Yeah. Riley,” Sam said and closed up a little bit.

“Are they going to be mad that there’s a stranger stuck in your balcony?”

“You’re not stuck anymore,” Sam pointed out. “I just don’t want you to bleed in my apartment.” He ran another cloth soaked with alcohol across Bucky’s leg and then pulled out a huge roll of gauze. “Riley was my flight partner in the Air Force. I mean. He was my partner-partner too. But I don’t think he’s gonna have much to say about you breaking the balcony.”

“Oh. You broke up,” Bucky surmised. “I just thought… The way you talked about him so easily… Sorry,” he added.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him but just gestured for Bucky to hold the edge of the gauze against his leg and proceeded to give Bucky the tightest, most fine wrapped bandages of Bucky’s life. They hadn’t done this well with bandages after he lost his arm.

“God, you were like rescue-pararescue,” Bucky said, like an idiot. What did that even mean. “I mean, we all got triage training, but you’re actually good at it.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, it was part of the job,” he agreed. He tapped off the gauze and then stood, making sure to step inside his apartment before letting himself sit back on his full weight.

Bucky leaned back a little and stared up at him. This was a fantastic angle.

“Come on, give me your hand,” he said, offering his down to Bucky. “Gotta get you off the balcony before my downstairs neighbor really starts to wonder what’s going on.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and let him pull him to his feet, hopping over off the balcony to the apartment flooring. Only, as soon as he put his weight on his unhurt leg, that leg entirely went out from him. He fell against Sam’s chest and both he and Sam reached for the couch behind them to keep from falling over. The couch scooted back another inch, but it held steady after.

Bucky stared at Sam’s mouth because he was at the exact right level for it. But Sam was staring at him too, dark eyes wide, breath warm over Bucky’s face. His hand was on Bucky’s waist.

“Uh…I think I hurt my ankle too,” Bucky offered.

Sam took half a step backwards, scooting the couch again to do so, and helped Bucky find his unstable footing. Bucky balanced on one foot and his toes. Then Sam sank down to one knee and Bucky basically lost all coherent brain function entirely. He lifted Bucky’s pant leg and then sucked in a breath so sharply, the air whistled through the gap in his front teeth.

“Yeah, man. I think you broke it,” he confirmed. “You really need to go to the hospital.”

Bucky groaned and hobbled around Sam to lean on his couch. “It really looks that bad?”

“Are you attached to these shoes?” he asked.

“Yeah, kinda. Why?” They were just Vans, but he hated spending money on shoes (unless they were good boots, or dance shoes).

“Because your shoe may need to be cut off with the way the ankle’s swelling.”

Bucky dropped his head back and groaned like that was going to solve anything. It didn’t really matter. He’d seen how messy the other one had gotten from the blood, so it’s not like he was keeping this pair anyway. When he lifted his head again, Sam was standing there, looking like he was waiting on Bucky for something.

Bucky put on his best pathetic wet cat eyes. “Any chance you drive?” he asked. “I really don’t want to call an ambulance. You know VA insurance doesn’t cover shit.”

Sam’s eyebrow rose. “A man ruins my balcony, bleeds all over my things, accuses my cat of getting his cat pregnant–in fact, accuses me of stealing his cat–and now he wants to ask a favor after I stopped him from bleeding out or falling to his further grisly demise,” he summarized.

“A man will take you out to dinner?” Bucky offered. “As many times as you like?”

Sam stared at him for a moment longer before he relented. “I have discerning tastes,” he warned. “It’s gonna take a while for you to find a place that’s good enough.”

Bucky read directly into that and he grinned, triumphant. “Well, I have very good tastes,” he said. “But I’m gonna start off shitty just to keep you coming back.”

Sam rolled his beautiful eyes, but he was smiling and if Bucky liked his face before, he really loved it when he was smiling. “I’ll take you to the hospital, but don’t expect me to sit there and wait.”

“I think you should,” Bucky tempted. As he watched Sam gather his keys–and, fuck, Bucky’s door was locked and his keys were inside, he was going to have to call Steve to bring the extra–he limped to the door. The promise of Sam coming behind him was enough to keep the pain from taking up too many of his thoughts. Sam was firmly entrenched there.

“Why’s that?” Sam asked. He opened the door for Bucky and ushered him out.

“Because when they ask me what happened and I tell them I fell for the most beautiful man in the world, I’m gonna need the proof.”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes again and smiling even brighter. “I should’ve checked you for a concussion. Lemme make sure your pupils aren't actually heart-shaped right now.”

“This is a perfectly normal reaction to fate literally throwing you into my life,” Bucky defended.

“Fate threw you into mine,” Sam corrected. “You’re the one who fell out of the sky like an omen.”

“An omen?” Bucky asked, affronted. “An angel.”

“Definitely not.”

They waited for the elevator in silence for a few seconds, Bucky leaning on Sam’s side to take some weight off of his leg. Then, just as the elevator dinged its approach, Sam said, “By the way, you're wrong about my cat. He's been fixed for years. Some other cat got your cat pregnant."

Bucky almost missed the elevator as he stared at Sam, who had stepped into it, in shock. Sam caught the door and Bucky quickly followed him in. “This was all for nothing? Why was she in your apartment?”

“I told you, she comes all the time. I think she likes Fig’s food. Besides,” Sam nudged an elbow into Bucky’s side. “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

“‘Cause we met each other?” Bucky finished for him with a pleased grin. “Givin’ me all the warm and fuzzies, Sam.”

“Nah, ‘cause now I’ve got a reason to finally start on my balcony. And some volunteer guilt labor too.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and hit the button for the garage level. “We’ll see about anything else fate might have gifted us later.”

Who knew, Bucky wondered, that fate was a cat.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #tfatws

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thehmn · 2 years

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My friend gifted me The Gift of Fear book for my birthday. It’s a very interesting read that helps you recognize danger signals from other people but the author Gavin De Becker actually helped me manage my anxiety just from a short video somewhere where he explains the difference between fear/suspicion and anxiety/worry.

Very simply put fear/suspicion is a reaction to something in your environment while anxiety/worry is a response to something you imagine or remember either because it happened to you in the past or because you read about it somewhere.

So fear is if you walk into a room and there’s a man acting weird, and anxiety is if you walk into an empty room but get scared because maybe a man acting weird might show up.

There are of course nuances to that. Like, there might be frail old man just reading a newspaper but you get scared because you’re scared of all men, that’s anxiety, or you might know you have a stalker and then it makes sense to not want to be alone in a room with no escape, or you get scared when walking alone because you know it’s a dangerous area, but in both cases the rule still stands; fear is a response, anxiety is a memory/imagination.

De Becker also points out that it’s perfectly reasonable to be suspicious even if it turns out to be nothing. To give a personal example, I used to clean at an office that was in a nook of a lager building with other businesses. It was a busy area but it made no sense for anyone to be in the nook unless they had business with that specific office. One day a man was standing in the nook when I showed up, not doing anything. He didn’t look at me or his phone. He was just standing but at a distance that wasn’t immediately threatening to me. As cleaners we’re taught that if someone wants to break into the place where we clean there’s a chance they might consider our coming and going the optimal time. As soon as we turn off the alarm they might push their way in and though we aren’t the focus we might get hurt. I kept an eye on the guy in the reflection of the glass door while I unlocked it but he never looked at me. After that he showed up regularly but was always gone when I came back outside and I started to suspect that he might be learning my schedule so after entering the office I watched him thought the curtains to see what he did. He stood there for a few minutes when another person suddenly walked towards him, their hands touched for a second and then they both walked off in different directions. A drug deal. So I was right to think something shady was going on, it just had nothing to do with me.

In another case where my fear saved me I was walking my dog at 1 AM. I live in a very safe area so I’ve never been afraid to be out after dark (I never left my apartment after dark while I lived in a bad neighborhood in Leeds). I noticed a parked car on the road but didn’t think much of it because it was parked near a spot where I often meet a middle aged woman who waits to be picked up for her nightshift so I assumed her ride was just early tonight. Suddenly a young man burst out though the hedge surrounding a house, ran to the car, ripped the door open and that’s when he noticed me. He looked at me for a second then jumped into the car. The lights inside the car turned on and I saw another guy in the driver’s seat. They talked and both turned towards me just as the light turned off, then they sped down the street, into a small private parking lot, turned around and finally parked the car across the sidewalk, meaning that when I reached them I’d have to walk out onto the road to pass them. My dog hadn’t noticed anything weird and was busy sniffing the ground. I let him sniff which meant we moved at an exceptionally slow pace and the car never moved and my fear just grew and grew and I got the very strong sense that I shouldn’t get anywhere near that car. I took a split second decision and suddenly crossed the road to a grassy area between houses where a car couldn’t go. As soon as I did the car sped towards me but I was already well away from the street. The car slowed down to a crawl when it reached me and I saw the guys faces in the light from a street lamp. They looked worried. Then they sped up and I could hear them drive away at an insanely high speed. I kept an eye out for news about a crime in the area but saw nothing.

At the time I couldn’t have told you exactly what scared me. I’ve seen many young men run from their garden to their friends waiting in a car, look at me and drive away, and I’ve seen many people parked across the sidewalk because they were lost and were looking at Google maps. But looking back the first thing that I noticed was the way he looked at me before getting into the car. It was a split second too long, like he wasn’t just noticing me but thinking. It was of course also weird that they both looked at me in the car but the thing that really scared me was when they parked and there were no lights in the car. Why didn’t they look at their phones to open Google maps or find a text with directions? Why were they just sitting in darkness?

So Gavin De Becker as taught me to listen to my fear but also realize when I’m just being anxious. When I feel fear I’ll ask myself “What are you afraid of?” and if the answer is a memory or my imagination it helps to calm me down but if I can say “That man/sound/lack of sound/something specific” I know to be on guard even if I’m not sure why it’s scaring me yet. And that means I’ve also learned to trust myself a lot more. Thinking back I realize that I’ve always been right when I was afraid or suspicious of something/someone specific even if it turned out not to be a danger to me. I still knew something shady was going on and I was right to keep my distance because as De Becker says, it’s better to listen to your fear than ignore it because it’s better to be wrong and safe.

And of course this doesn’t mean that if you have bad anxiety or PTSD you should just stop treatment and let fear rule your life. Like I said, there’s more nuance to it than I can explain here, but I wanted to share because I’m amazed how much it has helped me. At first I just noticed I was a lot less anxious in general and it took some time before I realized it happened after watching a random talk from him on YouTube. That’s why I wanted to share this in case it might help others to be less anxious but also trust themselves more.

#humontalks #long post #the gift of fear #gavin de becker #anxiety

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journey-to-the-attic · 10 months

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I've just discovered the pet zoo au and I.am.obsessed.

NO CUZ LIKE IMAGINE IK AND BELPHIE LISTENING TO "WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY" AND BELPHIE JUST STARTES MAKING FOX NOISES ON THAT PART.

Also for some reason I think beels "woof" would be like that one meme with the husky where the humans are trying to sush it and he just lets out the most definde 'woof' ever.

Another thing,what if they tried to write out their names??? Like Satan steps in int and tries to make multuple paw prints on a paper to draw out his name in a way (he fails)

Also, it's said that crows can learn some words...what if crow Mammon (due to being magic as well) manages to start saying a few words and even starts making full on sentences. Can just imagine him flying through the window and landing in front of Ik and her dad like "feed me mortals or perish" as a joke to freak them out BC 'omg a talking crow' AND THEY INSTEAD START SCREAMING THWIR BUTTS OFF WHILE MAMMON IS TRYING TO CALM THEM DOWN BUT IT ONLY TURNS WORSE.

On the talking crow Mammon topic,what if he tells Ik what the others want to tell her?? Like "Yeah Lucifer wants you to put more Britney Spears" or "Levi wants to watch you play this game" or "Asmo says you gotta go pet him"

(wanna hear more from you tho BC I like your hcs, they're funny and silly)

orders given, orders received (/j i've been wanting to talk more about this au too!!)

i love the idea of the brothers attempting to communicate their names,, i feel like lucifer and/or satan would come up with some really smart method of going about it (like laying out books or ripping up a newspaper and using the letters), but ik and her dad are just like 'ah, what silly animal antics' and clean up the mess without even noticing what they're trying to spell out

so at first they just all have nicknames-

lucifer: peter (as in Peter the Peacock)

mammon: car (crow goes "caw!", caw sounds like 'car', ergo, car)

levi: socks (on the first morning after they took the animals in, ik found him trying to hide inside one. it's also funny because usually you get cats or dogs named this)

satan: paddy (aunt lisa picked this one - as in st paddy, for his green eyes)

asmo: duchess (ik had a feeling he'd like it)

beel: boof (it's the noise he makes)

belphie: hu (from the chinese word for fox (zhao picked this one). sometimes it's extended to hu-hu)

at first, satan and asmo are the only ones who like their new nicknames, while everyone else is mostly neutral on theirs, apart from lucifer, who HATES his

however, he still responds to it, so really it's his fault that it sticks

eventually everyone warms up to their new nicknames, but they'd still like their new family to know their actual ones

i like the idea of mammon learning speech, so yes he'd be the one to eventually relay the message!

he hops around on ik's shoulder going "lucifer! lucifer! lucifer!", and ik thinks her crow friend is conducting a ritual up until she realises he keeps pointing his beak at peter the peacock

she does switch to their actual names once she learns them, but in her head she still tends to refer to them by their nicknames, and they still respond when she uses them aloud

mammon's language would be more fluent than a regular crow's, but i don't think he'd generally be able to string together full sentences

so it's more like a "hey! food!" when he's hungry, "kid? okay?" when he's concerned, "levi. bowl. broke!" when he's snitching

he can manage full sentences if he tries really hard, but he usually can't be bothered, so he saves them for when he's serious

for example, if ik were getting bullied, he would go full fluency mode to say "i'm gonna kill them for you"

the other brothers are mostly happy to just chill (particularly levi and belphie), but lucifer gets so restless with no work to do that he starts assigning himself random chores to occupy himself

for example he's decided it's his job to open all the curtains in the morning and close them at night

ik starts bringing home random worksheets from school and lucifer will just sit there staring at them (he doesn't have hands to write with so he just has to answer mentally)

levi has a little box by the window from which he can see the tv and also sunbathe

ik brings home a sheet of stickers so that he can pick some to decorate with

beel is SUCH a big dog that he would take up the whooole sofa or bed if he sat there, so usually he very politely sticks to the floor

but then they buy him a big blanket and he starts carrying it with him from room to room to rest on (belphie also steals it a lot)

everyone has their own little spots around the house where they usually stay, apart from mammon, who is nearly always found on ik's shoulder

if ik isn't home he will stand on zhao's head instead

satan nearly always sleeps on either ik or zhao's bed and at some point his habit extends to the others, so they start taking it in turns being 'guards' for both humans at night

lucifer pretends to be above it as if he DOESN'T trot himself right to rooms and stay there the whole night as soon as it's his turn

whenever ik's stressed out from school she comes home and just plonks herself on beel

he's such a big dog that he barely even feels it so he's perfectly happy to be a big fluffy pillow

levi spends most of his time in his box but he'll also be quite happy to go around the house draped around ik's neck and listening to her narrate her whole day to him

sometimes ik brings asmo ribbons and such and he gets so excited that he does that jumpy twisty thing rabbits do (i think it's called binkying?)

asmo and satan both get the zoomies but satan's always so embarrassed about it afterwards, while asmo simply owns the energy and then flops over for pats afterwards

belphie's normally very quiet and docile but occasionally he'll just SCREAM and it scares everyone in the house

#answering asks #anon asks #pet zoo au #jtta aus #i'm thinking about how this was proposed as a post-fall sort of nightbringer au....#there's so much potential in translating the brothers' nightbringer development in this au #but aside from the drama i think getting to be animals just chilling with these two nice humans would be a form of therapy in and of itself #since satan's still newborn here maybe his love for cats in this au comes from having been one during this situation #that reminds me though... eventually they'll have to fix this #diavolo and barbatos figure out where the brothers have ended up and arrive to bring them to the devildom as they were meant to go #so they're trying to secretly sneak them out to turn them back to normal and stuff #but it turns into kid's movie slapstick as ik and her dad assume they're Nefarious Animal Control Guys attempting kidnap #and the brothers aren't really making it much easier because... they kinda want to stay here now #but eventually they will have to go and oh no now i've made myself sad thinking about it

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cosmolog · 2 years

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Imagine No Way Home ended with this scene.

Side Note: Y/n is a superhero who can teleport and slow down or even freeze time.

This imagine was literally me writing this while listening to this song and thinking, "every time I turn around you disappear" hmm, teleportation powers, she shall have!

Peter sat on a bench in a local park, the same park in which he helped Tony fight an alien from space. He remembers that moment with sadness. That was the start of his space journey, one which led to him blipping along with half the universe.

He remembers entering that afterlife place, seeing all those people freaking out at what had just occured. Until Strange had called up all the heroes and told them of the plan. The plan that led to the end of the war, and the end of Tony's life.

After that, Peter had gone back to being Spider-Man, though it ended in him making a fake friend and the betrayal of said friend.

Then all that led to Peter's identity being revealed to the entire world. Most people hated Peter for 'killing Mysterio', but only the people who truly believed in Spider-Man had the common sense to think, 'He wouldn't do such a thing. He's Spider-Man!'

And after visiting Strange about it, all went to shit. Spider-Men and their villains from different universes started leaking into Peter's universe.

So in order to set things right, Peter told Strange to make everyone forget he existed. Which worked a treat after some lovey dovey stuff.

So now, nobody knew who Peter was. He had tried and failed to tell his friends what happened, he didn't want to ruin their lives all over again.

Anyways. Present day.

As Peter sat, his eyes drifting between all the people around him. Some kids were playing with their dog, their mother keeping a watchful eye on them, a man was reading the New York Times, a woman doing a photoshoot with a guy behind the camera, the clicks of each shot rang through Peter's ears.

Suddenly, he felt another person sit down beside him, on the other end of the bench. "So this is what you're going to do all day" The girl, around Peter's age, spoke, also looking around the place.

Peter glanced at her. "Sorry, uh. Are you talking to me?" He asked, not seeing a phone to her ear.

She smiled, meeting his gaze. "I sure am" She replied.

"What do you mean by saying this is what I've been doing all day?" He asked. "I don't even know who you are"

"Apologies, Mr. Parker. I'm bad at communicating with fellow people. I'm Y/n L/n" She answered.

"How- How do you know me. Strange casted a spell, you're not meant to know me" Peter rushed, beginning to freak out.

"Did I forget to mention I'm not exactly human?" She asked, mentally kicking herself. "I'm sort of a superhero...? I don't know what else to call it. I can teleport and freeze time meaning my body can rip itself apart only to be put back together every time I teleport" She teleported all the way to the edge of the park, where Peter could spot her waving, before teleporting back to where she originally sat.

"Does it hurt?" Peter asked.

"No...Not really" She replied. "I got these....abilities when I touched a blue box. Which was I don't know how many years ago" She replied, crossing one leg over the other. "I was pretty stupid back then"

"We could've used you in the fight against Thanos, your skills would've come in handy" Peter said. "Why didn't you help?"

"Because I didn't even know there was a fight. You were on another planet. Plus, I don't want to be a superhero like you or have responsibilities like Steve Rogers" She said. "I just want my powers to be something I can use if I ever need to get away from danger or get others out of danger"

Peter paused for a moment. "How come Mr.Stark or Nick Fury didn't find you?" He asked.

"Have a good think about that one, Peter. Teleportation is very handy if nobody else can move as fast as you" She chuckled. "Nick Fury did find me once, he tried to make me join the Avengers and I wanted no part in that, even if they offered me all that money. I don't like feeling like people own me. I don't like being used as a human shield" She said.

"Okay, I see where you're coming from but I don't do it for the paycheck, heck, I don't get payed at all now. Being Spider-Man is great, I get to do my part ensuring the safety of everyone in New York and the World. And when I'm me, I get to hang out with my friends and go through normal life things like having a girlfriend. Well, at least I had a girlfriend and a life. But it's just Spider-Man, he's all I can be now. Everyday I wake up, and it's Spider-Man who goes about his day. I feel like Peter Parker stopped existing the moment I put on that suit for the first time" Peter ranted.

Y/n nodded in understanding. "Well...I remember you. So Peter Parker does exist, I'm living evidence of that. And I believe in you, always have always will"

"How do you know me?" Peter asked, titling his head slightly.

She shrugged. "This is gonna sound weird but I've seen you before, first in my dreams, then at school. And the thing is, my memory is so incredibly enhanced thanks to the tesseract, that not even a spell from the former Sorcerer Supreme could tamper with my head. It's very interesting, most of the stuff I know now, I just know because of that blue stone. I know everything there is to know about the universe. I can go anywhere I want. So you could say the stone protected me. Well, some of it, the rest is destroyed"

Peter huffed. "Huh" He muttered.

She suddenly sat up, leaning towards him, a smile on her face. "So, do you wanna catch some bad guys?" She asked.

#Spider-Man #spiderman x reader #femalereader #xreaderstories #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peterparker #superheroxsuperhero #teleportation #tesseract #spidermannowayhome #spiderman far from home #spiderman #Spotify

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wheatnoodle · 2 years

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TW // MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

i just saw someone on here say that if eddie came back as kas, the only way he’d break from the curse is by feeling so much guilt for killing someone and how that someone would he steve because he’s always trying to save everyone.

and now im picturing the gang finding eddie/kas in the upside down and dustin keeps trying to tell him to just come back with them and that they can fix it (obviously before the curse is broken). eddie’s getting a little too close to dustin and snarling so steve steps between them.

kas attacking steve for getting in the way and for offering himself up.

dustin screaming and sobbing, begging eddie to “stop! stop it! please! you’re killing him!” when kas does in fact start ripping out chunks or flesh and draining his blood from his neck.

the others having to hold dustin and robin back and watch in horror as kas is practically feasting on him. listening as steve’s cries of pain turn into strained grunts, to deep ragged breaths, to this awful gurgling sound because his mouth and throat are filled with his own blood.

eddie coming to and his eyes go from red back to brown and he’s looking at these big doe eyes that he would recognize from anywhere. and they’re wide and full of so many emotions that eddie can’t even focus on because his hands are warm and when he looks at them, there’s blood coating up to his elbows. looking back down and he sees the source, trickling steadily from steve’s neck in little puncture wounds but flooding from his shredded chest and stomach.

“oh my god…steve? steve?! can you hear me? steve, please!” now eddie’s the one begging. he’s straddling steve’s hips, hands gripping the jock’s shoulders as he shakes him. steve let’s out an awful sound of pain and eddie stops.

dustin’s run over by now, pushing eddie away and pulling off his hoodie to try and press into the wounds in his abdomen, nancy going to add pressure with her own jacket as well. robin is sitting by his head, resting it in his lap and cradling his face in her hands. she knows she’s got blood all over her now and she’s spreading more on his face, but that doesn’t matter because he’s looking at her, and only her, and she can see the fear and the pain in his eyes. she’s crying but she’s smiling down at him too.

“you did so good. so, so good. it’s okay. you don’t need to keep fighting anymore.” of course she wants nothing more than for her best friend to live. they’re supposed to move out of hawkins, get an apartment together and put up too many decorations around the holidays. they already named their future dog. steve had never had a dog. who else was she supposed to raise ruby tuesday with? who else was she supposed to go to the ruby tuesday salad bar with and laugh at naming their dog after the place they go to just for the shredded cheese?

steve’s able to glance at eddie with just his eyes. he can’t turn his head. there’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs to say. he hopes his eyes can share everything his lips can’t. god, he needs him to understand.

“it’s okay.”

“take care of my kids. take care of dustin.”

“it’s okay.”

“i missed you.”

“i love you.” except those words aren’t in his head. they are in the open, loud and clear for everyone to hear. steve thinks he may have used his last bit of strength to push out those words to the metalhead covered in his blood, his long hair blurry around the edges where steve’s eyes glass over with his tears. it’s not voice that speaks. it’s eddie’s.

and steve smiles. a twitch of the corner of his lips, barely noticeable but seen by those surrounding him. his gaze falls on robin and she giggles weakly through her tears. her fingers cupping his cheeks.

“yeah, babe. he loves you. so do i, so does ruby tuesday. all of us.”

and steve can glance at his kids, at his friends his own age, people who really shouldn’t care about him as much as they do. people he was cruel to, people he would have been cruel to had he not gotten that knock of er the head by one of the girls now crying over his body.

they love him. and they can keep fighting because he made the ultimate sacrifice. eddie can be the hero this time. eddie, who won’t let steve harrington be another name lost to the upside down. who finds the courage to step up and speak at his funeral that of course the whole town showed up for despite the fact eddie knows it will end poorly for him.

steve harrington who’s jersey number gets retired from all leagues in hawkins and his basketball jersey gets hung in the gym. the harrington house that’s always so quiet now that nobody is there, having the front door be overloaded with flowers and candles. steve harrington who never got to know just how much his town loved him.

ok i need to stop before I get ahead of myself wtf

#tw sad shit #major character death #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #kas eddie munson #why do i do these things #why did i do this to myself #this hurts??#dustin henderson #robin buckley

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derelictlovefool · 1 year

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Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4k

read on ao3

The air was heavy. Or maybe Dean's body was just being weighed down by the sight before him. The woman he'd helped, who he had still failed to ask the name of even now, was knelt in the mud sobbing over a corpse. Two spears with Eden's Gate's symbol on the end of them dug deep into the lifeless body. An Australian cattle dog with black and white fur, Boomer—he knew the dog's name at least—sat at his feet. His small head was bowed and he whined like he was mourning the loss just like the woman before them.

Arriving at the farm had felt like a dream, or a nightmare to be more accurate. His newly made guide had sprung into a blind rage before Dean had time to think, and that's how they'd ended up surrounded by multiple bodies littering the ground. The ones still breathing were his handiwork and the ones he refused to look at his companion's doing. He'd never been more intimidated by a four foot tall woman with a shovel in his life.

Dean didn't know what to do with himself now, he absently petted Boomers head, eyes focused on the deep red mixing in with the wet earth. He was no good at comforting people, what would he even say at a time like this? 'Sorry your friend was murdered by a religious cult, I'm sure it was long and painful'? Yeah, no. Dean glanced at her, watching her soft face contort as she clutched onto the stained and ripped shirt, shaking her head and mumbling curses through her cries.

Dutch's words couldn't help but creep into the edge of his mind, something about people wanting to help but needing direction… He sighed, shook his head and took a step forward. This was a real shitty way to get that direction. He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, nearly jumping as her other hand shot back to grab onto it like it was a life raft.

"We need to get these assholes—they can't get away with this." She snarled tearfully, anger ablaze in her bloodshot eyes as she looked back at him. Dean could only bring himself to nod, he agreed, obviously. He struggled on the wording, he forgot one of the most important things about this whole thing. Resistances barely ever ended with an arrest, people who were wronged would always want blood. And he wasn't about to stand in her way, as much as he wanted to minimise the life count here. Getting caught in the crossfire of that firefight would be more detrimental to him than anything.

The woman softened as Boomer nudged her arm, sneaking under her and whining. She let go of Dean to wrap her arms around the pup, leaning her head on his and sobbing a bit more quietly. She looked tired, the kind of tired years usually took out of you. Dean really wished Whitehorse were here—or Joey, she seemed to always have some kind of advice for him. Maybe once he got to her she could share some of that advice on how to fix this mess.

"Alright," She let out a long exhale and wiped her eyes, "I told you we'd take you to Fall's End…" She looked up at Dean and he almost felt like telling her to forget about it. He would stumble upon it eventually surely. But she held her hand out and he took it, helping her up once again. She cast another mournful look downward before walking away into the house. Dean stayed put, watching Boomer as he looked between his dead owners.

The sight reminded him of when an old widow passed away on his street, she had baked cookies for the neighbourhood kids every Sunday and had an old Basset hound almost as old as her. She'd passed away in summer—He and Jacob had found her in her living room with the hound on her lap, he had looked like he was crying just like Boomer did now…

The jingle of metal drew Dean's attention to the door and there the woman stood with car keys in one hand and a rifle in the other. Her cheeks were tear stained and her bottom lip still wobbled as she spoke.

"My name is Blair, forgot to introduce myself… Do you know how to use this?" She offered the rifle to Dean as she stepped off the porch and he took hold of it with a sigh and a nod.

"Yep." Technically he did. He did now anyway. He wished he still didn't.

"Okay, I'll drive and you make sure you gun down any peggie bastard you see." She instructed, walking past him to the car parked a bit away. Dean felt his blood run cold at the order, he wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He thought back to the panicked drive with the Marshal, the way he'd been so sure to shoot out tires and avoid hitting anyone. But even then a careless toss of dynamite and panicked screams echoed on and the ghosts tied to his ankles were only growing in number one by one.

Blair walked to the car and Dean was close to following after her but a particularly pitiful whine from Boomer made him pause. He glanced at Blair who shared a look with him as she hovered by the drivers side door. They couldn't leave him here, more peggies could show up and who knows what they'd do to the poor thing.

"C'mon boy," Dean pet the dog's side gently, guiding him to the car and opening up the back door for him. Boomer hopped in and curled up on the backseat, giving the heartiest sigh Dean had ever heard from a dog. He hopped into the passenger seat, put his seat belt on and rested the rifle in his lap. Blair put the key into the ignition with a fire in her eyes that made Dean want to grab onto the hand holds—He didn't, but maybe he should have. When she finally put her foot on the gas Dean felt himself fly back in his seat, the back of his head almost comically bouncing off the headrest. He braced himself on the center console as she swerved out of the driveway.

"Jesus," he muttered, Blair huffing out a small apology as she gunned it down the road. Dean glanced in the backseat, finding Boomer now on the floor behind Blair's seat, a similar surprise in his big brown eyes. Dean laughed, he couldn't help it, and he saw Blair crack half a smile as he ran a hand down his face. After righting himself he wound down the window, the wind blowing by sending his hair flying in his face. He reared back, hurriedly pushing the dark brown strands out of his eyes.

"There's a cap in the back, probably wanna put it on."

Dean nodded at the suggestion and twisted around, being met with Boomer holding the faded blue cap between his teeth. He held it out to Dean and gave the deputy pause, this was one smart dog. That could come in handy. He took it, ruffling his head with a small thanks before tugging the cap onto his head. Now with his hair out of his eyes Dean settled back in the seat and kept his eyes on the side of the road. He was hoping they wouldn't pass by any peggies at all but luck hadn't been on his side so far. It felt like it hadn't been on his side in a while.

They sped down quite a large stretch of road without seeing anything, it almost let Dean forget about what led him to being in the car with Blair and Boomer. The wind was refreshing against his face and the hum of the engine under his feet would have been enough to lull him to sleep had he been more relaxed. It had been a while since he'd been in the passenger seat, once he'd gotten his licence he barely ever let anyone else drive him around. He forgot how nice it could be. Not having to think and just enjoying the views that went by.

A scream interrupted that fragile peace all too soon.

Boomer let out a startled bark, jumping back onto the seat and sticking his head out of the back window as he searched for the source of the pained cry. Dean tightened his grip on the rifle in his hand, putting the barrel up on the window frame as he readied himself to fire warning shots. The anxiety in his stomach resurfaced as they rounded a bend, another small group of peggies stood along the side of the road, two corpses crumpled at their feet on the asphalt. The car jolted forward, Blair putting her foot further down on the gas as she hunched forward.

The car swerved and Dean fell back in his seat before he knew what was happening. The peggies up ahead turned as the sound of the car veering towards them finally registered and Dean locked eyes with all three as Blair aimed for them. That hadn't been part of the plan, but he wasn't about to offer the pissed off redhead next to him any criticism. The peggies attempted to move, their bodies twisting and bending but they didn't make it very far before the bonnet rammed into them. One after the other they rolled, their bodies flying with the impact and disappearing behind the car before Dean could even blink.

He tried to ignore the way the car rocked as whatever under them got under the tires and made for a short, bumpy surface. He also tried to ignore the new splatters of red on the cracked windshield as Blair continued down the road. He clutched the rifle in his hands, now aimed at the roof of the car as he sat unaligned in his chair. Blair let out a ragged breath, her short fingers stretched out before wrapping around the steering wheel again, her shoulders sagging a small fraction.

Silence fell over them, the road clear and smooth and the Valley all too quiet.

"Sorry." Blair muttered out after a moment, glancing at him through the rear view mirror. He nodded, finally readjusting in his seat and shaking his head, clearing his throat as he dared a glance in the rearview himself. Blair's expression was a mix of anger and shock, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done but couldn't bring herself to regret it. He could understand that, kind of.

"S'fine. Let's just… Keep to the road, yeah?" He offered a lousy, weak smile and Blair nodded with her own tight lipped excuse of a smile.

Boomer whined from the backseat and Dean reached back to offer a small pat of comfort, poor boy probably wasn't used to the high action of a… Hit and run? That's kinda what they just did wasn't it? Fuck. He felt more sure than ever of his choice to leave his badge behind, carrying that around would be more ironic than anything now.

Luckily for Dean and perhaps Blair too, the rest of the way to Fall's End was clear. Unfortunately however, as they neared the town Dean picked up a transmission from Mary May Fairgrave and the tone of it was less than optimistic. The first thing they spotted when coming up to the town was the burnt remains of a building, which made the small sparks of hope in Dean truly flake out. Blair cursed under her breath and turned off road again, slowing down and rolling the car a ways behind the burnt building.

She killed the engine and sat back with another huff of breath, brown eyes flicking around wildly as she muttered a bit under her breath and chewed on her thumb nail. Dean let her be, unbuckling himself and scooting out of the car carefully, keeping his eyes out for any peggies that may have been wandering. They were just outside of Fall's End, he could see the small stretch of town and blurry figures walking around with a hell of a lot more guns than they currently had. Boomer hopped out of the car and settled beside him, growling lowly at the invaders ahead of them.

"I dunno if we'll be able to take these guys out on our own, I know a couple up a ways. The Rye's, they've got a plane and might be able to help us out here." Blair leant over the centre console, talking in a hushed tone as she gestured behind her shoulder. Dean shuffled back to the car, tugging his backpack off and pulling the map out of it once more. He spread it out on the seat and Blair looked it over, trailing her hand around Holland Valley before pointing at a big piece of land with what looked like an airstrip.

That was pretty far from here.

"I'll stay, if they start getting too rowdy I'll…" He trailed off, not really wanting to say what he knew was ultimately unavoidable. Blair nodded, reaching over to pat his hand firmly.

"Mary May and Jerome are important to this community, if you think they're in trouble for even a second you rain hell down on those fuckers. We can't lose 'em." The conviction in Blair's words steeled Dean's fraying nerves and he squeezed the hand that had wrapped around his. This felt solid, like something he could actually do compared to the mammoth of a task Dutch wanted to push onto his shoulders. He could keep these people safe, he could help them, he just needed to stay calm and keep his hands steady. He could do that.

He took the map and leaned back, closing the car door and giving the frame a firm pat. Blair started the car again, sharing one last nod with Dean before she turned and rolled back down the road they'd come from. He stayed in that spot and watched her disappear down the road, becoming nothing but a hazy mirage on the horizon. He glanced down at the dog beside him, glad he at least had a little company left. He didn't feel as alone. Not that, that eased any of the dread in his stomach.

He got as close as he was willing to the town, hiding behind a broken down and rusted car and keeping Boomer close to him. He hoped they wouldn't hurt him but considering how freely they gunned down people he didn't have high hopes for how they treated animals. He ran his hand through Boomer's short fur, really more for himself than the pooch. It brought a comfort one could only get from petting a dog. Occasionally he'd hear the peggies get riled up, talking louder and ranting and raving at their captives.

None of them were making any move to harm the captives, that was until the woman Dean assumed was Mary May headbutted a peggie that had been getting in her face. He jumped to a crouched position, panic flying through him as the peggie kicked her square in the chest and knocked her onto the dirt road.

That seemed like trouble.

He cleared his throat and readied his rifle, jumping up and rushing to the back of another building, Boomer hot on his heels. He'd had time to count the peggies littered around, from what he'd spotted there were about ten. Not too bad, not ideal but he could handle it. He didn't have much of a choice. He snuck into one of the buildings, keeping low and avoiding making too much noise. He pushed himself up against one of the walls beside the front window of the house, peeking out and spotting the main ground group.

It would be stupid to hit any of them out in the open, starting a firefight would mostly end in dead captives and a few bullets for him and Boomer too.

He tried to call upon his older brother in his mind, all the war stories and battle tactics he'd gone over a faded memory in his mind. Dean had never had that strategic brain, he always went headfirst into something and hoped for the best. But that was only when his safety was on the line, other people were depending on him here. He glanced down at Boomer, who seemed ready to follow Dean into whatever he set off. It gave him some confidence, oddly. He just hoped Blair and her friends wouldn't take too long to reach them.

Dean gave Boomer another hearty pat, shuffling off and sneaking out of a side door to the side yard. He crouched beside some bushes, waiting for a peggie to come around into the yard and out of view of the rest. If he could pick them off one by one without them catching onto him he'd have a good chance of getting everyone out of here alive. He really hoped he could get everyone out of here alive.

He sucked in a deep breath at the sound of footfalls on gravel, hearing the crunch and breathing of another person alongside the mechanical scraping of a rifle against a belt. The peggie walked past him blissfully unaware, only spotting him when it was too late and Dean had thrown himself out of the bush to wrap his arm around the guy's neck. He pulled him back to the bush, locking his elbow and covering the guy's mouth with his hand. His lean body thrashed around and his hands clawed at Dean arms, his boots dug into the dirt; kicking up grass and jolting his body around even more.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, if he knew any prayers he'd have been muttering one now.

Dean squeezed harder, willing the man to stop moving and eventually he did. His body was heavy and Dean tried to be careful as he laid his head down on the grassy ground. He tugged him further into the bush, making sure he'd be hard to spot. He took the handgun from his belt and the bullets from his rifle, it felt odd looting the guy after knocking him out but he's sure he wouldn't hold it against him. He'd probably have happily looted him if the roles were reversed, that thought made it a little easier.

"Tell your precious Father he can go fuck himself!"

A woman's voice shouted in the distance and peeking around the fence Dean spotted the same woman from before back on her knees, glaring up at the Peggie that had kicked her. He sucked in a deep breath and used the distraction to shuffle across the road, his sight set on the Pastor. He caught said man's eye on his way and tried to motion for him to be quiet, ungracefully nearly knocking the handgun into his teeth as he did. He made it to cover, listened to the building commotion with his blood rushing in his ears and waited for another stray peggie to wander to him.

He did the same dance and song, hiding the body he brought down and making his way inside the church, he took down the peggies in there and snuck back to the fence just behind Jerome.

"You came just in the knick of time friend." Jerome whispered, keeping his eyes forward as Dean watched the nearest peggie walk back to them. His head was turned to watch his buddy having a shouting match with Mary May and as soon as he was close enough Dean pulled him over the fence. The angle didn't allow for the choke out so he rammed his elbow into the guy's temple, throwing him to the side and landing another punch to his cheek for good measure. The Peggie fell with a thud and he didn't wait to check if he was okay, the shouts were getting louder and he could feel himself getting antsy.

He did have time to take the hunting knife from his thigh, using it to cut the zip ties around Jerome's wrist. Jerome shuffled back, crouching beside him and breathing out a sigh of relief as he rubbed his wrists.

"I'm gonna try and get the guy up on that roof, can you help your friend?" Dean didn't bother with polite formalities, at the moment they didn't seem too important. Jerome nodded and Dean gave him the handgun, he didn't know if he'd use it but it was protection nonetheless. He didn't wait for any verbal response from the Pastor, barely catching it as he went to the side and hopped over the fence. Behind the buildings now he spotted a ladder, which he tried to climb quickly and quietly—two things very hard to do with an old rusty ladder.

He spotted the sniper, leering over the edge and scoping out the edge of the buildings. Dean had been lucky he hadn't spotted him when he was sneaking around. Carefully Dean kept to a crouch, moving slowly behind the peggie and making as little noise as he could. As the peggie stepped back and began to turn Dean grabbed his sniper and knocked him over. Just as he did a range of gunshots and shouts resounded down below, Jerome's name tossed around with the title of sinner in the midst of it all. Either they noticed he was gone or he'd been spotted.

Stealth was out, so he guessed it was back to headfirst diving in. That was bound to happen eventually but now a small job was gonna be a big one, especially if any of the peggies got off distress calls for backup which Dean was guessing they would. The peggie in front of him kicked his legs out, trying to knock Dean over but he managed to jump over them. He kicked the guy's gun away and attempted to hit him with the butt of his rifle, the peggie rolled away just in time and jumped back up onto his feet.

Dean deigned to toss his rifle to the side, not wanting the peggie to copy his earlier move and possibly knock him down. The peggie came at him first, throwing a weak left hook that Dean knocked away with his forearm, bringing his left arm and landing a firm punch to the peggies nose. The peggie stumbled back but steadied himself and threw himself at Dean again, this time he ducked down and hooked around Dean's middle. Dean took a few unbalanced steps back, stopping just short of the edge of the roof. He dug his heels in and rammed his elbow down on the back of the peggies neck.

The guy grunted in pain but held on, his grip only loosening on the third blow Dean landed. Dean took the opportunity to grab the guy's shoulders and ram his knee up into his sternum, tossing him off of him. Dean followed up with another punch to the gut and then his left cheek, finally kicking the guy in the stomach and sending him onto his back again. The peggie rolled onto his side and as Dean got closer he flung his arm through the air, the glint of a blade making Dean rear back.

He felt a sting across the bridge of his nose but he ignored it in favour of grabbing the guy's wrist, bringing his forearm down on Dean's now bent knee. The knife clattered to the ground and Dean punched the guy again, really beginning to feel that familiar ache in his knuckles and exertion in his lungs.

To his good fortune the peggie finally stopped moving and fell flat against the roof, chest very barely moving and wheezing breaths escaping his open, bloody mouth. Dean pushed himself back onto his feet, stumbled to the edge and looked over the chaos unfurling on the ground. Mary May was now free as well as any other captives that the peggies had been holding, which had unavoidably started an intense firefight.

He pushed himself back, racing back to the ladder and sliding down it. He landed less than gracefully and stumbled as he caught his footing. He began to run between two buildings, almost making it to the end before a peggie ran in from the way he was headed. He was facing behind him, looking at whoever had made him run in the first place and Dean took that opportunity to surprise him.

As they ran into each other Dean did his usual trick of grabbing his gun. He tossed him into the side of one of the buildings, ramming his shoulder into his chest as he tried to pry the gun from his hands. The peggie recovered from the shock quicker than Dean appreciated, launching the gun upward and the sting of the metal hitting his forehead came quickly, followed soon after by an ache and a surprised grunt.

Dean stumbled back, arms flailing as he tried to find purchase on the peggie with dots blurring his vision. Another hard blow knocked into his gut and he felt his ass make contact with the concrete and then his elbows. Pain bloomed through his arms in both directions and he rolled to his side to alleviate some of the pain, groaning as he tried to focus his bleary eyes. He caught the shine of something and looking up he was met with the barrel of the gun pointed at him. Well shit.

Everything moved slowly, he lifted his hand—To what? Block a bullet? God he was an idiot. A shot went off and Dean tensed, but no pain came. No skin was torn and the only blood coming out of him was leaking from his nose and lips. The peggie in front of him however dropped to the ground in a heap, gun clattering and skull loudly cracking against the ground. Dean caught the blurry figure of Jerome rushing forward, picking him off the ground and asking if he was alright as he leaned against him.

He nodded, coughing when he attempted to speak. Jerome didn't push him further as more gunshots rebounded through the air, he tucked him against the wall and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before seemingly going back into the fight. Dean took a second to collect himself and shake the ringing from his ears. That ringing turned into whirring and Dean furrowed his brows, covering his ears in confusion before the force of something large going overhead far too close nearly knocked him over. His head shot up and he caught sight of the tail of a white plane.

Oh great, they had air support.

Dean nearly fell over as another plane shot past, bright yellow this time. That couldn't be a peggie plane as well, surely. He ducked down to grab the peggies gun, only half deterred by his locked grip and fish eyed stare. He raced back into the main street, looking up and watching as the yellow plane let loose a rain of bullets onto the peggie plane. He felt like cheering, he was relieved he wouldn't have to deal with that. He wouldn't have had a clue on how to take out a plane from the ground.

A bullet whizzed past his head and he remembered he was in an active fight, he dropped to a crouch and spun on his heels. The peggie that had shot at him began to move back behind their cover but he let off a shot and clipped their shoulder before they managed to hide. As they bent over in pain a flicker of a thought passed him by, he could have easily landed a head shot in that moment.

The thought made him feel ill, the fact he'd even thought about it made him feel even worse and he turned and ran to take his own cover instead. He spotted Blair, Boomer at her side as she hit a peggie over the head with a metal pipe. The act was raw and angry, a big contrast to her soft appearance, if he hadn't seen her do a similar thing with a shovel earlier it would have been much more jarring. The planes flew back overhead, causing another gust of strong wind.

The cacophony of sounds was almost peaceful for a moment, everything merging together in a loud hum in Dean's head. And then it was messy and grating again, too many bullets and voices—Even his own breathing was too much. Bullets ricocheted off of his cover and he tried to duck down lower and slow his breathing, his self soothing was interrupted by a quiet bark. Boomer stood in front of him with the bloody pipe Blair had been holding now in his mouth, tail wagging behind him.

He took it and nudged his forehead against his furry one, the comfort from the dog enough to get him back on track in his head. They were doing this, they were pushing back the peggies and had a guy in the sky to top it off. They could do this.

#another bites the dust lets gooooo #far cry 5 oc #jacob seed x oc #Far Cry Tag #SMFYaM Tag #Multichapter Tag #finally utilising more of my OCs hello Blair beloved Blair we're all happy to see you <333 #Deputy Dean Tag

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lost-with-belief · 1 year

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Boys

Name: Rantaro Amami

Talent: Ultimate Adventurer

Height: 5'10

Weight: 137 lbs

Birthday: October 3rd

Blood Type: B

Likes: Extraterritorial Rights

Dislikes: Cars

Former High School: Hope's Pass High School

Bio: Rantaro had been on his way to the orientation when the first sign of the outbreak showed itself. However, upon hearing the frightened screams of survivors inside the building, he put his adventuring skills to the test and rushed in to rescue as many people as he could, joining forces with a group of fifteen others and planning on rescuing a group of children trapped in Towa City. For now, his objective: survive and locate twelve special young ladies...

Name: Gonta Gokuhara

Talent: Ultimate Entomologist

Height: 6'6

Weight: 207 lbs

Birthday: January 23rd

Blood Type: A

Likes: Arthropods

Dislikes: Bananas

Former High School: Saint Mountain Academy

Bio: Gonta was sent to the orientation by his mother, and while on an individual tour from a kind girl who was blind and used a service dog, he watched as the girl was brutally murdered by a group of the dead, and horrifically maimed by a woman who decided to put her down. He then watched in terror, hiding inside a store room, as her poor dog met the same fate, and thus, he's only been able to fear for the safety of the insects and animals out in the apocalypse.

Name: Ryoma Hoshi

Talent: Ultimate Tennis Pro

Height: 3'5

Weight: 88 lbs

Birthday: July 1st

Blood Type: B

Likes: Russian Blues

Dislikes: Whitetip Reef Sharks

Former High School: Fog Heights High School

Bio: Ryoma was attending the orientation with his prison warden, that being an opportunity to get him off of death row for a crime he refuses to speak of now. However, when the outbreak happened, the warden was killed and Ryoma struggled, but eventually, with the assistance of Miu Iruma, managed to get rid of his ankle monitor and turn it into a bomb, which he used after luring the dead into a confined room.

Name: K1-B0 "Kiibo" Idabashi

Talent: Ultimate Robot

Height: 5'3

Weight: 196 lbs

Birthday: October 29th

Blood Type: N/A

Likes: 100-240 Volts

Dislikes: Vending Machines

Former High School: Idabashi Industries High School

Bio: Attending the Hope's Peak orientation with his creator, Kiibo watched as Professor Idabashi was ripped apart by the dead right in front of his eyes as he could only helplessly watch. Though unable to receive an undead bite, himself, he joined forces with Rantaro Amami to save as many survivors as he could, and their group later began debating who they'd like to see if are alive, mostly comprised of things like family and friends. Kiibo, however, has nothing that the group knows of to look forward to...

Name: Kaito Momota

Talent: Ultimate Astronaut

Height: 6'0

Weight: 163 lbs

Birthday: April 12th

Blood Type: O

Likes: Houseplants

Dislikes: The Occult

Former High School: Dodonpachi Commercial High School

Bio: Kaito had been giving a tour of Hope's Peak Academy for the orientation of the new students, having interned under the Ultimate Astronaut role for a long time in order to work for NASA and eventually get into space. However, as the outbreak became apparent, he was unable to save anyone, but attempted to save freshmen students, only to fail. He's been open about this after being rescued by Maki Harukawa, but he doesn't like to remember it. This incident made him fear for the safety of his grandparents, as well, and they're who he searches for.

Name: Kokichi Ouma

Talent: Ultimate Supreme Leader

Height: 5'1

Weight: 97 lbs

Birthday: June 21st

Blood Type: A

Likes: Carbonated Beverages

Dislikes: Pig Feet

Former High School: Imperial Capital's Imperial High School

Bio: Kokichi was forced to attend the orientation of Hope's Peak by his parole officer for previous thefts and vandalisms. He was, however, the first to notice that the outbreak was approaching, as well as being the one to conclude things about them, such as their lack of reaction to anything except for sound. This makes him the group's main strategist, but he's shown competence with certain firearms and close-range weapons, as well. It's known that he's searching for the members of his group, desperately wanting to think they're still alive.

Name: Shuichi Saihara

Talent: Ultimate Detective

Height: 5'7

Weight: 128 lbs

Birthday: September 7th

Blood Type: AB

Likes: Novels

Dislikes: Gossip

Former High School: Spring Field Academy

Bio: Shuichi, while assisting his second cousin, Kyoko, and her husband, Makoto, in running the Hope's Peak orientation from behind the scenes, as well as being in attendance on record, was separated from Kyoko in the midst of the outbreak and longs to know if she is still alive. However, he's grown close to Kaede Akamatsu and Kokichi Ouma, and relies on them the most heavily with the truth of how he's afraid for his uncle and parents, in turn, despite his lack of closeness with the latter.

Name: Korekiyo Shinguji

Talent: Ultimate Anthropologist

Height: 6'2

Weight: 143 lbs

Birthday: July 31st

Blood Type: O

Likes: Straw Rope

Dislikes: Air Conditioning

Former High School: Sunset Hill High School

Bio: Korekiyo had been attending the orientation at Hope's Peak High when the outbreak occurred, and he had gotten trapped in the chemistry lab with his sister. He refuses to speak of what happened in there, nor what happened to his sister, but the group is aware that he struggles with whatever it was to this day.

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writing-rat · 1 year

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Pride Riot

Summary: Robin and Nancy go to a broadcasted pride

There was a pride in Indiana. At first, Nancy was nervous about it as she knew her father would watch the news on it but Robin invited her. She couldn’t say no to Robin, since Robin had her puppy dog eyes on. She just couldn’t resist them at this point of their relationship.

This led to the date of their pride, and she was in her room pacing, unaware Robin walked in. “You ok sweetheart?” Robin asked her curiously, tilting her head. “Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Nancy said then looked down, shaking her head. “No… no I’m not. I’m nervous, my dads gonna know,” she admitted. Robin looked at her with gentle eyes. “We don’t have to go,” she said gently but Nancy shook her head. “You want to go… it’s just… it’s just me with my inner homophobia. My dad also watches the news where it will be showcased and if he sees me…” Nancy explained, trying to not offend Robin. Robin sympathetically smiled and nodded. “Why don’t we own it to your dad? Where’d that badass Wheeler inside you?” Robin smirked out, trying to encourage Nancy.

Nancy thought about it, then the usual Nancy determination came out from her eyes. She smirked then nodded as she was grabbing her usual Emerson shirt, a pair of shorts that were originally Robin’s and one of Robin’s other flannels. Meanwhile, Robin watched her and smiled as she was admiring her girlfriend. Robin herself was wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, and a tank top that was white, which Nancy had to admit made Robin smoking hot. Once Nancy was ready, she did a little breathing exercise before she looked determined. “I’m driving?” Nancy asked smirking, joking about how it was the usual. “You know it Nance,” Robin said grinning. “Ok, come on birdie, let’s get to the car now,” Nancy answered back, then rushed downstairs with her after grabbing her car keys. She was holding her hand while doing so with a smile.

They reached the car with minimal interruption as Ted didn’t bother looking at them, instead grumbling about how the pride parades were ruining the country and that it wasn’t America anymore. He hadn’t noticed his own daughter was holding a girls hand in a definitely romantic way, while Karen did notice. She smiled at both the girls apologetically and left them to go their merry way, she had assumed where they would be after all. Once they were both in, they let out little laughs and were starting to drive. “Your dads oblivious,” Robin remarked, eyes wide with shock and humour. “Oh, I know, he doesn’t know anything. Confirmed it for my mom now,” she said laughing as she drove over to the town where the parade was being held. Meanwhile, Robin was starting to look over at Nancy’s plain white shoes. “Why are you staring at my feet weirdo?” Nancy joked laughing. “Can I have your shoes for a second?” Robin asked. Nancy raised an eyebrow but nodded as she handed over her shoes. She started to drive again, not trying to focus on Robin knowing it would cause danger if so.

Once she parked up after a 30 minute drive, she looked over and was confused what Robin was doing when she noticed Robin was drawing over her shoes with Nancy’s interests. “Without consent huh?” Nancy joked as she wasn’t mad about that pair being ruined, they were old anyway. “Sorry, I just thought they were boring unlike these red vans,” Robin enthusiastically remarked. She then showed off all her drawings for Nancy. There were guns, books and also some sayings. There was also some phrases like ‘Buckley’s Girl’,’Tiddiez’and also ‘A friend of Dorothy’. Nancy looked at them and was shocked before she grinned and put her shoes on. “I love them! Thanks babe!” Nancy thanked profusely, before kissing Robin, holding her cheeks softly. Robin equality wrapped her arms around Nancy’s neck and has her eyes closed as she was rubbing her back.

Soon they pulled apart and got out as they were both blushing, and both their lips had a bit of redness due to Robin’s lipstick. “Ok birdie, lead the way,” Nancy said and held Robin’s hand proudly as she was feeling herself starting to get dragged. Robin was pulling her quickly as she was having that raw excitement in her eyes. They were soon with the other queer people as they were chatting away, while holding hands. That’s when the parade started, and they were walking with everyone, holding hands while kissing each other affectionately. They were kissing on lips, foreheads, cheeks and hands as they were being sappy with each other. Nancy and Robin were having a good time when Robin stumbled over a brick on the ground.

“What are you planning?” Nancy asked cautiously, seeing that planning look on Robin’s face. Robin was looking over at Nancy as she shrugged innocently before she took the brick and put it in her pocket. “Just a little souvenir,” Robin shrugged again before she was starting to hold Nancy’s waist and kissed her. Nancy smiled during the kiss as she pressed up closer, and was holding Robin’s shoulders. She didn’t realise they were being recorded by the news as they were soon walking again and flipped off the camera.

It had been a few hours and they were back in Hawkins. She wasn’t surprised to see on the movie theatre sign ‘Nancy The Dyke’ with ‘Robin also a dyke’ on the other side. She rolled her eyes as she was going to her house as she wanted Robin to spend the night. “I don’t have pyjamas,” Robin said as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “As if that doesn’t make a difference… you usually sleep in boxers and your sports bras you leave here~” Nancy retorted with a smirk. Robin blushed, knowing the implication as she was nodding. Her breathing did hitch. Nancy was soon parked up at her house as she got out, rushing over to Robin’s side and opened the door for her. Robin grinned as she was blushing and held her hand as they walked inside, the brick still weighing down her jeans. In fact she had to keep pulling them up. “Nancy Marie Wheeler,” Ted’s voice boomed out. Nancy froze but she held Robin’s hand as she was walking in, locking her car up. “You are out,” Ted stated, his face showing emotions that were never seen. “Excuse me, you can’t kick out your only daughter because of who she loves,” Karen intervened. “Yeah. I’m still me, just happier because I found the love of my life,” Nancy talked back as Robin looked over shocked, but with a smile as she was nodding. “Yeah. Nance was unhappy with the boys, she found herself, she’s happier and she’s my girlfriend!” Robin started to ramble before Nancy kissed her and held her face gently. “Calm down,” Nancy mumbled then ignored her dad as she dragged Robin upstairs. The argument between Karen and Ted was heard for an hour before the familiar stomps of Ted was heard. Ted then knocked on the door, interrupting Nancy and Robin from their make out session. With marks all over Nancy’s neck and lips bruised, she opened the door. “I’m sorry…” was all Ted said before he walked away. Nancy knew it was genuine so she called out,”it’s fine!” She smiled and went over to Robin after locking the door. “Now let’s have some fun~” Nancy said sultrily before she had Robin pinned.

#ronance fanfiction #robin buckley #ronance #nancy wheeler #ratboy writes #ratboy writing

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crazyk-imagine · 2 years

Text

Chapter V: You Decide

Characters: Sulane “Sullie” Celeste, Jasner ""Jas" Verbane, James Diamond, Kendall Knight, Carlos Garcia, Hortense "Logan" Mitchell, Camille Roberts, Jo Taylor, Gustavo Roque, Kelly Wainwright, Katie Knight, Freight Train, Griffin Warnings: Shenanigans, the boys being in "love", Sulane saving the day... again, bad drama like stupid drama, James showing signs he still wants his girl, Sulane making friends, Gustavo showing his love for our fav blonde girl Word Count: 4,559

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She doesn’t say much as they walk back to the Palm Woods, only offering a quick one worded answer, if necessary. She can’t stop thinking about the letters and how she’s had them the whole time.

Part of her wants to throw the guitar case away to get rid of the anger she holds for her mother along with the slowly disappearing anger she’s had for the boys. But nothing can change the shock she feels.

The gang set up camp in the living room of the boys’ apartment.

Carlos taking over the bottom of the slide, with his helmet on.

Kendall and Logan fighting over who gets the other side of the couch while James and Jasner sit and search for a movie.

Sulane takes a pillow, holding it as she sits on the couch, zoning out.

Once they’re all settled in their “zones”, Katie and Mama Knight left to their own sleeping area.

Barely a half hour into the movie, James and Carlos are the first to pass out. Logan put up a fight but then things got weird because he somehow started sleeping with his eyes open.

“How can he do that?” Jasner asks.

“How should I know?” Sulane answers him.

The raspberry lover shrugs, “I don’t know. Has he done this before?”

“We’re all usually asleep and not seeing if anyone is sleeping with their eyes open. So, I’m gonna go with no.”

“Could you sound crankier, Kendall? Take a nap or something.”

“But then I’d miss the rest of the movie,” he argues with her.

“Write down where you left off and watch it again tomorrow.”

The leader whines. “That’s too much work.”

“I’m this close to kicking you off the couch.”

“Your fingers are touching.”

“Exactly.”

He grumbles and flops over on the floor, leaving his back turned toward the two.

“Baby.”

Kendall reaches up without looking and smacks her knee.

“You know what we didn’t get to see today,” Jasner thinks out loud.

“What?”

“You ripping off his soul patch.”

She groans, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Do you think it was real?”

“I’m gonna say no. He looked like he had a baby face in his new band.”

“Oh, yeah. I see it now.”

Some time passes and she can’t stop thinking about the letters she found.

“Hey, Jas-” She sighs seeing the boy now passed out, like the others. She slowly exits the teenage boy dog pile sleeping area and sits down beside the island on the floor with her guitar case sitting in front of her, closed.

Part of her wants to open it and read the letters but the other part thinks she should leave it alone, what’s happened in the past can’t be changed but she’s doing good at changing the future.

At least, she hopes she is.

She gulps and slowly pops open the case, carefully lifting the lid.

A few of the letters fall on top of the guitar, she reaches for them and opens the first one on top. The date in the corner shows it was three weeks after she moved to the Palm Woods.

Sulane didn’t finish all the letters as her head droops. She’s tired after everything that happened and knows she should sleep. She refolds the letter she was reading and closes the guitar case, setting it where she left it before to get whatever sleep she can.

Even though she was the last one to fall asleep she’s the first one to wake up and get ready.

“Oh,” Mama Knight says. “You’re up.” She wasn’t expecting any of them to be up right now.

“Yeah. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I- uh- I found something and my curiosity got the better of me.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay today?”

The teen girl smiles at her caring nature. “Yeah.”

The older woman smiles, “do you want any breakfast while you wait for the boys to wake up?”

“Not yet.”

She nods, moving around the kitchen getting everything ready for when the boys wake up.

Sulane takes a seat at the counter and starts working on her homework that’s due in a few days having a feeling that today she won’t be able to get ahead… or maybe something else will come up and she’ll procrastinate.

“Why can’t they be like you and work on their homework when they have the time instead of playing video games.”

“They’re teenage boys.”

The mother sighs, “yeah, I know.”

S01 EP 05

Kendall’s the first to get up from the pool chair. “What time is it?”

The other three pop up beside him, all four put their sunglasses on. “It’s girl time.”

Sulane stays seated as she watches the four make fools of themselves. “Why?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this on animal planet before.”

She turns to her friend who’s snacks on a bag of popcorn he made before they dragged him outside. “Good one.”

They high five.

“Shouldn’t you be at an audition?”

“They pushed it back to later today.”

She knows that’s not true. “Do you know your lines?”

An offended scoff escapes him before he starts coughing. “I’m… fine,” he assures her with his voice now sounding hoarse. He grabs the water bottle he brought with him (for this exact thing) and drinks half of it before answering her. “I’m gonna go with Camille and see what happens. And I do to know my lines.”

Sulane hums.

“Talk to us when you get in the top ten,” Jennifer one tells the boys.

“But not before,” Jennifer three adds.

The Jennifers walk in front of the two.

“Hey, Sullie,” Jennifer three greets her.

“Don’t talk to it,” Jennifer one grabs three’s arm and tries to drag her away.

Sulane pushes past the boys. “If you wanted it then you should have chosen it before I did.”

“That doesn’t excuse you for choosing to write about the Ralph Lauren when we specifically chose him.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know which is why I asked Miss Collins if we could switch or write about him as a group. Which clearly tells me that no one had talked to you three yet so, if you’re gonna hold a grudge against me over this minor inconvenience then-”

“Come by our desks after class so we can get started on our paper,” Jennifer two intervenes.

“Fine but don’t expect me to do all of the work.”

“You won’t,” Jennifer one assures her.

“Okay. See you guys later then.”

The three smile, “see you later, Sullie.”

And they’re gone.

“Why can’t they ever be nice to us?” Carlos grumbles under his breath.

The blonde smiles, knowing her friend’s plans are ruined. “Looks like you won’t have to wait too long.”

“Damn,” Jasner mutters.

The brunette stops in front of Kendall, using him as her target today.

He holds in any screams of pain but that doesn’t stop his silent cry.

“How could you? With my mom in the hospital, and my huge fight with my best friend, and my zit?” Camille says with an extra dramatic flair.

Jasner hops off the couch, shaking the brunette’s arms. “No, you don’t get to talk me to like that, Amandria. I’m the one going through bigger problems.” He takes a deep breath. “I just caught my mother having an affair… with the pool boy and her accountant.”

They both gasp, leaning their heads against each other, pretending that they’re staring at the camera.

“Degrassi audition?” The boys ask.

“Wish us luck,” she says, grabbing the raspberry lover and dragging him away.

“Ow,” Kendall whines, rubbing his other cheek.

“At least your even.”

“Not helping, Sullie.”

“Simms twins,” Carlos points out.

The boys’ gasp.

“Too risky.” James places a hand on Carlos’ chest, stopping him from moving any further. “They get pretty upset if you get their names wrong.”

The corndog lover places his helmet on his head, patting it before going into “battle.” “Hello, ladies,” Carlos greets them.

“What’s my name?” The Simms twin on the left asks, squinting her eyes as if she’s daring the boy to answer her.

He pauses, not wanting to say the wrong name and also because he doesn’t want to die at the hands of the cute twins. Kendall shakes his head, waving his hands to stop him. “Uh… Mandy?”

After they beat him up, they growl. “Sandy,” the three say. And the twins walk away.

“You girls should be honored to be mistaken for each other,” Sulane shouts at the two.

The girls pause, not turning around.

“It means you’re both beautiful girls who should honored to be mistaken for one another.”

The girls shrug and continue on with their day.

The girl shrugs when she sees the guy’s weird looks. “They were gonna fight if I didn’t interfere.”

The boys plop down onto the chairs. Kendall takes his sunglasses off. “Why can’t there be a nice, sweet, nice girl at the Palm Woods?”

“Because you scare them off with your pheromones.”

They ignore her and continue dreaming about their nice dream girl.

“Somebody not crazy or stuck up. That’s still really hot,” James says.

“That’s the pheromones again.”

“From North Carolina,” Logan adds.

“Yeah, I’m leaving,” Sulane packs up her stuff, leaving the four to drool bye themselves.

“Well, it’s not really North Carolina but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay here,” Bitters announces, showing the new girl and her family around. “Let me show you to your apartment.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling at the new girl, opening her mouth to greet her until the new girl bumps into her.

“Oh, sorry,” the new girl apologizes.

“It’s okay. I should have been paying better attention to where I was going.” Sulane notices the piece of luggage on the ground. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” she smiles, holding out her hand. “I’m Jo.”

“Sulane Celeste, most people call me Sullie.”

“I love your name.”

“Thanks. Once you settle into your place, come find me and I’ll show you around.”

“Or you could help me find my place?”

The teen shrugs.

“I think my dad and the manager walked too far ahead of me.”

“Key.” She turns the key over to read room number. “Okay, and if you’ll just follow me then we can get you situated in your dump.”

“What?” Jo nervously chuckles.

“The apartments aren’t the nicest things ever but once you do some minor decorating, you’ll be fine, and it’ll be a livable place.”

“Oh. Good to know.”

“Although there are rules on how you’re allowed to decorate but you’ll be fine as long as you have me by your side.”

“I don’t know if I should be scared of you or not.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I don’t doubt that and thank you again for helping me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sulane shoves Carlos back into the pool and James onto his pool chair.

All four keep their eyes on the two girls.

They all start shouting, “she’s mine!”

“What was that?”

“Ignore them. They’re idiots.”

They fight and struggle to walk closer to them.

“Excuse me for just one second. You stay here.” Sulane walks back, Tyler pops up out of the trash can, holding a water gun for her. “Thanks, Tyler.” She stands a few feet from the boys. “Anybody want to try and get past me?”

They don’t stop until she sprays them. “No! Bad dogs! No!”

“You’re not Gustavo, you can’t use that nickname,” Carlos whines before jumping back into the pool.

The others follow in suit, thinking it’s better than being sprayed.

- Ah, ah, ah-ah, ooh -

“Today we are gonna sing a love song. It’s a slow song about love,” Gustavo explains.

“The record company wants one of your demo songs to be a ballad,” Kelly adds.

“Okay, does anybody else notice the huge guy in the corner?” Kendall asks.

Sulane rummages through the studio for the tape they accidentally made last night, not wanting Gustavo or anyone else to find it since they agreed she wouldn’t be one of his clients. She clicks on the speaker button, “kinda hard not to. How you doing, FT?”

“I’m doing good, thanks for asking.”

She smirks, sticking her tongue out at the boys.

“That is Freight Train, my new executive in charge of making people do what I say.”

The large man then proceeds to punch the wall.

“Was that really necessary for him to do? I think his height is more than enough to scare the boys, Gustavo.”

The producer points to her. “You shush!”

“He should at least get an x-ray.”

“Shush!”

“He needs his hands to keep them here.” He turns, muttering to his new hire that he should indeed get an x-ray later. “Now, this is a song about when you see a girl for the first time, and you know she’s the one. Do you guys know what I’m talking about?”

They think back to what happened earlier that morning, thinking about the new girl in a way they imagine to be the perfect girl.

At least, until James’ mind shifts and it’s Sulane walking out of the Palm Woods lobby. He turns around smiling when he sees her throw her hands up in frustration.

The three boys start fighting, putting James in the middle of it all.

Gustavo calls for backup and the boys are lifted and set back on their feet.

Carlos gasps, “that was kind of fun.”

The producer sniffs, pulling a disgusted face. “What is that smell?”

The pretty boy pulls out his body spray, “it’s barracuda man spray. We’re-” He takes a breath. “We’re all in love with a girl at the Palm Woods, and this is my edge.”

Sulane thins her lips, wishing she never saw James’ fake infomercial act. “Shouldn’t someone who knows how to use cologne or body spray use it?”

“I know how to use it.”

She tilts her head, “you’re close to smelling like lame lame.”

He gasps, running towards the window, pointing at her. “Take it back.”

She shakes her head.

“Take it back.”

“No.”

“Take. It. Back.”

The boys start fighting and Freight Train hauls them into the sound booth.

“He is really good,” Gustavo mutters, proud of his decision.

Sulane quickly hides the tape in her bag before sitting down on the couch, trying to take a nap until she hears the bad rhythm of the song and James’s sneezing. “Gustavo-”

“I know! I know!” Kelly does her best to ease Gustavo’s annoyance before he asks his new hire to take them away.

Kendall happily hops into Freight Train’s arms as they tease James.

“You,” the produce gestures for Sulane to sit. “Stay.”

She grumbles under her breath. “Yes, boss?”

“You can drop the act. What did I hear on this tape?”

She gulps. “Your… amazing creativity.”

“Sucking up is your go to move right now?”

“If you have the tape then take,” she takes the one she took out of her bag, “back.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a pop star.”

“I don’t.”

“This right here,” he turns up the volume. “Is pop star material.”

“So?”

“Let me make you a contract. Griffin, might actually like it more if you sang than be my assistants assistant.”

“I am not a pop star that was me releasing my stress.”

“You should release more stress. It’d make you money.”

“Seriously?”

“What?” He shrugs, “you can crack jokes, but I can’t.”

She rolls her eyes, “maybe in another life, I’ll be a pop star.”

“It’s gonna happen.”

“Nope, I’m taking your job.”

“That’s not funny!” He shouts as she walks through the door. “Although you’d do a good job at it,” he mumbles under his breath.

Sulane sits down next to Jo.

“Hey, you’re here,” Jo greets her.

Sulane smiles, “so are you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to make a song sound better and make a company money.”

“Are you an agent?”

The girl chuckles, “no, why?”

“You sound like an agent or… a producer?”

A wide smile tugs at the corner of Sulane’s lips, “I’m starting to really like you, Jo.”

“Thanks.”

“They’re bonding,” Logan whispers in his British accent.

“We can see that,” Kendall says, with a deadpan expression.

“Then you know, this might not be good, governor.”

“Would quite it with the accent?”

“Never!”

“Hey, do you want to head inside? It’s starting to get a little hot and my smoothie isn’t a smoothie anymore,” Jo asks.

Sulane sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. I feel like I’m melting.”

Sulane turns her head as soon as Carlos pops out from behind the front desk. “No,” she shakes her head. “Ignore him,” she tells Jo, watching as he sits in the chair like a “bad boy”. “He’s insane and just escaped from his safe room.”

Jo chuckles, “I’m sure that’s not true.” She turns to face Carlos, “hi, I’m Jo.”

Carlos nods.

“Cool jacket.” She gasps, “oh, are you going for the bad boy role in magic middle school? I mean, it’s a really strong roll but I hate bad boys in real life.”

The boy lowers his sunglasses.

“I mean, why so angry all the time?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I know Sullie told me but, I’m bad when it comes to learning names after hearing them once.”

Carlos starts panicking, mumbling nonsense under his breath before he answers with a fake name in a British accent.

“How exciting. Oh, my family visits there every year. What part of England are you from?”

And he’s gone.

Jo stares him confused, turning to get some answers from her friend only to find her red faced as she holds in her laughter. “Do you know what that was about?”

The teen girl nods, unable to give her a verbal response as she continues to laugh. Sulane catches her breath and takes a minute to make sure she can answer her. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. What’s going on with your friends?”

“Well, you see, Jo. These things happen when a boy is trying give off his pheromones.”

“Would it kill her to stop using the word pheromones?” Kendall asks the boys, stopping Logan from getting up to quickly to shoot “his” shot with the new girl.

“Obviously, it would with how much she’s using it,” Logan adds and hops off the ground, straightening his collar as he heads over to the girls.

“Pheromones?” Jo repeats, with her nose scrunched.

“Yep, they all like you and want to ask you out. I recommend using the “I have a boyfriend” card.”

“Even the ones who stare at you?”

Sulane furrows her brows, “who?”

Jo’s interrupted by Camille slapping the brainiac’s cheek.

The non-actor starts clapping which may or may not be because she just ruined Logan’s chance to impress Jo. “That was even better than last time, Camille.”

The girl smiles, “thanks. Oh, Jas said not to wait up for study group tonight. He’s going on another audition.”

“Okay.”

“So, that wasn’t real?”

“The kissing I’m sure they both enjoyed but, the whole “insert name here”-”

“Rachel.”

“The whole thing with Rachel and destroying anyone, all one hundred percent fake... I think. She’s also an actress."

"Oh, cool.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Yeah?” Jo asks, re-reading through the script.

“Do you want to go get a slushie?”

“Yes, please. I need to take a break from this. Are you gonna get licorice too?”

“Why?” Sulane slowly asks.

“You have a “I like licorice” vibe about you.”

The teen girl places a hand on her chest, “thank you.”

The two girls stand in the doorway of the lobby debating on if they should sit inside or outside. “My cabana’s open.” She grabs Jo’s hand. “Come on.”

The two sit down, Jo continues skimming through the script while Sulane works on her homework… that’s a lie.

She’s procrastinating (but it’s okay because she’s ahead by three days) and is trying to figure out what’s wrong with the song. “The lyrics are good, but the speed and tempo is off. No,” she points to him. “Go away, Kendall. We’re busy, find someone else to flirt with.”

He gives her a look and continues. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jo smiles at him.

“I just wanted to welcome you to the Palm Woods. I’m Kendall, and uh-”

Freight Train lifts him up.

“This looks weird, right? Uh, we can continue this conversation when my friend Freight Train puts me down.”

“Oh my god!” Sulane stands up, shoving everything back into her bag. “I got it!” She turns to the actress. “Sorry, Jo. Duty calls and I’m gonna be saving the day, again.”

She chuckles, “that’s okay. Thank you so much for hanging out with me today, it really meant a lot.”

“No problem. Once Camille is done with her auditions, we’ll have a girl’s day.”

“I’d like that.”

“I know, Cammie would too.” She marches in front of the two. “Onward, peasants!”

“We’ll do this again some time,” Kendall waves at her.

All five walk out of the Palm Woods, the leader and brainiac on Freight Train’s shoulders as the man drags the corn dog lover.

“Okay, Gustavo. My favorite producer.”

“Stop sucking up and get on with it.”

“I know the answer to the song.”

“No.”

“What?”

“This song is perfect just the way it is.”

Sulane plops onto the couch. “I’ll be here waiting and when you come to your senses. I’ll be ready to help you.”

“I don’t need helping!”

“Yelling doesn’t get you far.”

“Yes, it does!”

The boys sing and Gustavo gets upset when James words aren’t clear through his mask.

The girl hops off the couch and reaches for mic. “I wouldn’t trust him. You three got to talk to her and he hasn’t.”

The boys’ glance at one another, wondering why she’s saying that when he clearly likes her… until James teases them and sprays more of his barracuda on before running away.

The three try to escape only for the producer’s new hire to keep them inside.

“I need more time,” Gustavo says, with a deep voice.

“If you would just let me help-”

He points to the control station, “no!”

“You know, she could really help you,” Katie chimes in.

“You there, shush.”

The teen pulls her phone out of her pocket to find Kelly calling. “Yes?”

“Can you go back to the Palm Woods? James is heading there now.”

“Why me?”

“They listen to you.”

She groans, “fine.”

She walks through the front doors, finding no James there and continues till she gets towards the pool area. She sighs, seeing Jo and Camille sitting together as someone who looks an awful lot like her friend standing before them.

She walks closer, rolling her eyes when he sneezes but grows concerned when she hears him scream and says, “what happened to my hands?”

She can’t focus on much as she stares at him, completely shocked with how his body reacted to his body spray. “Oh my god,” she whispers.

James screams again when he sees his face in the brunette’s compact mirror.

The blonde grabs his arm. “Allergy shot time. Come on.”

“I need to call Kelly.”

“I got it just follow me.”

The boys scream when they see him.

The door to the doctor’s office burst open as James barrels through.

Kelly and Sulane follow behind him.

James starts freaking out until the teen rips off the helmet he grabbed (from where, she still doesn’t know) and pulls him in for a brief kiss, giving the doctor enough time to give him a shot.

“That wasn’t that bad,” James says, before falling to the ground.

The girl turns to Kelly with wide eyes. “Why did I do that?”

The older woman fails to give her an answer right away.

“He’s calmed down and that’s what we needed. You helped, okay?”

Sulane checks her phone to see she’s got missed calls from Jo, Camille, and Carlos. “I have to go.”

“Wait- no.” Kelly sighs.

Sulane burst the lobby doors to find Logan singing. She rushes over to guitar dude and pulls out her guitar. “Match my speed?”

“You got it.”

She smiles until she turns around and finds the boys fighting. “Hey!”

They stop.

“Listen to the music and sing the song. We need to speed it up.”

“Are you sure?” Kendall asks.

“Trust me.”

They don’t start right away.

Sulane purses her lips. “Any kind a guy you want, girl. That’s the guy I’ll be.”

They finally start chiming in when she needs them too and it’s perfect.

“Yes, come on-” She sighs when she looks up, understanding why they sound so good… they’re still fighting but that’s not stopping her.

And then Jo stops the fighting and tells them she has a “boyfriend”.

Sulane starts cackling because she knows Jo took her advice.

“Shut up, Sullie,” they sigh.

“No, that was amazing!”

The teen smiles, “thanks for finally acknowledging-”

“I know what this song is.”

“Oh, no. He’s still going.”

“It’s not a slow love song; it’s a fast love song.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Shush. Katie. Do not finish that report until I finish this song.”

“You mean, Sullie because she is technically the one who figured it out first.”

“Fine. Freight Train, to the studio.” Gustavo tries to hop in his new hire’s arms only for it to not work out the way he wanted it to and is now sprawled out on the floor.

The boys are quick to help him. Sulane looks up to see Jo with her hands up in defense, Camille probably told her that she’s claimed Logan as hers but then, the new girl turns to look at her and nods.

The teen furrows her brows, wondering what Camille told her.

Griffin walks in. “Scary girl.”

“Griffin.”

“I’m gonna sit now.”

The boys start singing and Katie shoves his arm when the man shows no reaction to the song because, even she can admit, that it’s good.

Sulane is ready to step in when the man gives the producer the green light and approves of the song. Now she chimes in when Griffin is admitting he still wants a slow love song. “And we will make that happen but sometimes the slow songs come later. I just- I don’t know about the word “baby” though.”

“Fine, try to use the word. If you can’t, then I guess I’ll understand. Goodbye, scary girl.”

“Later, Griffin.”

“You forgot to write “I’m amazing”,” Gustavo tells Katie.

“That’s because I wrote Sullie is amazing.”

“What?” Katie gestures to the five of you jumping up and down. “She’s the one who figured it out and helped you with writing your future love song.”

“Fine, she’s amazing.” The producer, Katie, and Kelly smile because they know it’s true.

The boys can’t speak as the latest arrival to the Palm Woods speaks to them.

“No,” the teen shakes her head. “Keep walking.”

Katie fights the urge to chuckle and tells the new girl where the gym is.

Sulane curls her index finger and thumb, whistling at the boys as they fight to follow her. “No.”

“Why not?” Carlos whines.

“No.”

“I’d listen to her if I were you.”

“Thanks Jas.”

“No problem.”

Previously: Chapter IV // Continue: Chapter VI

#big time rush #Big Time Rush Fanfiction #Big Time Rush fanfic #big time rush imagine #big time rush imagines #james diamond #james diamond imagine #james diamond imagines #james diamond fanfic #james diamond fanfiction #james diamond x oc #james diamond x ofc #james diamond x sulane celeste #it's you

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annemiek19 · 2 years

Text

Opening up - Jay Halstead

You and Jay had been working together for years and have even been dating for a few months. In all the time you had known him, he barely spoke about his time in the army. You never pushed it, but something’s you wished he would talk about it. Jay was now undercover where he was trying to get into business with Luis, who also went to the army. You and Antonio were sitting in a van, listening and watching what was happening with Jay. He was currently sitting in Luis his home, drinking a beer.

“Hell of a lot that died that didn’t sign up, you know? Kids, the women,” Luis said.

“Yeah, kids are the worst,” Jay mumbled. “I still see this, uh… this eight-year-old girl. I have nightmares about her. Beautiful face, dark skin.” You could hear the pain in his voice.

“Eight?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s young.”

“Yeah. My nine, it went through a combatant, and then it went through a doorway, and it ripped open her neck. She didn’t die right away, though. Now, if I slow down, I see her. And I see all of it. I see the valley. I see the kids, dogs.” Jay took another sip of his drink.

“For me, it’s a 17-year-old,” Luis said. “Kid used to kick it with us. Town leaders killed him with an IED. Nobody wanted to touch him after, so I scooped up the pieces. Used a trash bag. Ain’t never gonna leave us, man.”

The conversation got caught short because Luis his phone rang. “Hey. Your friend Ryan is here. He said he was supposed to meet you.”

You looked at Antonio; this wasn’t going in the right direction.

“Okay. See you then.” Luis got up from the chair, and you could see the pissed look on his face.

“Should we pull him?” you asked Antonio.

“No, let it play out.”

“You were supposed to meet Camila tonight? At the apartment?”

Jay nodded.

“How come she didn’t know that?”

“Cause I didn’t tell her. Man, I was gonna show up. Be all vulnerable, charming. She was gonna love it. I ended up talking about all this depressing crap with your ugly ass.”

The two guys laughed about it.

“I should get going, though,” Jay said as he stood up. “Look, man. If you ever need something to like take the edge off, I got you covered.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“With what?”

“Right now all I got on me is some Oxy.”

“Yeah? How much you want for it?” Luis was way more eager than you expected.

“No, man. It’s on the house.” Jay got the bag with pills out of his pocket and gave it to Luis, but just pulled the bag away before he handed it to him. “If you set me up with your private security buddy.”

“You know I don’t really do private security, right?”

“Man, I don’t care. I just need a job. Some excitement. I’m gonna lose my damn mind. Come on.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. Deal.”

Jay gave Luis the pills and then left the house. You packed the van up and drove back to the station. You there put all the stuff away and headed home.

Jay was already there when you arrived. He was sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. You walked over to him and sat down next to him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. You pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered. You knew it couldn’t have been easy for him to talk about his time in the army. You didn’t want to tell him that.

“I love you too,” Jay whispered back.

You pulled back and looked at him, slightly smiling at him.

“To what do I owe all this love you’re giving me?” Jay asked with a playful smile on his face.

“You know…”

Jay put his beer on the table and turned sideways so you were now facing each other.

“I know it couldn’t have been easy to talk about it. And I know you don’t want to talk about it now, which is okay. I love you all the same. I just wanted to hug you and tell you that I love you. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it.” Jay grabbed your hand.

“I only have one question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why haven’t I seen you experience a nightmare?”

Jay looked at your hands, slowly rubbing his thumb against your hand. “Sometimes you’re deep asleep, which is not often. But most of the time, it happens when you’re not here. Or when I don’t fall asleep next to you.”

“And it’s always about the little girl?”

“Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes it’s a version of what happened, or sometimes it’s completely different.”

“Thanks for telling me,” you said.

“Now, let’s head to bed because we have another long day tomorrow,” Jay said. He stood up from the couch and walked to the bedroom. You followed him. You got ready for bed, and Jay pulled you close to him when you laid down.

“I love you,” you said again.

“I love you too.”

#imagine #one shot #jay halstead #jesse lee soffer one shot #jay halstead one shot #one chicago #chicago pd #jesse lee soffer #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd one shot #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x y/n

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

( PREVIOUS | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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p4lparker · 3 years

Text

Part of the Pack

The aggressive alpha threw you away as if you weighed nothing, like a broken toy or a floppy rag doll. You felt your body crash into the concrete wall. It crumpled in on itself- nothing felt broken, as far as you knew. Well nothing apart from your pride. Thinking back, you had hoped today would be normal day- or as normal as cold be for you anyhow.

The day had started out normal, well as normal as it could when there was a new alpha in town hoping to take over the pack. Scott had warned you and so had the others, but you didn’t feel all that scared. You were just a human who ran with wolves- you weren’t supernatural and you definitely weren’t a threat to anyone or anything. Though the rest of the pack felt it necessary to keep tabs on you and Stiles constantly. They would take it in turns ‘hanging out’- which was basically babysitting you to make sure you didn’t put yourselves in danger somehow. Scott had come over and watched movies with Kira and yourself, you all were sat watching Kick Ass- when Scott perked up. Almost like a dog; he quickly sat up and brought Kira with him. You paused the movie- waiting to find out what had caused him to do so.

“Derek’s here..” Scott said, standing up and walking to the door; you followed Kira after. You stood leaning on the wall as Scott opened the door and revealed a brooding Derek. His dark brow furrowed and his face scrunched in a frown- his green eyes glaring at the three of you intently.

“I’ve been calling you for an hour and you didn’t pick up. It’s your turn to patrol the perimeter.. I’m supposed to stay with Y/N.” Derek grunted, he was still glaring- but it was mainly aimed at Scott and Kira, rather than you. You folded your arms and stayed leaning against the jam of the lounge room door. Watching as Scott and Kira collected their things and gave you a sheepish goodbye before dashing through the still open door and to Scott’s parked bike. Derek turned his almost angry gaze to you before nodding his head at the front door. You flustered for a moment before gesturing for him to enter, then closed and locked the door behind him at his instruction. Not that locking it would keep an alpha out or anything- but whatever, you did as the intimidating wolf told you and lead him through the house to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and a can of pop from the fridge, you offered one to him which he gratefully agreed to. Offering him a glass he nodded and allowed you to pour the carbonated refreshment. You both stood in silence as you took sips from the drinks. You shared an awkward smile with Derek, who just nodded at you- not smiling back or giving any emotion away. You gestured for Derek to follow you back to the lounge- sitting down and making yourself comfortable on the sofa once more. You watched as Derek perched himself on the couch- at the other end of it. You started the movie again and allowed yourself to get sucked into watching the movie- trying not to feel on edge, Derek’s tense body and stoic facial expression was making this situation feel all the more forced.

The movie was almost over, throughout it you’d wriggled and squirmed around the sofa- all the while Derek sat still, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. You’d tried to concentrate on the vigilantism on the screen, you found it difficult to focus; it wasn’t until Derek sat up even straighter, as if that was possible. He lifted his head and glared at the ceiling, your eyes following his. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. You watched half amused half confused as he stood and walked out of the lounge room and to the stairs of the building. All the while still sniffing at the air. Following behind him as he began to trek up the stairs, through the hall and sniffing at each door until he stopped in front of one. Yours. He sniffed deeply, before rearing back. When he finally turned to face you, you could tell something was bothering him.

"Have you left your window unlocked?" His voice gruff and demanding. You looked at him in surprise. Shaking your head quickly.

"No! Everywhere is locked up tight, like you and Scott and everyone else had ordered.." You muttered, glaring alternatively between your feet and Derek's leather clad back. All you heard in return was a grunt, before you bedroom door was roughly pushed open; the handle slamming against the pale walls and probably leaving a dent or a mark or something. Derek stalked around the room still sniffing, until he found himself standing under the sky light. The access to the roof, the wide opening window didn't work though- it wouldn't lock, so your dad nailed it shut. Derek jumped up from the floor and onto your bed, boots and all. As he stared intently at the big window above him. You watched, from your position by the door as his eyes flickered blue.

"The window is broken." Was all he uttered, the anger present in his voice.

"Yeah, it always has been.. My dad nailed it shut years ago. It wouldn't lock or anything.." You stated, shrugging your shoulders.

"No. The glass. It's broken. It's like its been lifted from the surround. And put back." Derek growled, eyes narrowing as he glared at you.

"Meaning what?" You asked, terror seeping into your words that you couldn't control. You were sure, Derek could hear how fast your heart was beating even without his wolf hearing. The tension in the room and your bodies built.

"Meaning, I don't know how long the alpha may have been coming in here. Meaning I don't think you're safe here.." Derek answered. His eyes narrowed still, but holding worry in their green depths. "C'mon." He grunted. Stalking towards you and gripping your upper arm. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, he walked out the room not even closing the door- dragging you with him as he practically ran down the stairs and out the front door. He came to a stop just short of the road, you not realising he'd stopped slammed into his back. Wincing as you nose bumped into the leather was wearing, you stumbled back and lifted your free hand to your nose checking for blood. Derek let go of your arm and glanced over his shoulder at you, dark brows drawn together. He moved towards your neighbours car, looking around him suspiciously. Raising his elbow and slamming it into the drivers side window, you shrieked. Dashing over to him quickly and gripping his arm through his jacket. Through the thick material did nothing to hide or disguise his tensed muscles. It took a moment for you to shake yourself to move your brain back to what the issue at hand was.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You demanded, trying to tug his arm away from the broken glass- he was slowly moving his elbow to knock the remaining pieces from the frame.

"I'm stealing your neighbours car. Get in." Derek replied, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Once the frame was clear of any sharp shards, he put his hand through and pulled the lock up. You heard the click as the internal locking mechanism worked. Opening the door, Derek threw himself into the drivers seat and waited impatiently for you to copy him. Groaning to yourself, you dashed around the front of the car and got in. Staring at Derek as he was fiddling with some wiring under the steering wheel. In a moments notice, you were off. Driving down the road quickly, Derek not really paying all that much attention to the road; he wriggled around awkwardly for a moment before pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. He looked sparingly at the road before dialling someone's number. You watched the scenery pass, you were in the warehouse district. Full of concrete walls and steel roofs.

"The alpha's been in her room. She needs to leave..." Was all he managed to get out before he was slamming the brakes on. Both of your bodies being jarred forwards, your seat belts yanking you back into the cushioned seats.

Breathing heavily as you tried to gather your bearings, you stared straight ahead of you in terror. There in the middle of the road was a great hulking beast. It was black and huge, making Peter's alpha wolf form look like a kitten in comparison. Derek stared ahead also, sizing the creature up. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, the beast was pounding towards the stopped vehicle. Derek thinking quickly tried to put the car in reverse, but the beast just came at a quicker speed. It charged towards you on all fours and once it was close enough- it stood on two feet, reaching its clawed hands out and ripping the hood of the car to shreds. The scraping of metal made you cringe, but what petrified you was the fact that the engine was destroyed, and there was no chance for you to escape. The creature sauntered round the car, it ripped off the door on you side and snagged you from the opening. You screamed. Derek flustered with his seat belt before he leapt from the destroyed vehicle. It didn't take long for you to realise that he was in full wolf form, but you also resigned yourself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to save you. He stood no chance against the monstrosity holding you captive in its sharp claws- you struggled to breath.

Your throat being constricted dangerously as you were held captive. You watched through bleary and unfocused eyes as Derek launched himself from the car; his eyes shining a bright blue, claws protruding from his hands and fuzzy hair clumping on the sides of his face as his face contorted into that of his wolf form. He dashed towards where the Alpha had you clasped, he started throwing slashes here and there. Desperately trying to free you from the monster. Though, the alpha did little more than seat Derek away as if he were nothing more than a fly. Derek didn't give up though, he kept coming- attacking again every time he got thrown back. You could feel your breathing becoming more laboured as the claws tightened. You felt the darkness calling to you like an old friend. You hadn't noticed that the rest of the pack; Malia, Isaac, Scott, Kira and Alison all joining Derek in trying to rescue you. Your eyes had fallen shut, and you felt consciousness slipping away. It wasn't until you felt someone stroking hair from your face gently, did you wake up. Peeking your eyes open to see Alison kneeling next to you- she smiled down at you as consciousness came back to your aching body.

“She’s okay guys.. but she needs moving. Like yesterday.” Alison stated as she helped to pull you up into a sitting position- you winced slightly, pain radiating from your ribs causing you to freeze. You looked to Alison, who frowned and prodded gently at your ribs; she shook her head.

“And I think she has either some cracked or broken ribs from the awkward way she’s moving..” Alison muttered, pulling you even more gently into a sitting and then standing position- in a slow but sure manner, she kept her arm supporting you. The rest of the group nodded, moving around you. It was then you took notice of them; they were all battered and bruised, deep angry looking gashes on their faces and arms. Your eyes caught sight of Derek who was favouring one arm, it cradled to his chest- which was barely covered by the shirt he had been wearing. It was slashed to smithereens, blood and skin showing through the rags, Alison and Kira helped you stand- staying close until they were sure you were steady on your feet.

“The Alpha’s gone for now. He’s off to lick his wounds. But I have no doubt that he’ll be back and soon. Y/N needs to be somewhere safe and secure- I vote we take her to the old train car.” Isaac stated, mainly directing his words to Derek and Scott who both nodded.

“There’s at least two other scents that’ll mask yours and hers, you should be safe their until we can get rid of this guy… Even if we have to chase him from Beacon- he’s gone.” Scott stated, you didn’t miss the red circling his irises as he spoke. He looked determined, and you knew not to be afraid. Scott was an alpha. He was a true alpha. He was your alpha- even if you weren’t a wolf. And with that the others were off, you looked to Derek still cradling his arm and knew he wouldn’t be able to drive. Looking around, you spotted the demolished car not too far from you- sighing as you had no way of getting to the train car. Derek grunted and nodded his head to the left, you followed him. Hoping he knew where he was going, as you had no idea. You followed as he walked through the maze of practically identical buildings- leading you left and right and left again. Hoping like hell you wouldn’t have to navigate your way out yourself, as you had no chance of remembering and would probably end up living in this concrete jungle like a hermit. Soon enough you were standing in front of the abandoned subway- staring wide eyed as Derek had successfully navigated you both there- you had no idea it was so close, but then you realised that, that was the reason Isaac had suggested it to begin with. If the Alpha’s scent was covering the area, he probably wouldn’t return to it and you’d be safe- or safer. You followed Derek into the abandoned area and shivered. It felt so lonely- you remembered Boyd and Erica, smiling faintly before it slipped off your face all together. Moving further into the abandoned area, you collapsed onto a tattered seat- your eyes roving over all of the graffiti and claw marks that marred the walls. Derek groaned as he too collapsed into a seat. Breathing deeply, through his nose and clenching his jaw. It was then you realised how badly he was injured. His dark features were even darker due to the bruising covering his face, the gashes and slashes in his chest and torso- still bleeding, looked angry and painful. And the awkward angle that he held his arm, showed you he was in bad shape. Pulling yourself up and off the seat- ignoring your screaming muscles, you searched slowly- or as quickly as your sluggish body would allow, for some medical supplies. Knowing that Derek’s old pack must have had something like that lying around.

Your eyes landed on a couple of old shirts that looked similar to the tattered remains on Derek’s shoulders- making your way over to them, grabbing them up and letting your eyes roam over the area- until they landed on a lock box of some sort. Moving towards it, you checked on Derek over your shoulder- he hadn’t moved, you opened it quickly and smiled lightly. There in the box sat a bottle and a half of Jack. Gripping them both and the shirts in your hands before moving back over to him. Kneeling in front of him, you let your eyes scan over his injured body once more. Derek’s eyes flicked open as he felt you pushing his knees apart- allowing you to slip between them and situate yourself more comfortably.

“I-I th-think we need to set your arm first and then deal with the..” You stated and gestured to your own chest, Derek said nothing- just nodding and delicately offering you the obviously broken arm. “You need to tell me how to do this.. I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy plenty.. but I’ve never actually done it..” you spoke quickly the words tumbling from your lips almost of their own accord. He nodded, and grit his teeth as you gently took hold of the broken limb.

“It’s my shoulder.. it’s dislocated- you need to grab hold of my arm and pull as hard as you can. When you hear it click and me scream- you’ve set it back.. Go!” Derek commanded, your eyes were wide as you tried to remember his words. You steadied yourself and pulled as hard as you could like he said. You yanked at his arm- as he growled- pulling as hard as physically possible for you until you heard a loud and sickening click and a scream-like groan fly from his slowly healing lips as well as some more unsavoury curses- you tried to steady your breathing and not let the pain show on your face too much. You let go of his arm and fell back onto your butt, watching as he breathed deeply and a light sweat dotted his forehead. He nodded and gestured to the injuries marring his chest, you too nodded and gripped the bottle of Jack before handing it to him. He raised a brow and chuckled darkly- before shoving it back at you.

“You need it more, besides it won’t do any good for me to drink it. It won’t affect me.” Derek told you, you nodded before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the dark liquid- letting to sweet taste linger in your mouth before swallowing it- then taking another long gulp. Setting it down by Derek’s foot, you kneeled up and gently tried to move the shreds of material away from the affected areas- but having no luck. Derek sighed almost impatiently, before gripping the fabric in his hands and tugging- the material falling away from his glorious chest- injured, but still glorious chest. You held your breath as he shrugged his shoulders, making the material fall to rest around his hips- his torso now bare to your wide eyes. You took hold of the bottle and one of the shirts, lifting both to Derek’s chest. You took a deep breath as you tipped the bottle allowing the liquid to flow down and onto the injuries. He hissed in pain- you moved the shirt and pressed against the wound- he groaned but allowed you to continue the process until you were sure the slashes were cleaned out. You knew though- he wouldn’t heal for a good while, but the treatment you’d given would do for now. Derek nodded his thanks, you smiled shyly at him before gripping the bottle and bringing it to your lips again. Taking a deep swallow you sat back, not realising your eyes had locked with his. The deep green boring into you- you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but a shiver ran down your entire body. Blinking and looking away, you let one hand slip to his thigh and pushed yourself up- still gripping the bottle, you looked over your shoulder when you felt his eyes still on you.

You turned away and took another swallow of the sweet liquid, the burn becoming a comfort now. You hadn’t heard him move until you felt him rest a hand on your shoulder. He span you around so quickly- it felt like the room was spinning around you. The bottle slipped from your lips as you stared wide eyed at him, he stepped you backwards until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the train car. Lifting one of his hands, he gently brushed his fingers against your neck- gasping softly- his fingers sweeping your hair out of the way. One of his hands stayed at your neck, gently poking over the area, whilst the other trailed down your arm and to your hand gripping the bottle- pulling it from your fingers and bringing to his lips taking a swallow himself. Before placing it near your lips offering it to you- you obliged gulping some down, he then moved it down slightly and tipped the contents onto you. Your eyes still staring into each other’s, though yours widened marginally as a stinging pain radiated from you neck.

“Looks like the Alpha got you…” Was all Derek whispered, his eyes not leaving yours as the liquid flowed over the affected are of your skin. You just stood frozen, back to the wall- alcohol dripping down your neck and chest soaking your t-shirt, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you tried to control the raging hormones in your body. All you could think of was that if he leaned just that bit closer- his inviting lips would meet your own. Your body moved of its own accord, pushing forwards slightly. Your lips pushing against his. It wasn’t a kiss, not really- it was just your lips meeting his. And he didn’t push you away- so you pressed against him harder, your wet chest meeting his. Your lips moving with his as the kiss gained momentum and passion. You weren’t sure who’s tongue slipped out first and deepened the kiss, but you were sure it was you who moaned- and you were definitely sure it was Derek who pushed away from you. He stumbled away from you, and you struggled not to giggle at the image. The big bad wolf stumbling away from little old you. A giggle must have slipped out though, because Derek glared at you. He stormed towards you- ceasing the giggles almost immediately. He stopped in front of you. His body flush against yours, glaring eyes boring into you. Before he pushed his lips against yours kissing you furiously. Soon it wasn’t just lips meeting, his teeth were scraping against your bottom lip, and clashing against your own teeth as you opened your mouth.

You moaned again. Not even caring. It felt too good, his toned chest pressed against your own- even through the saturated top, you could feel his body heat, his pecks pressing against you- his muscled abs pressing against your belly. Which felt like it was filling with liquid lava- that seeped solely into your core, giving you a pleasant ache between your legs. Derek pulled back, closing his eyes as he tilted his head and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowing as he stepped back, taking your hand and leading you after him. He stepped backwards until his knees contacted the leather of the seat, he fell back and tugged you with him. Pulling you until you were kneeling on the seat- knees each side of his hips, he pulled on your hand until your chest was hovering over him- leaving you to straddle him in the abandoned train car. He stretched his neck up to graze his lips over the fragile and broken skin of your throat- his stubble creating a delicious friction, before moving to your lips and pulling you into another passionate kiss that sent shivers straight to your core. Derek breathed deeply through his nose and growled- before pulling you down onto his lap. You fell and kissed him more comfortably as your neck wasn’t craning at an awkward angle.

Derek’s hands rested on your hips for a moment, before they ventured upwards- dragging the wet material of your shirt with them. He pulled the soggy shirt up and only separated from your lips to remove it from your body. Tossing it away and pressing his lips back to your own. You let your fingers wander over neck and shoulders feeling the tensing muscles. Derek picked up the discarded bottle of Jack beside him. Pulling from the kiss to take a swig of the booze- before pulling your lips back to his own, you felt the Jack slip into your own mouth before you swallowed it. Derek pulled back from you again and you moaned in disappointment. You were getting sick of him pulling away from you! You watched as his eyes roved over the expanse of your half naked body before him- his fingers lifting to caress over our rubs, causing you to suck in a breath. He frowned before pushing his lips against your own more ferociously than before; and soon enough you were lost in his lips and tongue again. The pain simply disappeared. And when you pulled away from him to watch the blackened veins recede into his skin, you knew he’ deliberately taken your pain. Raising a hand to stroke over his stubble covered cheek- you kissed him gently, before letting him control you once more.

He tipped the bottle over you neck again, you hissing at the sting it brought- until his lips followed the trail. Licking and sucking over any skin that was flavoured with the drink. His lips lingering around your breasts, kissing and suckling at the sensitive ignored area. His hands trailed over your stomach, caressing the skin and tracing down to your hips- where they played with the waistband of your jeans. Fingers moving to unfasten them and tug them over your butt and hips. You stood from his lap and stepped back, catching his eyes and pulling the denim down your legs slowly- his eyes only stared at your partially dressed form. The damp bra still hiding your breasts from him and the dark panties covering your core from his waiting eyes. He leaned forward and tugged on your hand- pulling you back to your spot on his lap. You kissed him solidly, letting your tongue trace over his lips before letting your lips explore. They kissed over his rough cheeks, and down his neck- gently nipping at the stubble covered skin, he groaned loudly- letting his hands grip your hips and pull you down onto his own.

Once you were situated in his lap and still devouring his neck- he moved your hips back and forth- creating a friction that was almost maddening. It was driving you to distraction, and you almost lost focus on kissing as much of his skin as you could. You weren’t sure what it was- but you couldn’t get enough of him, and you needed more. You ground your hips against his and could feel that pooling sensation- though it was more noticeable now, that and there was a stirring within Derek’s pants that had you grinning into the open mouthed kisses you were leaving down his chest, careful to avoid the injuries that were still trying to heal. You let you fingers feel over those delicious abs, before dipping lower; rubbing over the bulge in his jeans, rubbing back and forth until you were desperate for more, moving your shaky fingers down to the button and zipper. Popping one and tugging the other. Derek got the message and lifted his hips obediently and shuffled out of his boxers. You moved your gaze to look at him, his size was impressive and made your mouth water and core clench. He lifted your chin with the forefinger of one hand, as his other made a home rubbing you through your panties. A pathetic moan- not even stifled, echoed through the silent room; his calloused fingertips were rubbing the dark lace onto your most sensitive area, and you were revelling in the feeling of it. The way it sent shocks through your body, the way it thrilled you and left you needing more and more. You were chasing that soul shattering feeling, and you were well on our way to catching it- especially if Derek kept his fingers moving at that pace and in that certain pattern.

You hadn’t realised, but moans and groans were spilling from your lips almost in a chant. You were praising Derek’s skilful fingers and he chuckled in response, letting his other hand unclasp your bra and let it fall to rest against your stomach- the straps caught on your elbows, as your hands desperately clutched at Derek’s waist for something to keep you grounded as you floated higher and higher into the pleasure he was offering you. His lips descended onto your exposed chest, teeth and lips nipping at the taut bud. All it took was one hard bite to your nipple and you were coming apart in his arms. Your breath halting, your shoulders tensing and your knees shaking. His fingers didn’t let up though- they guided you through the haze of pleasure and only left you when you were breathing out slowly into the crook of his neck. You let your forehead rest against his shoulder as your tried to calm yourself down, once you felt your breathing return to a semi-normal pace; you let your eyes trail to where his erection was straining and leaking happily- if it were possible, he looked like he was even more erect and ready for you than before. You watched as he let his hand slip from between your legs and you gasped at how wet it was, he just chuckled before slicking his hand down himself and moving your hips to just above him. They rested poised, ready- yearning to plunge downwards and onto him- but he held you steady, teasing you. Before deciding; enough was enough and letting your hips drop.

He raised his own the moment you met, and a sigh slipped from his manly mouth as he was welcomed into your warmth. He held you still for a moment; as if he knew you were still too sensitive and needed some time to adjust. And adjust you did, soon you were desperate to grind yourself against him. Or thrust yourself one him and chase that pleasure again. Sure you were being reedy, but it was almost a necessity! Derek held your hips steady- still buried within you, but not moving. He hissed a breath through his teeth- then let his grip on your hips loosen, you let yourself free. Grinding against him- the skin above where you were joined rubbing at the sensitive nub, you let out a guttural moan; which made even Derek blush by the looks of his pink cheeks. He gripped your hips tighter and guided them into a rhythm. You could feel him rubbing against you in all the right ways, reaching parts of you- you didn’t think was possible, merely a myth. But Derek Hale proved you wring and reached that elusive spot within you. Your rhythm continued, gaining speed and strength. Until you could feel yourself on the cusp of oblivion, and Derek gave a hard thrust within; giving you that final nudge. You cried out- probably an unrecognisable sound or even made up language you weren’t sure. You just knew the way you were feeling in that moment nothing mattered. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, though if it was you. Or Derek. Or you both combined, you weren’t sure and you sure as hell didn’t care- your body was shaking and covered in a light sweat. But nothing mattered apart from Derek still being buried deep within you as you both experienced euphoria. Once you were both calmed from your activities, you rest your head against his shoulder and lifted your hips lazily from his. The slightly uncomfortable feeling of being empty, brought you back to reality. And your senses- and it seemed like Derek’s had also returned. As his mood changed from sated to grumpy in no time. He was soon shoving you off his lap, and onto the seat beside him- and shoving a discarded shirt into your chest.

His glare forced you to tug the shirt over your head, and once it was situated; covering the necessities and Derek had tucked himself away. You noticed that Scott was stood sheepishly by the entrance- rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly and blushing a bright red. You buried your face in your hands embarrassed, because Scott could tell what had not long since transpired within the abandoned train car.

#repost #derek hale smut #derek x y/n #derek smut #teen wolf smut

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio. She laughed when you said you were too.

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer.

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica.

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked.

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?"

"There." She points at the screen.

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?"

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest).

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question.

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean."

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas."

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here.

"No timer?," she asked.

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart."

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?"

"Something like that."

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better.

But she can't know.

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze.

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her.

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you.

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…"

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but…

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that."

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair."

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo"

"What was that?"

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…"

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too."

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before.

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?"

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier– looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too."

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?"

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them."

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door, but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over.

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart.

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her– that is how eerily quiet it is.

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then."

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?"

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here– just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too."

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!"

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch."

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them."

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective."

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light.

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip.

"So cute…"

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence.

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice."

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry."

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually."

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair.

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup.

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…"

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house.

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down.

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?"

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was."

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes.

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?"

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…"

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything."

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep.

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home.

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before.

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place.

#three bees writing #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #black widow #black widow spoilers #black reader insert

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Jealous

Pairing | Eric Northman x reader

Summary | bringing your partner to the bar seemed like a good idea in order to have a nice and relaxing night. However, he appears to become jealous as you speak to the owner of Merlottes.

Warnings | smut, jealousy, swearing, exhibition kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), squirting, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

A hunger derived in the vampire’s chest, a blossoming swarm of contained rage that made the sheriff clench his fangs and watch with piercing eyes. The laughter that resonated from your chest made him scowl, all because he was the one that was not causing it.

Instead, it was the dog that ran around this human grill, the shifter that more often than not, tried to distance himself from trouble. He was the owner of Merlottes. Sam Merlotte was his name, he had a head full of ashy brown hair, that had ropes of grey pleated through it. He was a nice man, warm and welcoming, the complete opposite of Eric in some sense.

The Viking vampire was known, and to your knowledge to be notorious. He never allowed anything to stand in his way, and if it dared to, he would literally, rip its head off if it had one. And despite that deadly feature that he exhibited, you still claimed to have loved him. The two of you were great together, you seemingly brought out the best in him, apart from right now.

Eric grunted to no one directly as he watched you swish your head side to side, shaking it as you laughed at something the bartender said. All that you were supposed to be doing were ordering drinks, not flirting with another one of the men that had previously been head over heels for Sookie.

With one last glance at the shifter, you turned back, sitting on the opposite side of the booth that Eric had been holding. You brushed your hair over your shoulder, it was obvious that you were relaxed in this environment. It was filled with your friends and neighbours, acquaintances and strangers. But it still, despite the limitless customers, induced you with serenity.

“The drinks will be here in a couple.” Despite informing him, it appeared that he could care less about the time until the order reached the surface of the table.

“Will that animal be serving them?” In reply, you laughed, dismissing the seriousness within his tone. That was, until you maintained eye contact with the tall blonde, noticing the feral presence decreasing the size of his pupil.

“Are you speaking about Sam?” You asked uncertainty, the owner having been the only one that you had conversed with in the bar, excluding Eric, so far. “Oh my god, you are.” Your speculation had been correct, and you couldn’t help but feel a pulse of annoyance within you.

If Eric actually ever listened to you, then he would know that your friends meant the world and more to you, and that included the shapeshifter. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He put it simply, and you could only scoff at his defence. It was hardly a reason for him to appear and treat you so uptight and rudely.

“What, with care? Because news flash, maybe you haven’t noticed everything that I have done for you Eric, but many times my actions have proven that you are it for me. And if you can’t see that, you may as well be human!” To support your active words, you stood, the palms of your hands planted upon the surface of the booth.

Sookie quirked a brow as her head filled with your thoughts, however she had no time to adjust to them or check how you were doing, as you stormed out of the grill, leaving Eric with a frown and a sombre glaze in his untameable eyes.

But she couldn’t help herself from taking your place looking down at the table, judgementally prying Eric with a disgruntled frown. “Did you seriously question y/n’s love with you?!” Her accent came out strong, digging into the tense atmosphere that you had strongly abandoned.

Eric rolled his eyes at her intrusion, finding it to be a familiar, yet frustrating feeling of her always bursting his bubble. “It has nothing to do with you, why don’t you talk some sense into your vampiric boyfriend instead?” He jutted back at her, standing, and brushing off any possible lint from his blazer jacket.

Reaching into his inside pocket, he grabbed a small amount of cash, placing it upon the table, and walking past the half faerie, brushing against her as he went towards the door, leaving. Eric had no worries, he could sense that even whilst he was inside, that you were there, leant up against the wall, awaiting for him to follow after you. It was inevitable that he evens would.

Your arms were crossed, and you were facing the parking lot rather than the entrance. The stature that you upheld made it rather clear that you were angry with his behaviour; and not to mention that it was also in public.

The vampire knew that you loved him, despite Sookie’s feeble accusations. Fighting was not something that the pair of you were estranged to, however it made you furious to know that he would accuse you of being interested in somebody else.

It was certain that if Pam was here she would scold her maker for his uptight, and jealous outburst. But it wasn’t as though she would have been able to prevent it anyways, considering that she was all the way across town in Fangtasia attending to the business ongoing there.

“I do know that you love me.” His voice rang out in the cold of the night, frolicking to your ears and biting your lobes as you still refused to face the tall and unfavourable vampire.

“Right now, that is debatable.” Was your retort, feeling the cold air brush against your face as you felt it pinch your nose. “To not only insult my friend, but embarrass me in front of a bar full of people, that was not how tonight was supposed to go at all!”

Your body jolted as you suddenly felt his body press against the back of your own, his large and explorative hand dragging up the skin of your exposed thigh, that was free of coverage in the casual black dress that you had opted to wear for the occasion.

“I am sorry my lovely dear, you know how I tend to be, especially when I hear other men make you evoke that wonderful and all consuming laugh that gets my dead heart to beat every time.” A hitch of a sigh caught in your throat as you tried to remain unaffected by Eric’s flattery, but it was rather impossible, more so as his hands brushed against the lace of your panties.

On reflex, you snapped his hands away from that part of you, you were in the middle of the parking lot for Christ sakes! Though that did not, nor did it ever seem to phase him, if you were to guess, you had noticed some hints leading to him having an exhibition kink. And it was not as though you had never called him out on it, though, most of the time, you happened to give into his public desires.

It was often portrayed within the context and realm of his workplace; Fangtasia. Within the club, there was a frequent case of rendezvous that the club permitted to take place inside its various walls that were filled with vampires and their lustful humans. The exchanges that took place were anything but loving, they were filled by hunger, and the curiosity that simple people, that thought themselves to be edgy and desirable to the immortal eye, all making the rooms reek of pretentious assholes taking advantage of one another.

“We are not doing that here Eric.” You scolded his efforts, despite your craving for them to take place, and ravish you no matter the surrounding that were into the background anyways. With great resilience, you swatted his north travelling hands away, making them stoic from the adequate dismissal.But Eric Northman was never one to admit defeat, he had a plaguing tendency to get what he wanted, and he was always had a route of persuasion to get it.

“Aren’t we?” He asked wispily unto your drifting head, as though he were corrupting the stubbornness that was attempting to remain untainted in the rafters that floated so correspondingly through your weightless veins. “Then why are we sneaking to the back of the grill?” His words had a frown fired upon your face as you tried to register the truth behind his words, but in time before you could ask the mysterious vampire what he had meant by his words, he had sped you away to the said part that was already close by.

“Mature move.” You muttered, and the consequences of your off handed comment had earned you the vulnerable position of being pressed right up and against the back door, that was only usable to the staff. If you tilted your head just right, you could hear the clattering of plates being stacked, and the distant voices o Arlene and Terry as they partook in a private discussion that was supposed to be inaudible to anyone else’s ears.

Beaing that close to people that you knew, and in such a compromising situation where they could easily catch you, had you clenching your thighs together, clearly frustrated by the scenario of your predicament. Clearly. And with Eric standing smugly inside of you, once trailing his fingers on the high top of your thigh, his skin tasting your flesh that was beneath the dress, did not help the matters of your hormonal state.

“I said I was sorry.” Eric reminded you, stroking your thighs with his age old touch, and at the notion, your legs quivered, responding affective to his seducing touch. “Perhaps I have to prove it, would you like that y/n?” An audible whimper fell from your stiff mouth, evicting an amused and gloating smirk out of your boyfriend. He knew what he had done, he had moulded you into a desperate mess.

“I’d rather you apologise to Sam, and whoever else you happened to insult in your time in there.” Was your response, though he tutted at it, seeing through its mask, understanding what you wanted was for him to do more than just caress your thighs, and nothing more. “Eric.” A moan slipped from your mouth, as he fondled your breasts through the bleak fabric.

At first, you thought that he was going to pull the material down to expose your womanly globes, but instead, he tore straight down the middle of the dress, leaving it hanging from you by nothing more than a thread. His action enraged you only slightly, but before you could open your mouth to tell him off for destroying your clothing, he snapped the elastic of your underwear, leaving the personal garment to drop in a discarded manner at your heeled feet.

“You are indeed a sight for sore eyes. Do you know how jealous I would be if one of those fools came out here, and saw you so exposed? There’d be no words to describe how much I would want to compel them to forget, and you thought I was angry inside. That would be nothing more than an understatement my dear.” His hands cast themselves down to grope at your ass cheeks, pulling a surprised squeal out of your mouth.

This time, you did not try and stop his feeling of your body, instead, you rather encouraged it. Wrapping your hand in his smooth blonde locks, you began to push down, which was difficult considering how high his head was, leaving your arms half up in the air as you tried to make him descend. “Do something Eric, or I will.”

“Here?” He asked with a prominent smirk, feeling your hostile glare and intoxicating pout bore harshly into him. Rolling his eyes, he sighed, giving up on his verbal teasing as he sank to his knees, looking up at you from beside your legs. He pressed a sweet kiss against your navel, trailing down, until he was nipping at the curve of your mound, his hands resting on the back of your thighs, to pull you closer as he ran his tongue along the hood of your clit, making you bang your head back against the door.

The sound made you eyes go wide, as you worried that someone on the inside must have heard, though the thought quickly subsided as Eric began to eat you alive, stuffing his tongue in your entrance, leaving you to be nothing more than a mewling victim that was in distress from the pleasure that he gave you. His nose rubbed against your clit, as he hummed delightedly against you, the vibrations causing your body to quiver.

“Stop.” You panted, though he continued, staring up at you with those light eyes, that held much darkness of his past. “Need you inside of my Ric. Please, need you to fuck me good and hard, just fuck me.” There were tears frustratedly slipping from the corners of your eyes, as you were upheld of relief as Eric moved away, undoing his bottoms, and taking his long cock out, sweeping it against your slit.

“I’ll fuck you darling; let everyone know that your mine.” His free hand held the corner of your chin, plummeting his tongue into your mouth, to have one moment of calm, before he penetrated you, leaving you in a mess that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and deliriously spinning from the euphoria that you felt. Eric performed at a fast and unrelentingly pace, slamming you hard enough into the door for everyone to hear.

It was certain that people within Merlottes could hear the sounds that were ravaged from your lips, though you were too absorbed in your own pleasure to care at all. Eric fucked into you hard, and you appeared unfazed as someone tried to open the door from the other side, the wood splintering against your back as your boyfriend‘s strength kept it shut, pushing your floundering body back against it.

And then you felt it, the absentminded swirl in your stomach, coaxing you closer and closer to release. Eric filled you first, and then he reached down, rubbing your clit, causing a clear stream to spray out from around his cock, leaving you utterly exhausted. You were half asleep now, and so, Eric picked you up, and sped away, leaving your torn clothes upon the floor, so that anyone that found them would know that it was the pair of you that had been using the outside wall as a mattress for your engagements.

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