cap-winter-barnes

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Ghosted (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death & violence. Also some swearing.

You’ve been on missions before but nothing like this. It was an ambush. A trap. The second you all stepped out of the helicarrier, you were met with gunfire from every direction. You were outnumbered, massively so, even despite the abilities of the team. Steve and Tony were struggling to hold off the larger guns, their shields providing only enough protection to keep them in the air or on their feet. Wanda was trying her best to protect everyone with her powers, but with the amount of people she was trying to shield, her abilities were being tested.

Bucky was by your side, always one step ahead of you, quite literally. You’ve been close ever since he returned from Wakanda and became a part of the team. He took to you quickly, almost like you were friends before, yet you had never met. You just understood each other, related to each other. Bucky was determined to be the best he could be, for you. Steve didn’t seem as concerned about him anymore, spending more time with Sharon, or moping around thinking about Peggy. Bucky was a distant thought in the back of his mind now. Yet to you, Bucky is everything. The first thought in the morning and your last thought as you fall asleep. Both of you spend any waking moment you can together, whether that be catching Bucky up on the years that have passed during his captivity or simply reading a book in each others company.

His aim is as perfect as ever, yet as you fight hand to hand with the men and women trying to pick the team off one by one, you have a feeling of foreboding. A horrible feeling in your gut that something is about to go horribly wrong. Your abilities have been unreliable over the last few months, you have no reason as to why, yet your intermittent visions that show you the near future have been inaccurate or completely absurd. But flickering in your mind is the image of blood coating your hands, the ground. Your team are gone, nowhere to be seen and silence follows. You continue fighting as you try to ignore this inconvenient imagery in your head. You can hear voices, imaginary voices, bouncing around your skull, threatening and growing in volume. They’re threatening you, Steve, Tony but your biggest concern is that they are threatening Bucky. Threatening to set him back to the Winter Soldier, threatening his death and a whole other world of pain if you don’t provide them with government secrets. Secrets you aren’t even privy to.

Suddenly as is hearing a secret order, the bullets stop firing and your enemies retreat. There is only silence, and you all stop in your tracks. Tony removes his helmet, looking as confused as everyone else.

“What the hell is going on?” Steve stands breathless next to him, shaking his head at the sudden disappearance of your enemies.

“I don’t understa-“

“Ah, The Avengers. What an honour!”! An echoing voice resounds around the desolate land in which you stand. “I can finally say I have stood in the presence of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.” A deep chuckle follows, sending shivers down your spine, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Bucky senses your unease and moves closer to your side, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“And who do we have the honour of meeting, oh great one.” Even in a moment like this, Tony can’t help but great their enemies with a hint of sarcasm and patronising tone.

“Who I am, is not important, Stark. What is important is what I am.”

“Which is? It’s sort of difficult to tell when we can’t see what you look like.” Again, this man has no regard for the situation. Bucky tightens his grip on your hand. He mentally sends you a message, something you’ve been working on for months and something only you two are capable of doing.

‘It’s going to be alright, we’ve got this doll.’ You glance sideways at him with a tight lipped smile.

“Have you Sergeant Barnes? Will it be alright?” A sick feeling settles in your stomach. How? How could this being hear that? An unspoken sentiment between you both, how was it intercepted? “Ah, your little doll can’t grasp my powers.” The dark chuckle that accompanies their words causing your body to involuntarily shake as you try to block out your thoughts. “If you’re so sure of your talents, Sergeant. Prove your worth.”

Bucky flinches as his super-soldier hearing picks up something in the distance. But his hearing isn’t quick enough. Before he has even raised his gun, his body is knocked backwards with force. Pain shoots through your body as he is ripped from your grasp. Everything moves in slow motion as you turn to help him as the rest of the team circle you, providing cover. As you turn to Bucky, the blood freezes in your body.

“James?” Your voice is quiet, broken as you take in the sight of his body. “JAMES!” You fall to the ground next to him, hands moving to his neck to feel for a pulse. His bullet-proof vest is badly damaged, blood seeping through his suit into the ground below. His metal arm is spattered with his own blood, wires and connectors visible as the outer covering has torn away. What power could this being possibly possess that could tear through Vibranium like this? “James, please.” Your fingers press into his pulse point, yet you feel nothing. “JAMES!” Nothing. His pulse is still, his chest unmoving. You grab at his flesh arm, fingers pressing into his inner wrist. Nothing.

“Tony. Tony we need medical aid. TONY, PLEASE!”

“Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, we will meet again.” There is an ear-splitting boom, that leaves everyone temporarily dazed. Yet when they recover, they stumble haphazardly to your aid.

“Y/N you’re bleeding.” Wanda points out that your arm is badly cut, a result of the shot that missed you by mere inches.

“I don’t care about me. Just help him please.” There are tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tracks through the dirt that covers your face. “Please, I can’t lose him.”

Steve grabs you as Tony moves in to provide medical care to the best of his ability. The helicarrier returning to evacuate you all and take you home. But what is home without Bucky? “Steve, let me go.” You try desperately to keep ahold of Bucky’s hand. “Steve let me go. Let me stay with him. He promised, he promised everything would be alright.”

Every other sound and voice around you fades to white noise as Steve drags you further away, lifting you over his shoulder as he carries you into the helicarrier. “JAMES!!” You are hysterical as his body is moved onto the floor of the helicarrier as the team work hard to save him. “I can’t lose you, please.” This last sentence is spoken so quietly, yet Wanda hears you. A sadness creeps into the team as everyone sits silently, Bucky laying motionless and still on the floor. Exhaustion over takes you, the bloodloss from your arm creeping up as you suddenly lose consciousness, your body falling into Steve.

** Two Days Later **

The incessantly sound of beeping immediately causing you discomfort as you awake, followed by the bright white of a hospital grade room. “Wha-“

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Tony what the fuck?” He chuckles as he checks your stats on the machine you’re hooked up to.

“You gave us quite a scare there, pumpkin. Real good scare.” As you mind flashes to your last waking moments, the heart monitor next to you begins to go haywire. “Hey, hey, hey. Prince Charming’s okay. He’s alive.”

Your freeze, staring at Tony with hopeful, pleading eyes. “Wha- How?”

“He’s a lucky bastard, that’s the only explanation I have. Clinically he was dead. Yet he lives. Whatever is in the super serum they gave him, he’s indestructible. Apparently. Don’t think you’d let me put that up to the test though.”

“Absolutely not. Can I- Can I see him?”

“Sure buttercup, but I’ll be wheeling you down there, not risking you fainting on us again.”

Tony wheels you down to Bucky’s room in a wheelchair, which if this is the only way you can see him quicker, you’ll accept it. As you enter his room, Bucky perks up at the sound of the door sliding open.

“Doll?” Bucky lurches forwards trying to remove himself from his bed.

“Ah, down soldier. You’re on bed rest for the foreseeable.” Tony scolds him and yet for a rare occurrence, Bucky lies back in the hospital bed. A soft sigh leaving his lips as he takes in your appearance.

“Don’t ever do that to me again Barnes, I thought you were dead.” Tears well in your eyes as you take in the sight of him without his metal arm attached, upper body wrapped in bandages, a nasty new section of scar tissue visible up his neck. “Wh-“

“Yeah, whatever this guy used, it stops the super healing process. Barnes here has some healing to do for the first time in a while.”

“Doll, I’ll be alright. Some bed rest might do me some good for once.” You can’t believe he’s making jokes so soon after practically dying but you’re just happy to see him smiling and alive for that matter.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagines #Bucky barnes #James barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines

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Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader - Don’t Leave Me Alone

Warnings: Brief/Vague mentions of childhood & teenage abuse. Y/N has a panic attack due to physical touch.

Someone requested this piece but I lost their @ so apologies for not tagging you when I said I would - hope this is okay for my first Spencer fic.

You’ve been a member of the BAU team for over a year and yet you’re still not ready to open up to your colleagues about your past. Hotch had made it clear to the team that you were not one for physical contact, handshakes and hugs were off the cards. Even a hand on your shoulder is enough to set you off in a panic. Your childhood into your teen years were a painful experience that has left you fearing human contact, even the slightest touch can trigger a panic attack, something you desperately try to avoid. Spencer respects your personal space, especially as he struggles to deal with people touching him too. But he can’t help but want to provide you with support to hold you when he can see that you’re struggling with your own mind or freaking out after a case.

The teams most recent case has you travelling to the humid climate of Florida. With the weather causing an unreal amount of heat and discomfort you reluctantly opted to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt rather than your usual long-sleeved blouse. It made the bullet-proof vest just that little bit more bearable. Yet you didn’t account for the local Sheriff to take it upon himself to grab your upper arm during an argument with one of his detectives. The detective in question had been making derogatory comments towards you, JJ & Emily the entire time you had been at the precinct and you had finally had enough. After calling you ‘sweetheart’ for what must have been the hundredth time, you needed to speak your mind.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Detective,” your words laced with venom. “But my name isn’t sweetheart, or honey, or darlin’. It’s Y/N.” Silence follows your outburst.

“Well, darlin’. Maybe if you dressed more respectably you’d be treated as such.” The smirk on his face irks you beyond reason, so much so, that you leap from your position on the desk across from him.

“What did you just say to me?” Reid, JJ & Hotch all close in to defend you but you raise your hand to stop them. “I’ve got this don’t worry.”

“Yeah, the little princess over here can handle herself.” This earns chuckles from the other detectives and officers around the room.

“Right, that’s enough!” The Sheriff storms through but with your back turned to him, you don’t realise that he’s reaching for you as you take a step back, getting into his bad books isn’t going to help the progression of the case. It’s too late for your team to step in as they realise what is about to happen just as his hand closes around your upper arm. On instinct you’re body reacts in the only way it knows - a panic attack. You try to pull away as his grip tightens trying to move you aside for a quiet conversation but that isn’t happening now.

“LET ME GO!” You repeat the phrase as loud as your voice will allow you. His touch instantly causes your mind to picture the violence you suffered in your younger years. Tears stream from your eyes as your panic intensifies. You can just about make out the voices of Reid & JJ as they try to comfort you and reassure you whilst Hotch is demanding you be let go. When the Sheriff finally releases you under the threats of Hotch, your can no longer hold yourself upright, on instinct, Spencer catches you as you fall.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N, but we need to get you someone quiet. I’m so sorry.” Spencer cradles you in his arms as he half walks, half carries you to an empty filing room for some privacy.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” As he settles you down he pulls his hands away to let you go, fingers outstretched like approaching a wounded animal. But you reach out, taking his hands in yours.

“Please, Spence.” Your words are breathless as you speak, begging him to stay, to touch you. To comfort you. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” His grip on your hands tighten as he sits himself beside you. “I’ll always stay for you.” You respond with a tight smile, grateful for him not pressuring you to reveal anything from your past, grateful for the respect he shows for your personal space. Yet now, nothing comforts you more than the feeling of his thumb dancing across the back of your hands, calming you unintentionally. For once in your life, you feel comforted and relaxed by someone’s touch. Maybe it isn’t so bad after all, yet only time will tell. And maybe you can finally let Spencer into your heart that little bit more like you so desperately want to.

#spencer x reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x fem!reader #requests are open

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I'm baccckkkkkkk

So, I think it's time that I try my hand at writing some fanfics again?!

If anyone has any requests for the following characters, please drop me a message or an ask:

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Blinders)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Bucky Barnes (Marvel)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things)

Draco Malfoy (HP)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

August Walker (Mission Impossible)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #requests are open #bucky imagines #henry cavill x reader #geralt x reader #august walker x reader #spencer reid x reader #billy hargrove x reader #eddie munson x reader #alfie solomons x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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So after a few months break from here, I am finally back!!

My absence has been a result of being at work and also starting up my own business on the side. I promise that I am still working through all requests (some still from November, I am so sorry).

I am also taking on new requests - however, these may take some time, but please please please send them in.

At this moment in time I am eager to write for Bucky Barnes, but will also be writing for all my other characters.

I can’t wait to get back into writing for you guys, so please send in those requests!!

Much love.

#Bucky x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky imagines #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #august walker x reader #august x reader #peter parker x reader #Sebastian stan x reader #tom Holland x reader #Spider-Man x reader #requests are open

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Don’t Lie To Me (August Walker x Reader)

Request: “Oh my, I need to recover from that angst August piece 🥺 I don't know if you are taking requests hun, but If you are, could I request August x Reader where she is his own private nurse at home after the accident? He is a little bit just like August in the beggining not giving much away (and now even more becausehe is ashamed of his scars) but after some time they fall in love for each other? Thank you hun ❤️”

@lovelycavills​ thank you for this lovely request. I absolutely adored this idea. This is a short little piece as its been sitting in my drafts for forever and a day. I will be continuing on this story though.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury

AU! - In which August survives Kashmir & you are his private nurse.

Buy Me a Coffee

“Are you afraid of me?” August startles you as you’re fluffing his pillows. Leaving the soft cushion in its rightful place, you turn to face him. There he stands in the doorway, his good arm resting against the frame, the arm concealed in a cast resting idly by his side.

“What?” You cannot conceal the surprise in your voice at his question, completely surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.

“You heard me, dove.” His gaze doesn’t quite meet yours, eyes cast downwards as his fingers play with a loose string from the stockinette beneath the shell of his cast. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No.” The single word leaves your mouth without hesitation as a soft sigh leaves his lips. Yes, you had heard him the first time and there was no denying your honesty to him. You could never be afraid of the man that stands before you, despite not being able to look at him directly as you admit to it.

“Dove?” His eyes are on you now, unwavering, yet they glisten with hope as you raise your head to face him. “If you really mean-“ He takes a steady steps towards you, so unsure of himself as he moves in your direction. August stops mere inches from where you stand, his stare fixed with yours, emotions running rampant in the blue of his eyes. “If you really mean that, look me in the eyes, and say it again.” His tone is demanding, strong with authority and you cannot deny that it sends a chill down your spine that travels through your body, right to your core. With a steadying breath, you refuse to meet his watchful gaze as you speak again. “No, August. I’m not afraid of you.” As you finish speaking, it seems that August regains some of his old confidence, as he surges forwards to press his mouth against yours. Albeit shocked, you immediately respond to his kiss, your own lips mirroring his own urgent actions.

His moustache scratches at the skin above your lip, but you welcome it gladly, tangling you fingers into his hair as you pull him against yourself. With a groan, August removes his mouth from yours, his good hand cradling your neck as his gaze drifts over each feature of your face, landing again on your lips.

“August.” You are breathless as you stare at him, trying to bring air into your lungs. Yet the fire that burns in the pit of your stomach makes you crave his kiss again. “That wa-“

“A mistake.” He moves away suddenly, turning his back to you as he smacks his hand into the wall. “Fuck!” You startle slightly at his outburst, feeling tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you gasp. August’s breathing is erratic. “A fucking mistake, I- I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I shouldn’t have done that, that was stupid of me.”

“August, please.” Hurt is laced within your voice, causing him to look at you once again. There are tears in his own eyes and it pains you to see him so vulnerable again. “Please don’t push me away. I can’t bare it. August, I’m in-“

“Don’t! Don’t lie to me. Please, don’t lie to me.” His voice is harsh at first, as he interrupts you, his emotions so clearly on his sleeve.

“I love you.” You say it firmly and confidently, tears running down your cheeks. “I love you.” The second time you say it with a smile on your face, a laugh of relief leaves you as you confess your feelings to him.

“No, you don’t. Please Y/N, do not torture me like this.”

“August Walker, I am in love with you.”

You watch him as the truth settles in and the expression on his face softens.

“You love me?” The way in which he speaks breaks your heart, an evident fear of rejection in his uncertainty to question you.

“Yes!”

As if on a mission, August moves towards you and pulls you against his body, crushing you in a hug. Sobs wracking through his body as he holds you tightly.

“I love you so much. Since the day you walked in here and told me ‘no’. I have loved you more each day, don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

#august walker x reader #august x reader #august walker #august walker imagine #august imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #requestsareopen

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Give Me Time (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Request: “Heyy can you write with fred? Where fred and reader are dating and they are alone and fred is being all needy clingy touchy touchy all cute but reader is a bit uncomfortable because she is shy. After a few attempts fred gives her space and he is heartbroken bc she is not comfortable with him yet? And then they make up but this time she pushes herself out of her comfort zone. Im sorry this is so specific but i thought it would be cute. I would be so happy if you can write this!! Thank you.”

Thank you so much to @rheas-stuff for requesting my very first Fred Weasley x Reader. I’m so sorry that you’ve waited such a long time for this.

Warnings: brief mentions of sex? (Sort of), angst

The Gryffindor Common Room is empty save from both yourself and Fred Weasley, your friends all retiring to be hours ago.

When your conversations became dull and tiresome, you had both sat in comfortable silence, the only sound being that of the crackling of the fire in the hearth. It seemed strange that Fred was quiet, yet before you could question him, he had you pinned against the cushion of the sofa, his lips pressed to your own. It isn’t that you have never been in this situation before with your boyfriend but that fact he was kissing you where anyone could walk in which made you uneasy.

“Fre-“

You try to speak as he presses his lips harder against yours, a hand trailing up your body over your blouse.

“Fred, stop.” He stills after a moment, a sigh leaving his mouth.

As he moves away from you, you see the sadness in his eyes as he avoids your gaze.

“Fred, I-“

He stands to leave as you reach for his hand, your fingertips grazing his as he pulls away. You watch with regret as he leaves for the boys dormitory.

This wasn’t the first time that you had stopped Fred from going any further, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to. It was just that the only place where there was no one else around was the Gryffindor common room – and anyone could walk in at any time. Your shyness always controlling your actions. You loved Fred with all of your being and you knew he was it for you.

A week later, you find yourself with Fred, hidden beneath a willow tree overlooking the black lake. The sun set over an hour ago and no one ventures this far out to the lake at night. You had taken that fact as an opportunity to make love to him for the first time in a place where you were not to be interrupted, the branches of the willow shielding you both from view.

As you sit straddling his lap in nothing but your underwear and his unbuttoned shirt, you confess your previous woes, easing his concern.

“I love you, Freddie.”

“I love you too, L/N.”

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred x reader #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #Fred imagines #Harry Potter imagines #fanfic #Harry Potter fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst

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Excuse Me? (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Request: “Please can I have a draco x Slytherin reader in a no Voldemort universe where she is really sweet, caring and intelligent and everyone thinks she should be a hufflepuff or ravenclaw until one day she hears some gryffindors talking crap about draco so she begins to mess with them (destroys their homework, puts veritiseum in their drinks etc) and when draco asks her about it she just gets this little smile and shrugs xx”

Thank you @hollsangels for this one. I hope you like it.

Buy Me a Coffee

During breakfast, the Great Hall is alive with the activity of Hogwarts’ students, the expanse of the room is filled with the sound of scraping cutlery, hushed conversations and laughter – even Draco is in an exceptionally good mood this morning, smiling and chatting enthusiastically with those around you.

You have been best friends with the blonde since your first year, spurred by the sorting hat’s decision to place you both in Slytherin. In your fourth year, Draco politely asked you to the Yule Ball, much to the displeasure of every other girl in Slytherin, especially Pansy Parkinson. Draco kissed you in a secluded corridor as he escorted you back to the common room that night, and ever since, your romance has only blossomed. Your friendship and eventually relationship has never been a secret, nearly the entire school having knowledge of your adoration for each other. Yet some cannot understand how you were even sorted into Slytherin, let alone friends and in love with the infamous, Draco Malfoy.

Subconsciously, you sit and twist the ring that adorns your right hand around your finger, a gift from Draco that you so greatly adore. This is something you tend to do whenever there is something on your mind – however, this action is brought on by your eavesdropping into a conversation on the Gryffindor table behind you.

“I don’t see how she can be with someone, like- Nevermind.” Despite the Gryffindor girls trying to keep their conversation hushed, they are more than audible to your ears and those of the people around you, including Draco.

“No, what were you going to say?” There is overlapping murmuring of agreement from the others as they encourage their friend to continue.

“It’s just that, she’s so nice and lovely. And Draco’s just so… Draco.”

You take a short intake of breath and her words as Draco stills next to you, the smile on his face immediately fading to a frown.

“He’s such an arse.”

“She deserves so much better.”

Draco bluntly excuses himself from the table and rushes from the Great Hall, you watch as he disappears from view before you also excuse yourself. As you stand, you approach the Gryffindor table, a look of fury on your face.

As they turn to look at you, you have to try your hardest to not hex them on the spot.

“You’re going to regret ever saying anything bad about him. Do you hear me?”

You storm out of the hall, following in the direction that Draco had left, missing the fearful expressions on the faces of all the girls you had threatened.

Two weeks later, you find yourself alone in detention with Professor McGonagall, your reasoning for being there? Let’s just say, those Gryffindor girls will no longer be making any comments about yours and Draco’s relationship. You never told Draco what you had done to them, although you’re pretty sure he would be pretty proud of your use of veritiserum and some other useful charms to get your revenge.

McGonagall dismisses you after two hours of writing lines, with the promise that you will never repeat your actions. But as you leave the classroom into the darkened hallway, you are met with the impressed expression of your boyfriend.

“I heard what you did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Draco.” You act nonchalant to his statement as you hook your arm within his, making your way back towards your common room. The growing smile on your face however a tell tale sign of your guilt.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x Slytherin reader #draco malfoy x Slytherin reader #Slytherin reader #fanfic #draco malfoy #draco #requests are open #draco imagines #draco malfoy imagines

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If you can’t tell already I am completely soft for August Walker at the moment

Send me requests!!!!

#august Walker x reader #august Walker #august Walker imagine #Henry cavill x reader #Henry cavill imagine

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This Isn’t Goodbye (August Walker x Reader)

Warnings: a shit ton of angst, swearing, detailed mentions of injury, blood & death 

A/N: First of all, I am so incredibly sorry for this. I’m pretty sure this is the most-angsty and saddest thing I’ve written to date. Secondly, I’m sorry.

Buy Me a Coffee

Heights have never been a favourite of yours, that accompanied with your fear of flying makes your current predicament even more terrifying. August sits by your side, one hand clutched tightly in your own, giving you a reassuring squeeze every time you inhale sharply; and in his other hand is the detonator. His ongoing task strikes a wave of nausea and fear through you whenever you think about it. Yet, somewhere deep down you know his heart is in the right place. The day he told you his plans, you had promised to love him regardless of his actions – although you oftentimes question said actions and his reasonings, you still love him with the entirety of your heart.

Trying your hardest not to look outside of the open helicopter doors down to the ground very far below, you distract yourself by twisting your wedding band around your finger with your thumb. August catches onto the movement, squeezing your hand just that slightest bit tighter.

“Hey, when this is over, we can go home.” Your eyes meet glistening pools of blue with a hint of brown as you lock onto his gaze. “No more travelling. No more violence. No more running. I promise.” The sincerity in his words and in his eyes makes you believe every syllable that leaves his mouth. “And you will want for nothing.” Very rarely did August show caring or loving emotions in front of others, so hearing him speak in such a way creates a flutter in your chest and a warmth in your cheeks.

For the first time since the helicopter took off from the medical camp in Kashmir, you feel somewhat at ease.

“I think I like the sound of finally settling down.” A soft grin spreads across August’s face at your confession. “Maybe a dog.” The grin turns into a chuckle and a playful roll of his eyes. “Maybe a few kids?” The excitement in your voice is undeniable and it takes him aback, this is the first time that the topic of children has been breached since your relationship began so many years ago.

“You want kids? With me?” There is clear anxiety in his voice as he processes your question. Yes, he had thought of you having children, of course. But he never imagined that you would want the same thing.

“Of course, August. Why wouldn’t I want a mini-you running amok, keeping me on my toes?”

The smile spreading across his face, reaching his eyes, triggers your own facial expression to mirror his as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

August’s lips linger delicately on your skin as you both revel in the realisation that in the near future, you could be parents. Yet, your moment of bliss is soon interrupted by the helicopter veering dangerously to the right. Even strapped in by your seatbelt you need to hold onto the wall of the fuselage and to the seat on which you sit to keep yourself steady, both yours and August’s hands disconnect to support yourselves. In your peripheral vision you catch a glance at the falling payload as it falls to the water far below. As the aircraft levels itself, August unfastens his seatbelt, moving across you to glance upwards through the open door.

“Fuck!” His outburst startles you as he returns to his seat, not hesitating to reach behind you to uncover a machine gun, at which your heart falters and stomach lurches.

“August, no.”

“It’s Hunt, he-“

“August, please.” You see the muscle in his jaw flex as he watches you, seeing your skin pale from panic, unsettles him. Without further question he places the weapon back where he found it, recovering it with the tarp. “Thank you.” Your words are quiet, but August hears them as clear as day, making his heart ache at your fear – a result of his own actions.

Hunt continues to pursue your aircraft, nearly colliding with you on occasion. Intermittently, August barks orders at the pilot – any attempt to get so far ahead of Hunt that he cannot catch up to you. In the minutes, in which you are targeted by the IMF spy, your husband refuses to let go of your hand which he grips in a bone-crunching hold. His own fear does nothing to ease your own, but you sense that that fear is not only for himself, but for you too. As you reach the summit of the mountains, August catches your gaze, an apologetic expression on his face, unshed tears forming in his eyes.

“If we don’t make it out of this, just know I love you.” He barely chokes out his words, words that are laced with regret. “And I am so sorry that I dragged you into this.” Tears slowly escape his eyes as he keeps his attention directed on you.

“Augu-“

When you rouse from unconsciousness, you find yourself lying on the hard, damp ground. You try to move, but every inch of your body flares with unbearable pain. Yet with the little movement you can muster in your head and neck, you are able to assess the irreparable damage caused from the crash. There is a dangerous amount of blood pooling around your body, soaking into your clothes and tainting your skin. But the most horrifying of it all, is the metal shrapnel protruding from your stomach – you have no energy to scream or to cry, your mind focusing solely on remembering your husband’s face and voice, in what you know are your last moments.

“Y/N?” The sound of August’s voice cuts through the fogginess and registers in your brain as he calls for you. “Y/N!” There is a change in his tone as you can barely distinguish the sound of heavy, running footsteps. “Shit! No, no, no, no, no.”

August falls next to you on his knees, his hands immediately putting pressure onto your stomach. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

With the energy you can muster to move, you nod once, the movement is barely detectable, but August acknowledges it regardless. “I’m not going to let you die. You can’t die.” His voice is raw with emotion, fear dripping from every word.

“I love you.” Your profession of love is hardly audible as blood tints your lips, your skin losing its colour quickly.

“No, don’t you dare. You are not dying.”

“Baby.” The way in which you speak the endearment has August slumping in defeat, removing the pressure from your abdomen and then discarding his gloves. He moves carefully to take your face in his bloody palms, the crimson having soaked through the material of his soiled gloves.

Seeing your husband broken like this triggers slow tears to fall from your eyes, tears which August brushes away delicately with his thumbs. Even your blinking has become lethargic as you fight to give him a soft smile.

“I love you, August.” You say the words slowly, never breaking eye contact as he leans over your body. Tears pour down his cheeks, something you thought you would never see – in all the time you have been together, you have never seen August cry.

“Don’t leave me.”

“This isn’t goodbye, my love.”

Pressing his forehead against your own he tries to fight the sobs that threaten to escape him, trying his hardest to compose himself for you, to ease your suffering just by a little.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I am so so sorry. This is all my fault, I promised you a normal life, I promised a family. Forgive me.”

“T-there is n-nothing to forgive. I l-love y-you.” A cough tears through your chest, more blood blossoming on your lips and coating your teeth. “I n-need to hear you s-say it back, pl-please.”

He knows he cannot deny you such a simple request, yet the three words you long to hear no longer fill him with joy and love, but dread. This will be the last time you hear him speak these words, words that mean so much.

“I love you.” As soon as the words leave his lips, you let out a short gasp of air as you smile, just as August presses a hard kiss to your forehead. “I love you with all I possess.” He professes his love again, this time following it with a kiss to your chapped lips. The metallic taste of your blood reaches his lips, and it takes everything within him not to heave.

Moving away from you, August is met with your empty, glossed-over eyes. Your chest is completely still as an anguished yell rips through him. Taking your cold, unmoving hand within his own, August breaks down.

His mission forgotten, now meaningless, August Walker lets Ethan Hunt take him back to the CIA, willing to confess to all offences and sins, on the condition that he can lay his wife to rest.

They can put him through anything but nothing can be a worse punishment than living without her.

Henry Cavill Taglist

@beck07990

#august walker x reader #august walker #august walker imagine #august x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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What They Did To You (August Walker x Reader)

Mission Impossible: Fallout spoilers ahead (sort of)!!

A/N: This is an AU in which August comes home. I just had this idea of a really soft, loving, family-oriented August in my head and I absolutely fell in love with it.

Warnings: Like one swear word & mentions of injury

Buy Me a Coffee

During this time of the year, the English countryside becomes increasingly colder, almost seemingly out of nowhere. It’s as though, as the last days of September approach, that the sun decides it no longer wishes to provide the beautiful warmth it had during the summer months.

The sky outside is a darkening grey as you stare absentmindedly out of the window of your bedroom, the view still beautiful looking upon the expanse of greenery to the front of your property.

Moving to England had been the best decision for you, especially under the circumstances. You first occupied your quaint, sheltered home the previous year, in the midst of the Autumn season – the surrounding areas of the cottage you so adore, instantly made you feel at home amongst the beauty of the countryside.

You love the season so much so, that you bestowed its name upon the small bundle nestled safely in your arms, barely a month old.

Your little Autumn.

Such a small, delicate thing, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. As soon as you saw that positive pregnancy test gripped between your shaking fingers, you vowed to protect and love her with your life – nothing could change that. A dusting of dark hair adorns her head and that accompanied by the beautiful ocean blue of her eyes, makes her a spitting image of her father. Your husband.

A husband you wish makes a safe return home, to you. To both of you. Despite his work and his beliefs, you still love the man the world has begun to fear – albeit under the guise of John Lark. The last you saw of him was a week before you gave birth to Autumn – he was flying to Berlin to infiltrate the CIA – that was all the information he had given you. That and the promise to come home safely. Yet weeks later, you fear the worst, spending any chance you can sparing glances out the window, expecting him pull up the driveway at any moment.

Your peace is suddenly interrupted by the incessant ringing of your phone, panic causing your heart to weigh heavily in your chest. There are only two people that have this number – your mother and August. Yet he never calls whilst on work duty, unless in an emergency, which has never occurred previously.

Autumn stirs in your arms, her small fists raising into the air in a stretch, soft gurgles escape her mouth as she begins to wake. Taking her dummy from the coffee table, you gently ease it between her lips, soothing her into silence as you reach for your phone. With unsteady fingers, you answer.

The voice on the other end of the call, you do not recognise, yet you know that he is an ally of August’s, his tone too reassuring to be a threat.

“Mrs Walker, your husband is alive.” You sense there is more that he’s not saying.

“Where is he?” You pull Autumn closer to your chest, a need within you to protect her even more so than before.

“He’s safe and will be on a private jet home within the hour, ma’am.”

“What aren’t-“

The call ends and you feel nauseous. Something is clearly wrong that they do not want you to know. Yet all you can do, is sit and wait for the return of your husband.

At quarter to midnight, nine hours after you received that dreaded call, you hear the sound of tyres on gravel nearing your home. Vacating your bed and ensuring that Autumn is soundly sleeping in her cot, you make your way to the window overlooking your driveway.

You are met with the sight of three Range Rovers, black in colour with tinted windows. As soon as the second car comes to a halt, the rear passenger swings open and, in a rush, out steps your husband. Despite not being able to distinguish his features, you know it is him.

Without further hesitation you remove yourself quickly from the window, uncaring of the fact you wear only a pair of black underwear and one of August’s button-up shirts. You have barely made it halfway down the staircase before the door flies open, revealing the silhouette of the man you love.

There is the briefest of pauses before you both instinctively move towards each other. August envelopes you in his arms, holding you tightly against his body as you grip the back of his shirt in your fists. Heavy sobs escape from your mouth as you revel in the feel of his warmth against your skin, the sensation of his hands on your clothed back. A forceful, yet loving kiss is placed on the crown of your head as August takes in the scent of your hair, missing the smell of your shampoo in the time that he has been gone.

As if only realising, August pulls away, a gasp leaving his lips as his strong hands gently caress your stomach – the last time he saw or felt your body, was with a full-term bump.

“Is-“

You cannot see his face clearly in the darkness of the hallway, but you can just make out that his attention is directed towards the top of the staircase.

“August, come and meet our daughter.”

The intake of breath that you hear from him causes a flutter in your chest. He had confessed to you, the day you revealed your pregnancy to him, that he hoped it would be a girl. A girl for him to cherish and spoil, to protect and love with his entire being.

As you are about to ascend the stairs, you reach for the light-switch, yet August’s hand stops you.

“No lights, please. I don’t want to wake her.”

“August, the light will be-“

“Please.” There is something different in his voice, if you were to guess it would seem like distress. But too caught in the moment of finally introducing August to your daughter has you brushing the thought aside.

“Okay. Take my hand.”

August takes your hand in his, his thumb dancing across your skin. As you reach your bedroom, you ignore turning the light on and continue further into the room. Before your reach her cot, August halts, reluctantly releasing your hand.

“Darling, are you okay?”

Clearing his throat, you can make out a nod of his head.

“Let me just clean myself up first.”

You watch as he retreats to your en-suite, closing the door behind him, save for a fraction that allows you to see the light turn on. But as you catch just a small amount of his reflection in the mirror, you feel sick.

“August?” The raised whisper of his name startles him and as he catches your expression through means of the mirror he curses.

“Shit.”

Moving quickly, you enter the bathroom and turn your husband to face you. Immediately, tears spring to your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.”

He can hardly meet your gaze as he speaks, voice rough and broken.

The red, raw skin of the right-side of his face looks painful and you cannot help but think that this is in its healing stages, dreading to picture the sight immediately after the damage was caused.

“This is why you didn’t want the lights on, isn’t it.” A moment passes before he nods his head twice, a sombre expression on his face. Your hand reaches for the unaffected skin on his left side, taking his cheek in his palm, you stroke your thumb over his cheekbone, grazing his eyelashes in the process. August closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of your gentle touch.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“What happened?” At your interruption he meets your eyes, your gaze unwavering as your heart breaks at seeing him so vulnerable like this.

“Engine fuel.” More tears slip from your eyes as you now close them. With both hands August cups your face in his palms, wiping the tears away as he does so.

“I can’t stand the sight of myself, but just knowing that I have been able to come home to you, has me counting my lucky stars. I am truly sorry that-“

“Stop apologising, August. You’re home now and that’s what matters, I just hate seeing you in pain. This,” you gesture to the damaged skin, will not change how much I love you.”

His response is a soft chuckle before he places a chaste kiss to your lips, lingering briefly.

“If it’s any consolation, I can’t feel a thing – now anyway.” A swift, yet gentle slap is delivered to his bicep as you push yourself away from him playfully. This is the way it has always been between the two of you – the way it is supposed to be. “Now if you don’t mind, dear wife, I would love to meet our daughter.”

You both smile as you kiss him again. Pulling away you lead him across the room to the cot beside the window, turning the lights on as you do so.

Nestled against a soft pink blanket, lies a sleeping Autumn.

Glancing at August you see his tear-filled eyes as he reaches an outstretched finger to her tiny-clenched fist, which at his touch opens and then closes around his fingertip.

“She’s so small.”

“Babies usually are my love.” He meets your eyes with a playful glare before directing his attention back to the small being he helped create.

“She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”

As if sensing the presence of her father, Autumn stirs and begins to open her crystalline blue eyes.

“Yet looks just like her father.” He smiles in adoration as his little girl stretches. “Why don’t you hold her, you have a lot of Daddy cuddles to catch up on my love.”

There is reluctance before August reaches for her, steadily lifting her from where she lays, until he is cradling her in his arms.

Instantly, Autumn snuggles herself comfortably into his chest, almost as if she has found comfort in his arms. A pleasant ache forms in your chest at the sight of both of them together like this.

“What do I call her?”

You briefly look away to find that August is lovingly directing his gaze towards you.

“Autumn. Autumn June.”

“Like your favourite season. It suits her perfectly.” He moves his attention solely to the small being in his arms. “Well, Autumn June Walker, I think that you are the most perfect thing I have ever laid my eyes upon. Just like your mother. And I promise, I will never let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

#august walker x reader #august walker #august x reader #august walker imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #requestsareopen

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Jealousy (Geralt of Rivia x Reader)

Request: “Hey there! Can I request a Geralt of rivia x reader drabble, where reader gets jealous of Yennefer and Geralt’s bond, but both of them reassure her that they are only friends and that Geralt only loves reader. Slightly soft Geralt but also his bloody brooding self. Can you also add some angsty feelings but a happy end with quite some kisses?☺️ if you choose to except it, i’d be more than happy☺️ and also take your time!💕”

Thank you @dashingcavill for your request. I absolutely adored this idea and completely adore soft, brooding Geralt - with an angsty situation of course. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: cursing, extremely brief mention of sex (if you squint)

Buy Me a Coffee

“Y/N, wait!” Geralt’s voice is stern as you walk away from the inn, a satchel of supplies slung over your shoulder, boots bare laced over your leather trousers. “Y/N!”

“What, Geralt?” The tone in your voice as you whirl around to face him, has the Witcher stopping in his stride, his chest rising and falling, clearly having chased after you. His tunic hangs open, revealing the silver medallion that rests below his throat. “Please, Geralt.” This time your words are softer, pleading with the man before you, this isn’t what you wanted – you wanted to sneak out silently, without causing a fuss.

“Jaskier told me you were leaving.” Amber eyes stare back at you as you meet Geralt’s gaze, you own eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“He would be correct.” You move the satchel strap more comfortably onto your shoulder, your knuckles white as you grip the material tightly, willing yourself not to cry.

“Why?” It is in this moment, that the reason for your leaving appears behind Geralt.

“Geralt, have you found h-?” Yennefer stops, glancing between the both of you, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

“Go back inside, Yen.” The Witcher turns his head to the side, yet doesn’t severe the eye contact between you.

Yennefer doesn’t retreat immediately, still watching the two of you as you face each other, before turning on her heel and disappearing back inside the inn.

“Tell me why.” You know from experience, that Geralt of Rivia, does not beg – for anything. Yet standing in front of the same man now, as snow falls heavily, around you, you know that this is him begging you to stay, to explain yourself.

“Geralt, please.” The control you previously had over your tears dissipates as they begin to fall down your cheeks. Geralt instantly more concerned, worry settling into his eyes, brows furrowed. “I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.”

He takes one step towards you, but before he can come any closer, you raise a shaking hand to stop him.

“Why?” Never a man of many words, you cannot hold back the scoff that leaves your lips. As if it is the last straw, all of the emotions you have been keeping pent up for so long start to erupt from your mouth.

“Why do you think, Geralt?” Your hands move upwards as you grab at your hair, turning away from him as you take a gulp of freezing cold air into your lungs. With more of your composure you turn back to face him. “I have been in love with you since the day we met. That day, when you saved me from Renfri, when you took me away from that retched town, I fell in love with you, Geralt.” Your voice carries in the silence of the night, cutting through the air like a knife – there is a complete guarantee that both Jaskier and the sorceress are listening in to your confession. “And how fucking stupid of me to assume, that I ever had a chance.” Still the tears come, wetting your cheeks and dripping from your unsteady chin. Your face is flushed with embarrassment, nose tinted pink from the cold of the night.

“Y/N, I didn’t know, I-“

“What does it matter? You have her now.” The spite and anger in your voice is crystal clear despite your hushed reply and it suddenly dawns on Geralt why you wanted to leave.

“You’re jealous?” The teasing grin that forms on Geralt’s face causes a fresh surge of embarrassment and anger through your body.

“I’m glad this humours you, Geralt.” You brush your hand across your face, ridding your skin of your tears. “I wish you all the best.”

With one last, tight-lipped smile, you begin to walk away from the man that owns your heart. Again, tears form in your eyes, spilling down your face and you can no longer silence your sobbing. Yet as you reach your horse, about to mount the saddle, you are taken by the wrist and spun to face the man you have tried to so long to unwillingly to leave behind.

“Geralt, pl-“

“She is nothing, compared to you.” The Witcher’s words have your heart beating rapidly in your chest, your blood throbbing in your veins, face flushing at the physical contact. “Yenn, is just a friend. I swear to you.” With his free hand, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek as he does so.

“It has always been you.” The air leaves your lungs at his confession, not quite believing his words.

“Geralt.”

“You said you loved me?” With no words to speak, you slowly nod your head, biting your lower lip to prevent it from wobbling. “Tell me again.”

It isn’t until now that you truly realise just how close he is to your face, his nose brushing against your own

“I’m in love with you, Geralt.” That is all it takes before Geralt pushes his mouth against yours, his lips heavy and hungry against your own. The kiss is anything but gentle, like Geralt himself. There is clashing of teeth and your tongues brush against one another as he pulls you tightly against his body. Your hands tangle in the lengths of his hair, pulling on the white strands, earning you a growl.

Mid-kiss, Geralt pulls away to admire your face, lips swollen and red, cheeks tinted crimson and pupils blown wide.

“You have my heart, Y/N. Now and forever.”

The words have barely left his mouth before you are kissing him again, yet this time it is different. Both of your movements are slower, savouring the taste of each other.

“Your room or mine, Witcher?”

He lets out a deep chuckle as he lifts you from the ground, his hands guiding your legs around his waist.

The remainder of your night is spent in Geralt’s arms and despite not having sex with the man you so dearly love, you know that he feels the same for you. You peacefully fall asleep to Geralt’s stories of each scar that adorns his body, your fingers gently dancing across a thick scar on his torso. It is in that very moment that Geralt vows he will do everything and anything to keep you safe.

- Geralt Taglist -

@hel-viti

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt imagines #geralt of rivia imagines #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagines #the witcher #henry cavill x reader #Henry cavill imagines #Henry cavill #fanfic #requests are open #geralt x reader

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I am currently working on my last request in my inbox (this excludes sequels that people have requested).

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Please feel free to send in any requests for the following:

Bucky Barnes

Draco Malfoy

Henry Cavill / Geralt / August Walker / Capt Syverson / Sherlock

Tom Holland / Peter Parker / Arvin Russell

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Alfie Solomons

Please be aware that I do not write smut but I am happy to include mentions of sex and nudity. Thanks

Any requests please send by inbox so that I can keep track of them rather than by message. If you are unsure or have any questions about your request I am more than happy to discuss by DM.

Love to you all.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #alfie solomons x reader #tom Holland x reader #Henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #peter Parker x reader #Sam winchester x reader #arvin russell x reader #Fred Weasley x reader #George Weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #captain syverson x reader #august Walker x reader #fanfic #requests are open

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The River (Geralt of Rivia x Reader)

Request: Hello! I stumbled upon your post that you'd write something about Geralt. 🌿 May I suggest a Geralt x female reader, where the reader is very close friends with Jaskier, both lovable goofs always causing chaos. Geralt acts like he's too serious & tired for their shit, until Jaskier starts making moves on her, apparently having a crush. Which makes Geralt try to become favoured by her, something he didn't know he wanted. Just like he doesn't know that she likes him A LOT. It's fine if you don't feel like writing that, I'm only suggesting from the top of my head ✨ Wish you much inspiration in all your writings!

@hel-viti - thank you so much for sending me my first Geralt request. I did change it up a little bit to work with what I had in mind. I loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: brief, non-descript mentions of nudity, cursing

Buy Me a Coffee

Aches and pains are not uncommon in your line of work, often a result of walking for days on end in uncomfortable shoes or riding on horseback for hours at a time. Yet, after your most recent travels, your body is screaming for reprieve from the pain in your neck and back. You begin to trail further and further behind the men that you call your companions as the pain radiates through your spine, inevitably slowing you down. Jaskier, wanders ahead with his head up in the clouds, mumbling the makings of his next ballad, completely unaware of your hurting.

Geralt on the other hand seems to sense your discomfort, turning to look at you, his usual stoic expression on his face. But when his gaze meets yours and he sees the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes, his features soften as he brings Roach to a halt.

Dismounting with a certain grace only he can possess, Geralt approaches you carefully, however, Jaskier is quick to intervene after acknowledging the delay. He rushes past the Witcher with an unnecessary urgency, wrapping an arm around you to support your aching body.

“Jask, I’m fine.” The Bard scoffs at you, refusing to leave you be as he insists helping you along. Yet, as Jaskier fusses over you, rambling on about natural remedies and herbs to aid your pain, you cannot help but notice the way Geralt’s shoulders fall as he turns away. A strange feeling occurs in your chest at the sight of him like this, momentarily distracting you from Jaskier’s words.

It is agreed upon by the three of you that you will stop further up the beaten track and will make camp in a clearing by the side of the river until morning.

To your annoyance, Jaskier has been unbelievably clingy; his hands have not once left you, whether they be smoothing back your hair or gripping your hand too tightly. You are also certain that as the Bard planted a friendly kiss to your cheek only moments ago, that Geralt had given a disgruntled hum, his eyes turning a shade darker at the interaction.

Whilst making camp at the clearing you are increasingly more aware of Geralt’s watchful gaze, the thought alone sending a delicate blush through your cheeks.

Once satisfied that you are comfortable as you rest against the trunk of a large oak tree, Geralt announces that both he and Jaskier will delve deeper into the nearby woodland to collect firewood, as well as hunt and forage for tonight’s supper.

The Bard, with a recently discovered confidence, struts into the woodland, soon lost from your eye-line within the trees.

Geralt, suddenly unsure of himself, approaches you. In his left hand, he deftly twists a serrated hunting blade between his fingers, something you discovered he did when nervous.

“I know you can handle yourself, Y/N.” Angling the hilt in your direction, he offers the blade to you, which you willingly accept. “But should you need me.” There is an abrupt pause before he seemingly appears to correct himself. “Should you need, us. We won’t be far.”

Before you can thank him, Geralt already disappears into the woodland beyond.

You sit in your own peaceful silence, soaking in the sounds of the running river beside you and the rustling of the leaves on the light summer breeze. The thought of soothing your aching muscles in the water becomes too much to ignore. Slowly pulling yourself up from the ground, Geralt’s blade gripped in your hand, you make your way towards the river.

Ensuring that the coast is clear, you approach the waters edge. With a flourish of your wrist, your stab the blade into the dirt of the sodden ground before you remove the shoes that cause your feet such discomfort. The grass tickles your toes as you press your bare feet into the softness beneath you. Gracefully entering the river, as you feel the sun-warmed water on your feet, you graciously lift the hem of you dress up to your knees, your back protesting in the process. In a spur of the moment, you pull your dress higher up you body until you are bare. You revel in the sensation of the open air against your naked form before wading into the shallow depths of the river, lowering yourself until your chest is submerged. For a few moments you relish the sensation of the running water against your body, it has been a lifetime since you were last able to bathe like this in the heart of nature. With your back to camp, you immerse yourself completely under the water, wetting your hair to remove the dirt and grime. And as you re-emerge from the shallow depths of the water, you bask in the warmth provided by the sun.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Geralt’s husky voice startles you and in this moment you are glad you are facing away from him as your skin burns crimson.

“It’s called bathing, Witcher, you should try it sometime.” Your voice is steady as you speak, yet your heart races rapidly in your chest, so much so, he can surely hear it.

“Do I really smell that bad?” Despite having your back turned to him, you can identify the smirk on his face as he speaks, a joking tone to his words.

Before you can comprehend a response, you hear the sound of clattering on the riverbank, followed closely by what seems to be clothing. You silently pray that he has only removed his jacket.

To say that you are not attracted to the Witcher would be an understatement and a lie. As you will your heart to calm itself, you muster enough courage to turn and face the Witcher. But Geralt is no longer standing on the riverbank.

You are thankful that your body is submerged beneath the surface as he wades through the water towards you, his own body completely bare, the water protecting his modesty.

When he reaches you, he sinks lower until only his face and shoulders are visible.

“How are you feeling?” There is an unexpected softness to his words as he speaks, and still it does nothing to settle your pulse.

“Better than before, though it still aches.”

Cautiously, he raises his hands from below the surface of the water, almost offering them to you.

“May I?” Realising to what he is referring you nervously accept.

Geralt is gentle in his ministrations as he massages your neck and back with unimaginable tenderness. As soon as his hands touched your affected muscles, the tension in your body subsided, until all you can think about now is the feel of his hands on your bare skin. Yet when you feel the contact of his lips against your dampened shoulder, an unexpected gasp leaves your throat. Immediately, Geralt’s movements stop as he moves to stand in front of you. And as soon as his eyes meet yours, the thought of him seeing you bare, leaves your mind. You move to press yourself against the man as he rushes to meet you in a welcome kiss.

The kiss is anything but gentle as Geralt’s mouth envelopes your own. His fingers dancing along the exposed skin of your hips to your spine and ending their trail at your neck as his hands cradle your face.

“Geralt.” His name leaves your lips in a feather-light whisper, sending a pleasant sensation down his spine. You are both breathing heavily as you press your forehead to his own.

“It’s not true.” A frown settles into your brow as you become concerned, taking in the emotion of his eyes. “What they say about me. That I can’t feel anything.” Realisation settles in and your heart once more becomes erratic in your chest, being so closely pressed against his body, you know he can feel it too. “But I do. And I don’t know how love feels, but I think what I feel is love.” Geralt’s confession tugs strongly on your heartstrings. You have never heard him speak so much at once and never about feelings. His eyes do not meet yours as a pregnant pause stands between you. “But, you have Jask-“

“Jaskier?” When the Bard’s name leaves your mouth, his eyes flash to your own, holding your gaze as you stifle a laugh. “You think, Jaskier and I-?” You cannot finish your question before you burst into uncontrollable laughter. The image of you tipping your head back as you laugh, radiating such beauty in the light of the setting sun will be engrained in Geralt’s brain for as long as he will live.

“So, you and Jaskier-“

“Are just friends, Geralt.” There is still mirth in your voice as you speak, soothing the ache that had overtaken his heart. “I only have eyes for one man, Geralt, and he just so happens to be you.”

At your confession a rare smile spreads across his face, mirroring you own. He moves a hand to your face, stroking his thumb gently across the rise of your cheekbone.

“Just kiss me again, Witcher.” You pull Geralt’s face towards yours, pressing your lips to his own hungrily, savouring the taste of his kisses on your mouth. “And don’t ever stop.”

#geralt x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt imagines #geralt of rivia imagines #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill imagines #the Witcher #the Witcher imagines #the Witcher x reader #fanfic #writer #writing #requests are open

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Best Kept Secret

I’ve had this gem sitting in my drafts for a very long time as I had totally forgotten about it. But it is finally here and I am so happy with this bundle of joy.

Warnings: teensy bit of angst , just endless amounts of fluff

Buy Me a Coffee

“Can someone please explain to me why I’m being assigned to this mission?” Steve hadn’t even finished the sentence falling off of his tongue before Bucky had interrupted him. The rest of the team turned to look at him. A scoff leaves Tony’s mouth as he glares at the super-soldier.

“Buck.” Bucky crosses his arms as he raises his eyebrows, practically asking if Steve really wants to go there. He clenches his jaw and holds back the words that he so wants to say. The muscles in Bucky’s arms tense and go rigid as he stays silent. But being typical Tony, he has to assert himself further into the situation. Instantly, Nat rolls her eyes and relaxes back into the armchair, her eyes darting between Steve, Tony and the angry Bucky leaning against the furthest doorway.

“You see, James, we work as a team here.” Tony’s tone was cold and teasing as he clapped his hands together to enunciate his words.

Bucky turns his head to glare at Tony, the blue of his eyes darkening as he settles his gaze upon the man that tries to make every second miserable for him.

“Does it look like I was talking to you, Stark?”

“Would you stop wallowing in your own self-pity for just five minutes. There are more important issues than what’s going on in that broken little head of yours.”

“Tony, that’s enough.” Steve intervenes by grabbing Tony by the shoulder and pulling him back towards him. “Buck, I think it’s best if you just go.”

“No, he stays.” Tony spits the words in rage, his anger rising. “He’s going on this mission whether he likes it or not.”

“Ton-“

“He goes and that’s final.”

The sound of the door slamming into the wall causes the team to turn their heads towards where Bucky was previously stood. The door swinging back and forth from the force of Bucky’s strength, a crack now embedded in the concrete wall.

“Well done Tony.” Sam sarcastically mumbles as the rest of the team disperse to prepare themselves for their mission.

You are sitting on your bed, an unopened book in your hands, your head hanging forwards as you fall in and out of sleep when you hear the apartment door swing open. Bucky is silent as he enters and quietly closes it behind him. Jolting up, you turn and smile at him through the open doorway, acting as if he didn’t nearly just catch you dozing off.

“Hey.” Your voice is soft and gentle when you address him. The small smile falls from your face when you see his expression as he stalks through the sitting room and into the bedroom, towards the wardrobe on the far side. Carefully placing your book on the duvet next to you, you stand and tiptoe across the carpeted floor to stand next to him. As you wrap your hands around his torso, the muscles underneath your fingers instantly relax. A sigh leaving Bucky’s lips as he leans back into your touch.

“I can’t get out of this one, doll.” His words are heavy with guilt as he speaks. “I’m sorry.”

“James.” His name on your lips is music to his ears. You’re the only person he can even begin to tolerate calling him that. The only other person was his Mother.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“I have everything to apologise for.”

With a soft exhale, you place both of your palms against his cheeks, refusing to let him avoid eye contact.

“James, this is your job, I knew what I was getting myself into when I met you.” With a voice as soft as yours, Bucky can’t help but bathe in the love held within your gaze. It often makes him wonder what you lives would be like had you both been together during the forties, yet he cannot think this way for too long, the longing ache of his past life . “Now go and save the world.” A wave of sadness crosses his features before he places a chaste kiss against your lips, both hands running gently through your hair. It is only a fleeting moment before he regretfully pulls away, walking backwards slowly, never breaking eye contact until he reaches the door.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

True to his word, Bucky returns a week later as you are running a shallow bath, humming a soft lullaby in your shared bedroom. As he enters the apartment, he is careful to not make a sound. Yet the sight before him as he enters the dimly lit room has a breathe falling audibly from his lips. You turn to him, a small bundle held protectively in your arms.

“You’re home.” You move across to him with a spring in your step, throwing you free hand around his neck and pulling him as close as you can manage to your body. “We missed you.”

“I missed you both too.” As you move apart, Bucky cannot help but admire the small girl held within your arms, soundly asleep. “How long has she been out for?”

You chuckle at his question, knowing how much he loves to spend time with his daughter, especially when she is awake to entertain him.

“You need to be patient, James. I should expect that she’ll wake up in the next ten minutes or so.”

He nods with a soft grin on his face, admiring the sleeping infant in his arms.

“Go and take your bath, doll. I’ll watch her.” Before you can even protest, Bucky gives you a stern yet loving look. With a lingering kiss to his lips, you disappear into the bathroom to bathe.

During this time, Bucky sits with your daughter cradled in his arms as she stirs in her slumber, and as predicted by yourself, she wakes not ten minutes after you left the confines of the bedroom. She is grizzly as she wakes, fussing and crying as her blue eyes open, taking in the appearance of her father.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Seeming to relax at his voice, Bucky continues talking to the little girl, telling her stories of his own childhood.

Ever since her birth, you and Bucky were enamoured with your tiny creation – from the way she wiggles her toes and clenches her fingers to the colour of her eyes, that are identical to her father’s.

Yet she is still your little secret, the only other person aware of your little girl being Steve.

Between the both of you, you knew it would be in her best interests to keep her hidden away from the world for a little while, considering Buck’s job and the dangers that come along with it. But when the world is that little bit more safer and the both of you are ready, you’ll introduce her to her many aunts and uncles that reside at the compound.

And as Bucky basks in the love and joy of the moment, his first child wrapped carefully in his arms, the love of his life only metres away watching them adoringly from the bathtub, he can’t help but feel that everything that life had thrown at him had all lead to this moment – to his happy family. His best kept secret.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagines #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagines #buymeacoffee #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #dad!bucky barnes x reader #dad!bucky x reader #fluff

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Grilled Cheese (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Request: “Fluffy Bucky x reader where he comes home tired after a mission and just wants the reader to feed him his dinner and the reader finds it hilarious that this man used to be an assassin but now look at him. Thank you! ❤️”

Thanks to @sxbby-barnes for your request. Here’s a short piece of soft Bucky for you. I hope you like it!

Warnings: one curse word

Buy Me a Coffee

As Bucky enters the kitchen in your shared apartment, you can’t help but disguise a laugh. With a white towel draped low across his hips, short hair a tangled mess upon his head and an exhausted expression on his features, it seems unimaginable that this man is an Avenger and an ex-assassin amongst other titles. Watching as he lets out an audible exhale as he sits, you lean against the counter, an expression of amusement on your face.

“You alright there soldier?” Bucky’s eyebrows raise as he looks up towards you, the dark shadows underneath his eyes more noticeable in the light above the dining table. You realise that he is struggling to keep his tired eyes open, yet he had expressed his hunger as soon as he had walked through the apartment doorway.

Whilst he showered, you had prepared a quick grilled cheese, one of his favourites. As soon as he eats, his grumpiness will subside and you know he will sleep like a baby afterwards through until morning.

Taking the plate from beside you on the countertop, you sidle over to the table, taking a seat opposite Bucky and slide it across the wooden tabletop in front of him. He steadily eyes the food before looking back to you again.

“What’s wrong?” A slight panic sets in as you think of all the things that can be causing this behaviour.

“Feed me.” His voice is pleading as he speak, voice low and full of fatigue. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle, yet the look on his face reads complete seriousness.

“Shit, you’re being serious?”

“Please.” The blue of his eyes shimmer as he meets your gaze and you cannot help but do as he asks. Never before had you witnessed him this tired, this run down.

You bring the plate back towards you, and taking a slice of the grilled bread, you break off a bite sized amount, holding it between your fingers. The interaction between you both is not so uncommon on date and move nights, but this feels so much more intimate, more loving than before. A soft smile reaches Bucky’s lips as he takes the food from your fingers, his tongue swiping the tip of your finger causing you to giggle. You can tell he is too tired to play along with you, but it is safe to say that the both of you are enjoying yourselves. Him for exerting no energy to eat and you for seeing him so innocent and relaxed.

Once he has eaten, you tell him to go to bed, to rest. He only leaves the room on the promise that you will join him shortly, wanting to fall asleep in your arms after being away for so long. After washing the dishes you enter the room to find him already fast asleep, face pushed against the softness of your pillows, his body sprawled across the mattress at a diagonal angle. With care, you slowly lower yourself onto the bed, moulding your body into his side, gentle as to not wake the sleeping super-soldier.

“Goodnight, my love.” Your whispered words are met with a soft snore from his mouth as you place a loving kiss to his forehead, setting against him it does not take you long to fall asleep along with him.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #Sebastian Stan x reader #Sebastian Stan imagines #Sebastian Stan #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagines #requests are open #fluff #Bucky fluff

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I’ve nearly finished all of my current requests. Please feel free to send in some more for when I am ready to take on some new ones.

Characters I write for:

Bucky Barnes

Peter Parker

Alfie Solomons

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Geralt of Rivia

New Characters I will be writing for:

Draco Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Neville Longbottom

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peter Parker x reader #Sam winchester x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Fred Weasley x reader #George Weasley x reader #Neville longbottom x reader #Harry Potter imagines #mcu imagines #the Witcher imagines #the witcher x reader #supernatural imagines

[cap-winter-barnes]

Talk To Me (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Request: Hey ! Would it be possible if I got a Sam Winchester fic? The reader is super nervous around him so he confronts her about it because he mistook her nervousness for fear or anxiety. Reader awkwardly confesses n then lots of fluff? 🥺

@anxiousbarnes - I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting! I did do this a little differently to the request itself so I hope that this is okay.

Warnings: blood, mentions of death

Buy Me a Coffee

Blood coats my fingers as I press my hands harder against Sam’s stomach, the wound he has sustained turning his skin a deathly shade of grey.

“Please hang in there Sammy.” My voice comes out weak and broken as I beg for him to stay alive, trying to ignore how much darker the liquid that coats my own skin is becoming. Everything moves in slow motion as Dean barrels into the room, pausing momentarily as he takes in the sight before him. He immediately removes his over-shirt and screws it into a ball as he falls to his knees beside me, pressing it gently to the source of the bleeding. It only takes a few seconds for the material to soak up the blood and Dean looks at me with complete fear in his eyes, tears already spilling down his cheeks.

Both of us know that there is only one way that Sam is going to walk away from this and the one person that can help has been missing for the last few months, hopefully now will be the time that he responds to our prayers.

Time stands still as Sam’s breathing is barely noticeable, his eyelids ceasing any movement.

“Sam, please. I can’t lose you. Please.” I stroke his hair back from his face as I feel my heart aching in my chest, so this is what it is like to be heartbroken. Dean watches sadly at my interaction, eyes red and bloodshot, his tears had stopped when he realised Cas wouldn’t be coming.

“Did you ever tell him?” Dean’s voice startles me from my trance as I look up towards him. He had always known, even since we were children growing into young adults, how I felt about Sam. Yet, after all these years he has never said a word to his brother, only giving you an outlet to voice your feelings comfortably without judgement. “Y/N.”

I shake my head as fresh tears begin to spill, my lip trembling, caught between my teeth.

“Dean, I-“ Before I can speak there is a blinding stream of white, causing the both of us to shield our eyes. A few seconds pass before the light dissipates and before us stands our guardian angel.

“De-“

“Can you save him?” After waiting for what felt like a lifetime for Castiel to appear, Dean has no patience for greetings or niceties. The angel closes his mouth, and taking a fleeting glance at the younger Winchester, he hums a response followed by a curt nod of his head.

Kneeling over Sam, Castiel begins to heal him, although it is clear that there is a struggle from within him to do so, a weakness. Dean takes my bloody hand within his own, squeezing reassuringly, a silent promise that all will be okay.

I watch Castiel’s actions carefully as he heals Sam, hoping that his efforts will not be futile, noticing how his chest is being to rise and fall more prominently than before. The dread and pain that was newly settled in my chest fading until there was only hope.

Like waking from a bad dream, Sam lurches forwards, coughing and spluttering as he does so. Eyes wide with panic, searching the area until his gaze meets Dean and I. The realisation that he is okay and truly alive has me stumbling to my feet and a nervousness seeping into my bones – I nearly lost the man I love and he could have died without knowing how I feel.

Although I know it to be selfish, I cannot stay any longer in this place. Instead, I flee to a clearing in the trees, turning with one last glance to make sure that my eyes are not telling lies, before I take my leave and stumble back to where Dean had parked Baby hours prior.

In the safety of the impala, I let out a shaky breath, exaggerating each inhale and exhale as I try to calm myself. Flowing waves of sorrow and regret envelope me as I think of how close we had been to losing him.

“Y/N, I’m going on a supply run. You want anything?” Sam’s voice cuts through the bunker’s kitchen as he enters the doorway, his body resting against the framework.

“Er, I-“ I berate yourself in my head for being so nervous around him, my stuttering unbearably embarrassing. I can feel a flush quickly spreading across my neck and cheeks under his gaze. “I, erm.”

Sam chuckles softly, yet mocking me or to save me from myself, I do not know.

“How about I surprise you, huh?” Not trusting my own words any longer, I nod my head enthusiastically, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear as he leaves the room. Once I am sure he is gone, I relax back into my chair, a loud exhale leaving my lips as Dean enters the room, a smug grin on his face.

“Not now, Dean.”

“You should tell him, Y/N. Tell him exactly how you feel and all of this embarrassment will go away.”

“De-“

“Trust me, what’s the worst that could happen.”

Since Sam returned to us from the clutches of Lucifer, not only has my attraction for him remained but my confidence around the hunter has lessened. One fateful night, after unknowingly and partially confessing my love for him, Lucifer had revealed himself. Never in my life have I felt so mortified and to then be belittled by the devil himself only amplified the negative thoughts and emotions in my head. And although I know that Sam is now free of Lucifer, the fear of truly being honest with Sam and revealing my love, still has me trembling, the fear of rejection too overbearing.

After what feels like infinity, I see Sam and Dean trailing back to the Impala, Dean holding back some. Even covered in blood, Sam is still strikingly handsome and my heart flutters, as always, at the sight of him. Yet, as Dean ceases his approach, lingering at the tree-line, a panic sets itself in my chest, spreading under my skin. As Sam opens the Impala door, my hands begin to violently shake in my lap.

“Hey.” Clenching my fists tightly, I look over to the younger Winchester, giving him a soft smile.

“Hey, Sammie. How ar-“

“Are you scared of me?” His question alerts me to the unease in his voice as well as his demeanour as he looks at me, concern in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath and steadying myself, I turn to face him completely.

“No, Sam. I’m not- I’m not scared of you.”

“So, what is it?”

“I-“ Never one to push too much, Sam stays quiet, the look of complete trust in his eyes spurring me on. “I’m in love with you, Sam. And, I have been for a very long time.”

Silence ensues as a nauseous feeling settles into my stomach, the expression on Sam’s face not giving me an reprieve.

“Why did you not say anything before?”

All I can muster is a shrug, my hands less shaky, but I can’t help put pull at the skin around my nails as I wait for him to say something, anything.

“Is it because you didn’t think I would feel the same way? Because, that’s so far from the truth, like you wouldn’t believe. I have been in love with you for such a long time, I’m surprised Dean hasn’t opened his mouth and-“

He is rambling now, gesticulating with every word that leaves his mouth. Looking anywhere but at you he stops and chuckles to himself.

“You love me?” I am surprised that my voice is so steady as I speak and as Sam nods his head in confirmation of his feelings for me, I can’t help but let out a lighthearted scoff. Upon making eye contact, the both of us begin to laugh and when Sam takes my hand, tracing my knuckles with the pad of his thumb, I can’t help but think that this feels right. Being with Sam feels right.

Little do we know, that in five minutes time as we drive back to the bunker, that Dean is going to set some house rules.

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