so I was thinking about how lucky it was that Neil survived Baltimore and I thought it was kinda like someone put a protection charm on him bc Stuart showed up at the exact right time. then I was like “okay who out of all the foxes would be a witch?” and it hit me duh it would definitely be Andrew so here’s my pagan Andrew hc
It started with his interest in greek mythology. One of his foster homes had a massive library that caught his attention. Of course, he wasn’t there for long— Andrew never stayed at a home for more than a few weeks— so, along with a volume of the collected works of Shakespeare, he stole a book on Greek and Roman mythology.
He got through that book relatively quickly and wanted to know more. At first, he wanted to read about more obscure Greek myths, but when he went to Barnes & Noble (because he would never steal from an independent bookstore) a book about Norse mythology caught his eye.
He read up on as many different mythologies as he could find. Once he moved in with the Spears, Cass bought him all the mythology books he wanted, though Andrew never asked for them. She’d noticed the couple of books he lugged around and decided to buy him some more. Andrew never said thank you, but Cass knew he appreciated them because, within days, there’d be a million tabs sticking out of them.
It all stopped once Andrew went away to Juvie. The library they had there was just sad. They had one book on Greek myth and it was all of the basics that Andrew had already read a million times over.
Andrew hated his uncle as soon as he saw him. He hated Tilda even more. Tilda wasn’t really religious, but his uncle and aunt sure were. It was hard to piss off Tilda since she barely gave two shits about him, but he needed to take his anger out on someone. That left his aunt and uncle. They were the ones who put him in this situation in the first place. They were the ones who let Aaron stay here and get hurt. They were to blame for this as well.
Andrew didn’t believe in God. He never did. Not even when one of his first foster houses forced the kids to go to church every sunday. He was small and impressionable then, but the foster house before that one had made him lose any hope that there might be a God watching over him and keeping him safe.
During his time reading about different deities, he found out that people still worshipped them. Pagans. Witches. Wiccans. They worked with and worshipped the old gods. That had caught Andrew’s attention, but he learned about it just before juvie so he never had a chance to look more into it.
Now he did. He knew being a witch would piss Luther off more than anything. Luther had been trying to lead Andrew down a spiritual path, but Andrew wasn’t having any of it. He looked into witchcraft, bought a bunch of books on it. He learned the basics first: protection spells, what different crystals did, the wheel of the year. He started to practice reading tarot cards and even got a pendulum.
Andrew was obnoxious about his practice around Luther and Maria. They told him that he could be saved if he converted, that witchcraft was the will of the Devil. Andrew told him what he learned about Lucifer as an entity and how he was completely different from the Devil. He told them that Pagan’s didn’t believe in hell. “How can I fear damnation if I don’t believe in it?”
The more he practiced the more he believed. His tarot reading came up right every single time. His spells started to work too. At first, it was just little things like luck for a test in school or motivation to finish an essay. He got more confident in his spells, using them to help the people he cared about more than on himself. He cast a luck spell on Nicky after he heard about what his parents were doing to him when they found out he was gay. Soon after, he went to study abroad in Germany. He found someone who helped him out of the hole he’d been in.
Months past, Tilda was still hurting Aaron. Andrew had threatened her to keep his hands off him many times, but she wouldn’t listen. The plan took a little while to formulate, but once he was ready, he cast his first hex. It exhausted him. He felt like he’d played a full game of exy. Though he knew he had to keep going. He’d casted a protection spell on himself before the hex, but he needed an even stronger one if he was going to survive what he was about to do.
He was tired, but determined. Aaron was pretending to be him somewhere else at the moment, so he had to pretend to be Aaron. He wasn’t worried that Tilda could tell the difference. They’d done this a few times before and Tilda never suspected a thing.
The car crashed. Tilda died. Andrew lived, somewhat unscathed.
Nicky came back from Germany when he heard. Andrew kept practicing. He celebrated the Sabbats, oftentimes Nicky would join him even though he was Christian. He didn’t want Andrew to have to celebrate alone. Sometimes, he’d even get Aaron to join in.
When Kevin came into the picture, he started casting protection spells on him. He’d place crystals in his pockets to help with his arm and anxiety. He’d draw sigils in the back of Kevin’s notebooks.
He put a hex on Riko the minute he found out he broke Kevin’s arm. Those worked well enough in the end.
He looked into truth spells once Neil Josten came to Palmetto, though he never used any of them. He’d never do a spell that took away anyone’s free will. Hermes, his patron, wouldn’t approve anyway.
He missed Yule while he was at Easthaven. He couldn’t do anything for it besides meditate and try to communicate with his deities in astral. He was good enough at casting protection charms on himself without any materials, but not so good at astral projecting.
Once he got out, he placed some protection spells on Neil too. He didn’t want to admit it, but now that he was sober, he couldn’t blame the feelings he had for Neil on his meds. He wanted to keep Neil safe. It was part of their deal, sure, but he also did it to feel less like something was going to jump out and grab Neil at any second.
He cleansed his dorm for Imbolc. Aaron and Nicky were used to Andrew spritzing rain water everywhere on the first of February. Kevin looked at him funny as he came out of his room, but didn’t say anything. Just like he didn’t say anything about the crystals and sigils.
His tarot reading for Imbolc said he would open up more. He thought he’d read his cards wrong, but his clarifiers confirmed it. He thought it was bullshit until Eden’s. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.” It kept happening as Neil followed him to the roof more and more often. Then, they kissed. Andrew wanted Neil to push him away, to tell him no, but he wouldn’t.
They kept messing around. Andrew kept slipping crystals into Neil’s pockets. He even made him a tiger’s eye keychain since Andrew knew Neil always had his keys on him. He knew how important keys were to Neil, so he knew he’d never lose them.
That is until their match against the Bearcats. The riot after the game caused Andrew to go after Aaron and Kevin. He wanted to go after Neil first, but he remembered that they broke their deal. He forced himself to look away from Neil. He assured himself that Neil was safe. He had his tiger’s eye keychain. He had the protection spell Andrew always casts before they leave for away games.
Though, when they all got on the bus, Neil was nowhere to be found. He went back out and only came up with Neil’s duffle bag. He dug through it and found his keys tucked inside. Andrew started to panic, though he didn’t show it. He forced some answers out of Kevin and they were on their way to Baltimore.
Andrew sat in his usual seat. He was the most fidgety he’d ever been since getting off his meds. He couldn’t cast any protection spells since he didn’t have the right supplies, but he did hold onto Neil’s tiger’s eye and prayed to Hermes to keep Neil safe.
He didn’t quite understand what happened until Neil explained everything. The thing about magick was that it was unpredictable. When Andrew found out that Neil’s father was still alive, he wanted a way to keep him away from Neil permanently. He couldn’t find the right hex to use, so he tried to manifest his death instead. Manifestation is tricky. If you’re not extremely specific, there’s no telling how it’d play out.
His protection spells had worked to an extent, it’s just that his manifestation worked more. Neil was saved at the last second by his uncle, but he still had major wounds. Nathan Wesninski was dead at least, though that didn’t stop Andrew from blaming himself for not being more thorough.
After Neil’s arms healed a bit and after Neil started wearing the armbands Andrew got him, Andrew would draw protection sigils on his arms while they were sitting on the roof. They were covered during the day, most of the time Neil just sweated them off, but Neil swooned every time Andrew did it. It was a sign that he cared, truly cared, about Neil.
Additionally, Sir is Andrew’s familiar. Don’t ask me why it’s not King because idk it’s just the vibe
Also eventually Neil starts giving Andrew things he finds on his hikes because Neil’s a little goblin boy and he knows that Andrew could use some of the things in rituals or as offerings
They also do a handfasting ritual on the Beltane after they get married. They got married mostly because Andrew didn’t want to have to fight with the nurses to let him see Neil if he got hurt or vice versa. Weddings don’t have value to Andrew, but handfasting rituals do, so they did one in this meadow they like to go to sometimes and had a picnic afterward
anyway I like projecting onto my favorite characters so thanks for letting me indulge i would very much like Andrew to celebrate the sabbats with me. I’m a kitchen witch, he likes sweets, it’s the perfect combination
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How Many Shots Would it Take for Me to Hook Up With Haikyuu Characters
PSA: It’s not hard to get me drunk and I’m dtf like 65% of the time so like I get like decently drunk off of 4 shots so...
Also we’re aging up everyone cuz some of these kids are like 15 and I am actually 19 so
WARNINGS: Sexual themes, HQ character slander lol, lots of swearing
- Karasuno -
Daichi: Ehhhhh let’s say 3 or 4. This man is hot but I’m turned off by the fact that he becomes a cop and he’s just not really my type 🤷🏻♀️ but he has the thickest thighs for sure so like I’d let him dick me down
Suga: hahahaha literally maybe 1 cuz I’m a pussy but like what a hottie honestly. Like you know he can get freaky what else would drunk me even want in a hookup?
Asahi: I’m so sorry but actually like so many. Like at least 5. He’s a sweetheart but he is too soft and gentle like I- it’s just not the move
Noya: Hello Noya is in my top 5 favorite Haikyuu characters and it would take me 5+ shots to hook up with him. Reason 1: He is baby. Reason 2: He is so short and so full of energy like he is literally a chihuahua I don’t want those vibes in my hoo hah.
Tanaka: Look at this boy! He is a puppy basically. 7+ shots. He would call me mommy or some shit and I’m not about that life. I also can’t imagine him seducing me successfully.
Kageyama: Okay so he literally so beautiful. And oh so awkward. 4 shots. Like the tail end of them too like peak drunkenness of 4 shots. He probably doesn’t have a lot of sex even as an adult rip Kags don’t want a guy with no experience in a hookup sry
Hinata: Like 7? Even as an adult he is literally a baby. That’s all I have to say
Tsukki: Um probably 2. If he asked me to hook up with him I’d be down. He’s an asshole but that’s kind of perfect hookup material so what can I say
Yams: I love this boy. He’s also kind of ballsy and that’s sexy of him. 3 shots.
Kiyoko: 🥺I love her so much. 1 shot only because I know she ends up with Tanaka so I’d feel bad for sleeping with his girl. That would be the softest hookup and like I love her.
Yachi: She’s cute but we’d both be fumbling around so awkwardly and she’d be so awkward and I would too because she’s adorable so like probably 6 shots cuz then hopefully by then it’d be more hilarious than awkward
- Nekoma -
Kuroo: Literally sober. He’s gorgeous and probably awkward enough about sex that I wouldn’t need a shot of courage cuz I feel like we’d be on the same level yenno? He doesn’t intimidate me lol
Yaku: like 2 to get over the fact that he’s the same height as me. He doesn’t’ remind me of a puppy like Noya does so I’m down
Yamamoto: Like 12 because I hate his hair and let’s just say Kenma and I were on the same wavelength about this man
Kenma: Like 4 purely because I read a headcanon that said he doesn’t clean up that well down there and I am traumatized by that.
Lev: 5 because yeah he’s a fucking hot model bitch but also like he is always baby who was awful at receives like I can’t get that image out of my mind easily
Fukunaga: Let’s say 5 for him because he’s a weirdo but like he’s also adorable? Drunk me could probably get behind that.
- Aoba Johsai -
Oikawa: UM?? Literally 0. If this man wants my pussy he can have it 100%. He’s literally gorgeous and you know he probably gets around. 100% sober. I think I’m flirty enough to keep up with him too so it’d be a blast
Mattsun and Makki: Um let’s say 3 shots for Mattsun and 4 for Makki. Makki’s design creeps me out a little but they’re both homies so
Iwaizumi: Okay like 4 shots honestly because he would intimidate me so much. I’d need to be inebriated to have enough confidence to sleep with this man.
- Fukurodani -
Bokuto: my heart 🥺 I love this boy to death and it would only take me 2 shots to hook up with him but I would try to have the softest, giggliest sex because I love him and he might be very dissatisfied bc who has a drunk hookup for soft sex or very happy cuz he’s giggly and soft also
Akaashi: HOLY SHIT. Okay. I am deadass in LOVE with this man and I would not want to fuck things up but I’m so bad at not being flirty and affectionate when I’m drunk so it would take approximately 3 shots before I would hook up with him. I’d stress the whole next day that he hated me and that I ruined my chances. But maybe if he agreed to hook up that means he likes me who knows anymore.
Konoha: This guy is hot. 1 shot because I don’t care enough about him to be too worried about the consequences. Plus he doesn’t strike me as a sex god so I wouldn’t be too intimidated. Perfect one night stand material
- Shiratorizawa -
Ushijima: Um? Fuck no. Like 12 shots. Deadass. He’s not that hot and he’s so awkward and blunt. Sex between him and I would be awful and nothing about him is attractive to me but his hair
Semi: Like half of a shot. He’s hotter than Konoha and gives me the same vibes. One night stand material right here. Don’t care enough about him to worry about the consequences.
Tendo: Listen, I’m sure we’d make great friends but I can’t imagine sleeping with him. Actually like 8/9 shots. Not the move for me.
- Inarizaki -
Kita: Hi you’re adorable but also intimidating and even the other Inarizaki boys can admit that. 5 shots.
Aran: 2 shots. I don’t care enough about him to be worried, but he’s still kind of intimidating to me so I need the courage to agree.
Atsumu: This is a mix of Oikawa’s and Akaashi’s tbh. On one hand if he wants me like deadass take me but also he’s super cute but he’s also kind of intimidating?? I’d be scared. So let’s say 2 shots. I imagine he’d be able to convince me pretty easily even after just 1 though. Cuz he’s hot and he’s probably good too.
Osamu: Oh my- sober. Deadass. You know he’s gotta be good. And he’s literally perfect one night stand material. You know he wouldn’t make things awkward the next day and could def just keep being friends after. And he’s gorgeous 😩 Atsumu without the drama and feelings.
Suna: He’s cute but not that cute to me and he has no emotions I’d be so intimidated. 4 shots.
- Other -
Sakusa: You think this man is having one night stands? Hook ups? Absolutely not. This man wouldn’t even put himself in an environment where that would be possible. But if he did… still like 5 shots because he’s so angsty and I’d be scared
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Truth Pt. 11
Truth Master List
Request:
What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings
Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)
Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)
Warnings: Feels, mentions of addiction, violence
A/N: HELLO MY DARLING PRECIOUS PATIENT PUMPKINS! Did you miss these two? I know I did. This starts off domestic and then veers into like two-three completely different territories. It’s a ride that’s for sure.
I hope y’all like it!
Tags are open!
@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes
He stills your hands with his. Your eyes meet his, tears sneaking down your cheeks. He wipes them away.
“You keep your memories displayed… I shove mine in a box under my bed…”
When you had pulled all of this out you were on the verge of completely melting down. Days without sleep, hardly eating, seeing that woman’s face over and over again, the flashbacks… You wanted to remember what you were before you became a monster.
It only served to remind you of everything you lost. That’s when you’d gone to the gym when Bucky found you… You’d forgotten your misguided attempt to keep yourself together until there it was spread on your unmade bed.
There wasn’t much. Your family hadn’t been big on photos, just a few posed pictures, school photos, some holidays. But you loved photos… A grotesque amount of polaroids of your friends… people whose names you forgot or who were possibly long gone… at shows, parties, on the street. Glazed eyes, leather jackets, cigarettes hanging between smudged lips are spread out.
Maybe the names alluded you for some but you could smell the sweat, the smoke, the whiskey. Faded flyers from underground shows at Safari Club and other D.C. and East Coast punk venues add pops of color to the mix. A few misbegotten AA coins peak out to remind you of wasted time.
You pick one up as he looks over at a photo of 15-year-old you standing stiffly between your parents in front of a Christmas tree. Your expression annoyed, kohl heavily lining your eyes, hair bleached within an inch of its life and huge.
“Is this you?!” A smile curls his lips and you almost laugh.
“Yeah, don’t judge me too much… it was the 80’s.” You flip the coin in the air and catch it. “Probably the last Christmas I spent sober.”
His brow knits and you sigh. “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m a cocaine addict… and an alcoholic... and… you get the gist.” You toss the coin at him. He looks it over. “Nine months… as long as I ever got.” Picking up the photo of you and your parents you feel your chest tighten.
“She wanted me to be perfect. Her pride. Pushed me to be the best at everything. I was a nationally ranked athlete, excelled in everything from cross-country to martial arts, incredible at any art she threw at me, damn near a genius, graduated high school at 15, got into every Ivy League school…”
Setting it aside you pick up a photo of you and someone who’s name you do remember, Dana, your first girlfriend. “I was even excellent at being a drug addict, never OD’d, high tolerance… Others weren’t so lucky.” You toss the photo aside, not wanting to linger.
Bucky takes your hand, lacing his fingers through your own. “Who kept these for you? Family?”
“I don’t have any family.”
“But… anyone? I mean… you’re so young?”
You snort, “Is 47 young?” Jesus, you were almost 50… such a strange thought.
“Well,” he laughs a small empty sound, “in comparison.”
You nod conceding. “My Mom… she lost her family in the war… in the camps,” you can’t look at Bucky. “Dad was an only child. Fury kept them tucked away in a storage locker at S.H.I.E.L.D. after…”
He nods, “He knew your father didn’t he?”
“Yeah, they worked together…” You release his hand and push through photos to find your favorite of you and your Dad. It was from that nine-month stint of sobriety, he’d been so happy that you’d been doing well that on your 20th birthday he took you to Paris. His smile was so bright… your hand trembles a bit.
“You look happy here,” Bucky rests his cool left hand on your bouncing knee as he looks at you and your Dad, posed in typical cheesy tourist fashion in front of the Eiffel Tower.
“I was… we were…” Your voice cracks. “I never knew what he did… just thought he was some low-level diplomat, never questioned it… I don’t even know that Mom knew…”
“Was she here?”
“God no,” your eyes slide shut for a moment, remembering. “She was hardly speaking to me… I was a disappointment.”
“She didn’t…”
“Tell me that? Oh yes.” You hold up a hand as he opens his mouth, “I don’t know that she was wrong. I… I did everything I could to be the opposite of what she wanted me to be. I doused her American Dream in gasoline and set it on fire…”
“Still you’re not-”
You shrug, “Doesn’t matter. I… never got to prove otherwise.” Your eyes scan your memories, hazy and painful as most of them were.
“They killed her, ya know? Hydra…”
He gives your knee a gentle squeeze, “I assumed.”
“After my last go at rehab… I really thought… I was going to be better, I wanted to be better. Go to school, live my life, make her proud. They took that away… left her bloody on the kitchen floor.” Your skin tingles, energy pulsing through you.
“I… what about your Dad?” The look on his face is pained like he doesn’t want to ask but feels like he must.
“He killed himself.” You shake your head, “At least that’s what the official report says. “Makes sense though… wife dead, daughter missing, all because you were getting a little too close.” Glancing over at his smiling face a tear slides down your cheek, “Who could blame him?”
A small sob trips over your lips and Bucky pulls you into him. Surprising yourself still, you allow him to comfort you and allow yourself to feel this… to mourn them even a little.
Ever since being here you had tried to bury the guilt and the grief. Thinking about the void they left in you, the years you wasted, the final image of her… dead for days collapsed by the back door… It was too much. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d been there, instead of in rehab, you could have saved her… even though you knew the ending would have been the same.
After a bit your sobs quiet. He’s leaned against the headboard, you’re curled into his arms, the steady beat of his heart soothing. When you look up at him his eyes are so soft, warm despite the cool color. The feeling of his fingers gently grazing your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair from your face sends shivers through you.
“Sorry…”
He smiles, “For what? Having feelings?” You shrug a little. “Well if you want to make it up to me,” he reaches across the bed a bit and grabs a picture of you sporting a particularly heinous head of Aquanet enforced hair looking like some combo of Cindy Lauper and a Clash groupie, “explain this.”
You can’t help but laugh and agree to explain your questionable fashion choices.
The rest of the day is spent intermittently cleaning your apartment and telling Bucky what you remember of who you once were. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He listens and most importantly doesn’t judge.
When you put on some music from your own youth he's not too pleased. It was safe to say that bands such as Bad Religion and Misfits were maybe not his speed. However, he’s much more in tune with Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and surprisingly The Runaways.
“I’d say you’ll pass inspection,” Bucky says as he puts your mop in the closet.
“Definitely.” You look around and feel oddly sad. His place really was so much warmer than yours. It felt like someone actually lived there, rather than just existing.
“What’s wrong?” Your face must be showing your disdain.
“Nothing,” you flash him a smile. “So… got any dinner plans?”
The smile that lights up his face takes your breath away, “None.” He grabs your waist and pulls you close to kiss you.
“How about I cook? Your place?”
“You cook?”
“I mean, I’m no Julia Child but I can promise it will be better than those packaged meals in your fridge.”
He laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.” You grab some things from your own kitchen and a change of clothes, which he doesn’t even question before you both head down to his place.
-
Five days later Bucky watches you slip into a pair of leggings as he sips his coffee.
“Are you sure you can’t even have some coffee?”
You roll your eyes, “I’m sure, 12 hours fasting for the tests.”
“You don’t have-” You cut him off with a glare. “Fine. But if you decide you want me there-”
“I’ll call. I promise.” You toss on a tee and a cardigan.
He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. “Hey,” you pluck the coffee from his hands and set it on the nightstand, “I’ll be ok, Buck.” Cupping his face in your hands you place a kiss on his lips. He can feel his heart stutter just a touch, he wonders if it will ever go away. You release him and he buries his face in your chest, breathing in your now familiar scent.
When he lifts his head your smile makes his breath catch. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Your soft lips press against his forehead. All he can do is nod.
As soon as the door closes he feels himself wilt a bit, anxiety rising with each passing moment. He wants to believe you but he knows they could accidentally trigger something in you. Be it a memory or a reaction with your power, either could have horrible consequences.
After almost an hour of running worst case scenarios, he can’t stay here anymore. He tosses on some gym clothes and texts Steve to see if he’s free to train. Bucky’s already to the gym when he gets a response of ‘No, sorry pal.’
Sighing he turns around and heads to the shooting range. Clint is already there, experimenting with some new arrows Tony whipped up for him. While Bucky usually prefers to be here alone, he doesn’t necessarily mind Clint. He’s a fellow sniper after all and doesn’t ever seem to want to force Bucky into conversations he’d rather not have.
The two men shoot in silence for a little more than an hour before Clint pipes up. “So, you and Y/N seem to have taken a turn for the better.” He’s taken up the spot next to Bucky under the pretense of changing his angle.
“What of it?” He may like Clint but the thought of sharing details of his private life isn’t high on his to-do list.
“Nothing. I think it’s great.”
“Yeah, you and Romanoff seemed to have an opinion the other day.” Bucky’s tone is gruff remembering Clint’s quip about her owing him.
He laughs, “Just a good-natured bet. I saw the chemistry between you two.” Bucky doesn’t respond. Some mix of anger and embarrassment blooming in his chest.
“Look, man,” Clint has stepped out of his booth and is leaning on the wall between them, “people like us should take any chance at love we can and run with it. It’s rare enough for civilians and most of them don’t spend their free time getting shot at.”
The tone in his voice drips with sincerity and Bucky can’t help but look back at him, the glare quickly melting off his face. “Who said anything about love?”
Clint shakes his head smiling, “You’ll be one lucky bastard if it ends up being that Barnes. Even if it doesn’t, friends are worth a whole hell of a lot too.” He claps a hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder, “As soldiers, it’s sometimes hard to allow ourselves to be happy. You deserve it. Promise.” Bucky says nothing for a minute and Clint nods, walking away.
“Thank you,” Bucky’s tone is low, sort of unsure. He does mean it though…
“You got-”
“Sargent Barnes and Agent Barton, you’re both needed in Mr. Stark’s lab immediately.” Jarvis’ voice cuts Clint off and Bucky feels the blood drain from his face. The two men hold one another’s gaze for a fraction of a second, a flood of emotion and information being exchanged in that one fleeting moment, before sprinting to the elevator.
When they burst out of the elevator they’re met by Steve and Natasha. Everything seems fine, nothing is on fire or blown to bits so that has to be a good sign. Still, as soon as he’s got eyes on you nothing could keep him back.
You’re sitting in a chair, wires stuck to you all over leading to a computer, tendrils of white light pulsing beneath your skin. “Y/N?!”
“Hey! I’m fine,” his hands are lightly grazing your body where the wires touch you, eyes frantically searching your own for any signs of distress. “Really, Bucky, I’m fine.”
You do seem ok. He wishes he was. His heart is thundering, muscles tense, ready and willing to do whatever he needed to keep you safe. Taking a shaky breath he rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm himself.
“Sorry if we scared you, Manchurian.” Tony quips from beside the computer as he pops a baby carrot in his mouth. Bucky shoots daggers at him.
“They were able to get a lock on the specific energy signature I emit pretty quick and scan for it. We found a match.” His eyes shoot back to you, unsure if you’re glad they found something or not.
“Well,” Bruce pipes up from another monitor, “near enough anyway. Too close to her unique signature to be a coincidence.”
“Another base?” Natasha asks from behind Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, unable to move away.
“That’s what we were hoping you and Clint could clear up for us,” Tony flicks some images up so everyone can see the area they narrowed the signal down to.
Your eyes dart between the two and Bucky finally looks back. The map shows a spot just outside of Cleveland. Yet another nondescript building, nothing that says den of torture about it at all. Clint and Natasha exchange a look.
“Yeah,” she holds a finger to her lips for a minute thinking. “We may have something on this, didn’t seem like much so it’s low on the list.”
“Well, it’s top priority now.” Bucky doesn’t like the tone in Steve’s voice. It’s the one he gets when he’s going to do whatever bullheaded thing he has in mind no matter the consequences.
He sees you nod in his peripheral. “When’s the soonest we can head out?”
Bucky’s glare shoots back to you. “Absolutely not!”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not doing this.” His tone is just as stubborn as Steve’s, if not a bit more so.
You scoff, “Oh? I’m not?”
“No. You are not.”
“I hate to break it to you but you don’t get to tell me what I am and am not going to do, Bucky.” Your eyes darken just a touch as the air around you dips just a touch toward cool.
“After last time you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?!”
“No. But I’m the only one who can properly handle these assets if they attack. I’m the only one who understands even a little how this energy functions. I’m the only one-”
He can’t believe this. “So you’re just gonna throw yourself back into that?! After what almost… after… Y/N you’re being-”
“I’m doing what needs to be done. I cannot in good consciousness allow this to pass unchecked. Too many people are at risk if-”
“This isn’t a negotiation!” He bellows. “You’re my-”
“I don’t give a damn what I am to you or you to me.” It feels like you punched him in the chest. “You don’t give me orders, Barnes.”
When you look away from him to Natasha the dismissal is clear. “There’s some good surveillance footage of the area from local businesses security and traffic cams. Should be enough to establish patterns. After last time we know trying to scan is a lost cause.”
Bucky feels his rage prickle under his skin. You don’t look back to him when you’re done. Huffing he stands and stalks to the elevator, unable to be a part of this ill-begotten plan a moment longer.
-
“You know he’s coming right?” Natasha’s tone is light but she knows her words are heavy.
“Yeah.” You clip the stabilizer cuffs Tony made for you onto your belt. They were just a prototype and only to be used if you felt like you were about to lose it but they still felt strangely comforting to have. Nothing like the comfort you’d felt with Bucky… who you hadn’t seen in three days.
“Assuming you still haven’t spoken to him?”
“Not much to say.” You don’t want to have this conversation now.
“That’s bullshit.” She slips her Widow’s Bites on.
You shrug, “No. You heard how he spoke to me. In front of everyone. Like I was a fucking child like he could just say no and I’d say yessir.”
“He’s from a different time, Y/N.”
“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not 1945.” You slam your gear locker closed. “Plus, not like he’s spoken to me either.”
You barely catch a glimpse of him before he gets on the jet. Grinding your teeth you hang back for just a second.
“Need me to whoop his ass,” Sam says from behind you.
“That is not a fight I’d care to see.” You sigh, “But no. Just think we got ahead of ourselves is all.”
“Well,” he slings an arm over your shoulder, “you’ve still got me, kid.”
You laugh, “You do remember that I’m older than you right?”
“Psh, age is just a number. I got one of them old souls”
As usual Sam’s ridiculousness puts a smile on your face and by the time the two of you are boarding the jet you’re cackling. That all fades the moment you feel Bucky’s stare. Steeling yourself for the uncomfortable mission ahead you keep your eyes averted and your mind on the prize.
Things have gone smoothly for the most part. Some minor scuffles, every computer has been beyond destroyed, and no files that tell you a goddamn thing to be found but less than an hour into the mission and it seems this will be in and out. You’re not even sensing any of the telltale energy like you did last time.
You’ve all spread out a bit to try and wrap this up quickly since it all appears quiet. The area you’ve chosen is just about clear, or so you think. There’s the slightest whoosh in the air before you feel a blade nestle itself in your back.
“Fuck!” You scream as you stagger in pain and surprise. Just barely you can hear Bucky’s voice call out in the com as a foot crashes into your jaw.
It takes you a second but you get your bearings and land a blow to the asset’s abdomen. “I’m good!” No need for anyone to run to your aid when you don’t need it.
You focus a thin sliver of energy in your right hand and shoot it toward them like a tiny spear. They dodge and for a moment you think nothing of it, spinning despite the throbbing in your back from the knife wound, determined to take them out. A groan rings both in your com and from behind you followed by a thud.
Somehow you know before you even turn who’s going to be on the ground. You feel yourself somehow grow cold while also pulsing with energy, dread and rage and heartbreak crashing into you all at once. The asset forgotten, you rush to Bucky’s crumpled form on the floor.
“What the hell?!” His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grinding in pain as he grasps the wound in his side, red sliding over his fingers.
“Heard you,” he grunts through clenched teeth. You can’t even feel the knife in your back at the moment.
“I said I was good!” You force his hands away and he groans. It’s bad, not as bad as it could be but still…
“Behind-” He doesn’t finish his statement. The asset grabs the knife and twists.
You scream, pain surging for an instant before it’s replaced with something else entirely. Thick cords of energy curl around you, pulsing in time with your suddenly steady heartbeat. There’s nothing in your mind for this moment, not even Bucky. One goal. Eliminate the target.
Pulling away the knife rips out of your back. It should feel like something. It’s just a tingle. Whirling you grab the asset by the neck. You could make this much faster than you do but… Pinning them against the wall you let your power trail down their body from your hold on their neck. They make a noise somewhere between a scream and a gurgle as superheated energy burns its way through them. It only takes a minute.
Once their eyes go dark you hurl them to the side. The sound of bones cracking. It’s then you come back to yourself, the monster sated. Bucky.
“Bucky is down. West sector cleared, I’m taking him up.”
“No, I-”
“Shut up,” you growl as you lift him.
Sam is stitching up Bucky when Nat and Steve declare the facility cleared. Nothing of value gained. They know you’re all looking for them, that’s clear enough by how quickly they abandoned this place.
The ride back is quiet. Sam takes care of the wound on your back and you can’t take your eyes off Bucky’s side. You could have killed him. If you had…
As soon as the door opens you’re bolting out. You think you’re going to run to your apartment but instead, you go to the range. Even so, all you manage to do is pace in the space anxiety thrumming through you, yet you’re unable to bring yourself to let loose the energy that almost killed him…
Before your brain knows what’s happening you’re riding the elevator up to not your apartment but Bucky’s. You know he’s in medical but he’s not hurt badly enough to stay there more than an hour or so. Pacing the hall, you wait.
The elevator doors slide open when you’re at the end of the corridor. Two voices, Steve’s and Bucky’s. You freeze.
“I’m good, promise,” you hear Bucky say.
“Alright. Call me if you need anything.” The doors slide closed and Steve is gone.
He hasn’t even opened his door before you’re on him. A small surprised noise comes from him as you turn him to face you. Logically you know he’s injured, need to be careful, but…
Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him to you. His kiss tastes like sweat and desperation. Tears burn your eyes as his tongue finds its way between your teeth, his arms winding around you, holding tight.
Suddenly you pull away, pushing against his chest. You punch him hard in his left pec. “You fucking idiot!” Your voice cracks.
“Yeah. I am.” A sardonic smile curls his lips. “Just for you though.”
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Lava
From this request: could you do a one shot with dean and he gets jealous a lot bc during a case a lot of people hit on the reader and the reader doesn’t notice it bc they are basically in love with dean and in the end he confesses his feelings and just a lot of fluff and adorableness
*Dean-centric
______________________________________________________________
“Uh-oh,” Sam said, sitting beside his brother. “Someone’s got stink-face on. What’s up?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dude, you give new meaning to ‘if looks could kill’.” Sam followed Dean’s gaze. “Why is the bartender the victim?”
“Because he willingly served Y/N a drink.”
“That’s… kind of his job, Dean.”
“If she orders the drink, yes, it’s his job. But if some other sleazeball orders it for her, that’s when the line gets crossed.”
Sam nodded. “Ah. Right. Of course.”
“What?”
“You’re jealous.”
“No, I’m not. Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you like Y/N.”
“No, I don’t.”
“So… you’re not going to go beat the crap out of that guy who’s talking to Y/N over by the jukebox?”
Dean’s attention moved from the bartender to the darkened corner where you stood by the jukebox. A large man was standing next to you, one arm draped over the top of the jukebox, leaning in close to you. “Of course I’m not going to beat the crap out of him.” Dean stood. “But I am going to go get Y/N away from him.”
______________________________________________________________
“Well, well, well,” Dean said, sauntering up next to you. “What’s going on over here?”
“Oh, I’m just having a polite argument with this gentleman,” you said with a smile, taking a sip of the drink from the guy at the bar. “He doesn’t think Foreigner is a good band.”
“Oof, all right buddy, I’m gonna save you an hour of your time. Once she gets started on Foreigner, she doesn’t stop until she runs out of breath.” Dean took your elbow in his hand and pulled you away.
“Dean, come on, I’m not that bad. And someone has to stick up for Foreigner.”
“They’re good, but they’re not–”
“Do we need to do karaoke again? Or should I say, do I need to kick your ass at karaoke again in order to prove that Foreigner is versatile and life-long and ever-lasting and–”
“Those two things are the same, Y/N. Now, it’s time to stop talking.”
You shrugged and took another drink.
“Stop drinking that. Could be roofied.”
“Why would it be roofied?”
“Because three-fourths of the still sober people in this bar have been vying for your attention all night?”
“Nuh-uh.”
______________________________________________________________
Back at the bunker, Sam poked his head into Dean’s room. “So… how much longer am I going to have to watch you suffer?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on. You’ve been sulking ever since the bar. You like Y/N and you need to tell her so she stops flirting with everyone else.”
“That’s the problem, Sam! She doesn’t realize that anyone is flirting with her! She just thinks they’re being nice.”
Sam scoffed. “Yeah, right. She has to know–”
Dean shook his head.
“Well… maybe that’s all the more reason for you to tell her. If she knows you like her and the two of you get together, she won’t even pay attention to the ‘nice’ guys…”
“Uh-huh. And what’s your bright idea for that, hm?”
“Valentine’s Day is coming up…”
“No. No. No way in Hell, Sam. Valentine’s Day is the worst time to announce your feelings. Everything is blown out of proportion and… and… and Y/N would hate it….”
“Don’t go over the top. But get her a box of chocolates or some flowers or something. Take her to dinner. Tell her how you feel. And then you’ll fall in love and get married and–”
“Easy, Romeo. Take it down a few notches.”
______________________________________________________________
On Valentine’s Day, you walked into the kitchen to find Dean making pancakes.
“Those better be chocolate chip,” you said, sitting at the table.
“They are,” Dean said, sliding a plate in front of you.
A single pancake sat on the plate.
A single heart-shaped pancake.
“What’s this?”
“Well, it’s Valentine’s Day…”
“Seriously?”
“No,” Dean said, sliding a plate full of round pancakes to you. “I just wanted to see your face.”
“Asshole,” you said with a smile.
“You know the only festive thing I do this time of year is raid the shelves of discounted candy on the fifteenth.”
“We’re still doing that, right?”
“You bet your ass we are.”
You took a bite of pancake. “And people say the fourteenth is the day of love.”
“But nothing says ‘love’ like eighty-percent-off a box of chocolates.”
______________________________________________________________
The next day, you and Dean slid into the Impala and headed off to the first store on your list. It was early, so the parking lot was nearly empty.
You grabbed a cart and followed Dean to the large candy display at the back of the store. The two of you began tossing bags and boxes into the cart with abandon, giggling like… well, like two kids in a candy store.
Dean tapped your shoulder and handed you a large, heart-shaped box. On the top of it was a picture of two olives with the words ‘Olive You’ above them.
“Cute,” you said.
“It’s…” Dean shifted. He suddenly didn’t want to admit what he’d practiced in the car.
You studied him for a moment before turning and searching the shelf. After a few moments, you turned and handed him a heart-shaped box.
Dean looked at the picture of the volcano. “‘I lava you’,” he read.
“Nothing says ‘love’ like a super cheesy discounted box of chocolates,” you said with a smile. “Or should I say, ‘lava’.”
Dean returned your smile. “I lava you, too.”
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