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kaleldobrev · 10 months

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Old Man

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary: Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: Age Gap, Cursing (13x), Sexual Innuendos, Dean talking bad about himself, Frat guys giving Y/N the disrespect she doesn’t deserve Authors Note: Me and Jensen have a 17-year age gap – what’s your age gap? | This came out A LOT longer than I expected | I don’t know how to write frat guys xD | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You and Dean pulled up in front of a gas station; needing to stop for gas and maybe a few snacks before the two of you continued your almost four-hour long journey back to the Bunker. You and Dean had just spent the weekend in Lawrence, due to the very rare occurrence that there were no cases. You had told Dean that even though you’d been living at the Bunker with him and Sam for the past couple of years, you had never once been to Lawrence even though you could have easily made a day trip out of it. With that being said, Dean was more than happy to take you and show you around, reminiscing about some of the things that he remembered doing all those years ago back when he was four; back before everything. But that’s not all the trip was, you had done some other things too; like visiting the Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum – which was considered to be one of the best museums in the entire state of Kansas, along with Grinter Farms – who prided themselves on their sunflower photo-ops. You enjoyed both places immensely, and were happy that Dean did too, even if he wasn’t initially keen on going to either place at first.

“I’m gonna grab us some snacks while you do the pump.” You said, grabbing your wallet from the glove compartment. Once you closed it and before you exited the car, you looked over at Dean, who was currently giving you the most serious look on his face. “What?”

“You already know what I’m going to say Sweetheart.” His tone sounding just as serious as his facial expression had looked.

“Pie.” You said in unison.

“Cherry or apple?” You asked, the two of you getting out of the car at the same time.

“Like you have to ask.” Dean stated, opening up the fuel cap.

“Just making sure Dean. I mean, I don’t want to come out with apple when you really wanted cherry.” Your comment earned a slight chuckle from him.

“I’ll be getting some cherry pie later, don’t you worry.” He winked.

“I don’t think that applies to me anymore.” You smirked.

“We can always pretend.” He started fueling Baby just then.

“Now that’s a roleplay idea I can get behind.” You winked at him before making your way into the store.

As soon as you walked into the store to grab some snacks for the two of you – one of which needed to be pie; a car pulled up the next pump over with a group of about four men who all appeared to be from the University of Kansas solely based on their Jayhawks apparel. “I don’t know dude. I’m pretty sure that chick was into me.” One of the men said, causing the one that he was talking to, to roll his eyes.

“No dude. She was into me. She was giving me the old fuck me eyes. Did you not see that? Or were you too busy looking at her ass?” He laughed. It was the other guy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Can you blame me? You could bounce a quarter off that thing.” The young man replied.

“Hell yeah you could!” The other one agreed, giving each other a high five.

There was a part of Dean that found their conversation funny because he had remembered when he was like that; but it hadn’t been for some time. Yes, there were times when he was still like that, but it was solely reserved for one woman: and that woman was you.

“Check out that piece of ass in the store there.” Another one of the men who hadn’t talked before was talking now. His comment caused Dean to turn in their direction and then back into the store. There was no other person that they could be talking about but you, as you were the only person in there besides the clerk behind the counter; and Dean was pretty sure they weren’t talking about the balding clerk.

“Bet she’s a good fuck.” One of the men said. Oh you have no idea. Dean thought to himself.

“I’ll bet you thirty bucks that I can convince her to have sex with me.” The first guy said, the one that had noticed you in the first place.

“Dude, there’s no fucking way she’d have sex with you.” The next guy said. “Look at her! She’s way out of your league. Plus, even if you could pull her, where are the two of you gonna do it uh? The dirty gas station bathroom?”

“Sure why not? I bet she wouldn’t mind it at all.” He winked. His comment caused Dean to chuckle a little to himself, knowing how wrong that guy was. You and Dean have had sex in a variety of different places, but never a gas station bathroom. “Dean, as much as I love you, I’m not fucking in a gas station bathroom. That’s honestly my only limitation.” You once told him. “So, Waffle House bathroom is okay then?” He joked back, causing you to give him a playful smack on the arm from his remark.

“Dude, she’s not gonna give you the time of day. She needs a real man. And that ain’t you.” The man started walking around to the other side of the pump and started making his way toward the store. You ain’t a real man dude. Dean thought to himself. None of them were what he would call a man, only boys pretending to be.

“Watch and learn boys!” The guy said using his most charismatic voice. Dean wasn’t worried at all; he knew that you would never give the guy the time of day. You two had been together for the last couple of years, and the group of quote on quote men weren’t remotely your type in the slightest. Dean had seen pictures of your previous exes or have worked cases with them before. All your previous exes besides about one were all hunters; not varsity jock looking guys, and that’s what those guys were.

“Hey kid, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean finally chimed in. At first, he wasn’t even going to say anything. He had almost wanted to see the boy come back out the store with the look of utter embarrassment on his face when you had rejected him; which he knew was going to happen. But the jealous side of him won in that moment. He knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself – you were one of the best hunters he’d ever seen or worked with. He’d seen you get hit on plenty of times either when you two went to the bar together or while working a case; but those men never seemed like threats to him. But this time, this time felt different for him.

“I’m sorry?” The guy questioned.

“I said, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean said, his voice a bit more stern than usual.

“What’s it to you?” The guy asked, giving a slight snort.

“She’s going to reject you buddy. Trust me.” Dean finished filling the car up and put the pump back in its place. “Just trying to save you the embarrassment in front of your buddies here.”

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?” The guy turned to look at you. You were currently standing at the counter laughing, probably at something the clerk had just said with two apple pie containers in your hands. Although Dean couldn’t hear your laugh, the sound of it echoed in his brain. God, he loved the sound of your laugh.

“That piece of ass” Dean began to say, hating using the words that they had used to describe you, “is my girlfriend.” Dean smirked. He had hoped that his usual tactic would work like it had done in the past. In the past, whenever Dean was with a woman; regardless if she was his girlfriend or not, the minute he said the word girlfriend to another guy that was hitting on his girlfriend, date, etc. the guy would usually back off, not wanting to get into any trouble. But his usual tactic didn’t work, it had simply just made the guy laugh.

“Your girlfriend?” The man laughed again. “Yeah, okay Old Man.”

“Old, Old Man?” Dean was caught off guard. No one had ever really called him an old man before; the only one who ever did it was Claire, but she was the exception, because she was basically family to him.

“Yeah. What are you? Like 50?” The guy behind him chimed in.

Dean turned around. “50? You think I’m 50? I’m 42 dude.” Yet more laughter from the men.

“Close enough.” The man that was close to the store said. At that moment Dean had saw you wave goodbye to the clerk and started to head out toward the door. The man looked at you, and then eyed his buddies, making his way toward Dean. “Listen, tell her that if she wants someone that can keep it up without the use of meds and doesn’t go to bed before 6, to give me a call.” The guy said, giving Dean’s shoulder a slight pat before going into the car with his other three buddies.

Dean started to take out his gun just as the guy in the driver’s seat started the engine. Before he could fully take out his gun you were standing next to him, two boxes of pie in your hands and a slight look of worry on your face. “Can I shoot them?” He asked you.

“Not in public.” You responded, handing him one of the boxes. “What did they say to you?” You were curious, and you had every right to be. Even though you were accustomed to Dean pulling out his gun, you were confused as to why he had wanted to pull it out in that moment, especially since you were pretty sure that the men in the car weren’t any kind of monsters.

“Nothing.” Dean was quick to respond, but his response sounded angry, almost hurt.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Especially since you asked if you could shoot them.” Dean handed you back the box of pie that you had just given him, causing you to give him an even more worried look.

“Can we just leave?” His voice was panicked now, maybe with a small hint of embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Was all you said as the two of you got into Baby.

There was a strong silence between the two of you, and it wasn’t the comfortable kind like you were used to. That was one of the things that you had loved most about Dean; that you and him didn’t constantly need to fill the silence with talking. It was something that you enjoyed because your past boyfriends always needed to have some kind of conversation going because they hated the silence. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Always.” You turned your attention to Dean.

“Am I…Am I old?” He asked. His eyes flicked in your direction and then back onto the road.

“Old?” You asked, not sure if you had heard him right. Him asking if he was old was something that had caught you off guard.

“Yeah. Am I old?” He repeated again.

“Did those guys back there say you were old Dean?” This conversation topic was something that Dean would have never brought up, not unless someone had specifically said something to him. The last time he had this conversation with you was because Claire had jokingly called him an Old Man.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Dean stated. You were positive that’s what it was.

“No. You’re not old Dean. I don’t even know why you would think that.” You knew why he would think that; you were pretty sure that the men back at the gas station had said something to him about it. But you didn’t know why they would have said something to him.

“Those guys back at the gas station called me…Old Man.” His voice sounded slightly defeated, like he was embarrassed even though he had no reason to be. “I caught those assholes looking at you, making comments.” He turned to face you for a slight moment before looking back at the road, his knuckles started to turn white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “They were trying to make a bet about who would be able to pick you up. When I confronted them about it, telling them that you were my girlfriend, that’s when they laughed and called me an old man.”

“Dean –” You began to say, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“Sweetheart, I know you could have handled that yourself. You have a black belt in three different martial arts and you don’t take any kind of shit from anyone. Hell, a part of me had wanted to see you embarrass the guy because I know for a fact that he isn’t your type but…he was your age.” He was your age.

“Well, you’re not old. It’s not like you’re 90 Dean. You’re 42. That’s still young.” You stated, putting your hand on his thigh, a small gesture that you knew he loved. You had hoped that your comment would make him feel slightly better.

“I’m not young Sweetheart, you are. I got like 15 years on you.” His response made your face drop.

“That’s never been a problem for you before. I mean, it’s not like I’m 17 Dean, I’m three years shy of 30.” When you first met Dean, it was roughly five years ago when you were 22 and he was 37. Initially when you had first met him, you had figured that the two of you would be nothing more than just friends due to the semi-massive age difference that there was between the two of you, despite the fact that you did find him attractive. For the first couple of years that you knew him, you didn’t try to pursue anything; and neither did he, although the two of you had similar feelings. Dean had figured that you wouldn’t want to be with someone his age, and you thought that he didn’t want to be with someone your age. It wasn’t until Cas said something and both of you almost dying on a hunt that caused you two to realize that maybe you should give it a shot – and you’ve been together ever since.

“Exactly. You’re three years shy of 30. I’m far, far past that. You know what I was doing at 30? Trying to stop the Apocalypse. When I was 30, you were still in high school. You weren’t even on my radar back then.”

“Would have been pretty good jailbait though.” You joked.

“Not funny.” He responded.

“I’m not laughing.” You said back.

“Can I ask you another question?” His knuckles were still white against the steering wheel.

“Of course.” What else could you possibly say?

“Why me? Why out of all the guys you could possibly be with, that are your own age, that you actively choose to be with me? I mean, I know I drink too much, I have way, way too many screws loose, I’ve been to Hell, Purgatory, been possessed more times than I can count, I have major trust issues, PTSD.” He looked over at you again. “The list goes on and on. I’m all kinds of fucked up Sweetheart.” Your heart sank at Dean’s comments. You hated more than anything when he talked bad about himself, because there was no reason for him to do that.

“Pull over.” Was all you said.

Dean looked at you with a confused expression. “What?”

“Did I stutter? I said pull over.” Your voice was stern now, but it made Dean pull over on the side of the road.

“Dean, the fact that you even have to ask me why I’m with you shows me that you don’t actually realize or understand the reasons why I love you. You’re right, I could be with someone my own age. But you know what? I don’t want to. I’ve dated people my age, and they honestly suck. Hunters or not, men my age or even a year or two older have no fucking clue what they want in life. The only thing they’re positive about is wanting to fuck anything that has a pulse and gaslight women.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “My parents used to tell me, ‘not all men,’ and I knew that. You may have a slight case of alcoholism –”

“A slight case?” Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow. He thought you saying that he only had a slight case of alcoholism was a tad too generous.

You pointed a finger at him. “Don’t interrupt me.” Dean put up his hands in defeat. “As I was saying. You may have a slight case of alcoholism, are insanely prone to nightmares, get angry more often than you probably should, enjoy murder every now and then, have been to Hell and Purgatory and back, but wanna know something? I’ll take all of that, gladly! Because you are honestly the best man I could ever ask for. Yes, you have some flaws, but who doesn’t? I mean look at me for example.” You went into your jacket and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m someone who brings a hunting knife wherever they go like it’s a security blanket. No normal person does that Dean.”

“As you should. You need to be prepared at a moments notice.” He agreed.

“Exactly! No sane person would agree with me.” You said, putting back your hunting knife.

“Y/N, are you saying that part of the reason you’re with me is because I’m not sane?” He raised an eyebrow. He’s been called crazy or insane more times than he could count, so this wasn’t particularly newsworthy for him.

“I was thinking more…cautious.” You shrugged. “I mean…No, cautious isn’t the right word. You are cautious but…” You were really trying to come up with the right word to tell Dean, and you could feel it on the tip of your tongue. “What I’m trying to say is, any other guy would be freaked the fuck out if they saw me walking around with a hunting knife in my jacket. You? You couldn’t give two fucks. And you wanna know something else? I’ve worked with a lot of hunters over the years before I met up with you and Sam, who just looked at me and laughed because of my age, thinking that I don’t know the difference between rock salt and holy water.” You took one of his hands in yours intertwining your fingers. “You, not including Sam of course, accepted me as someone that actually knows a thing or two about hunting despite my age. You treated me like your equal. Hunter or not.”

You treated me like your equal. Your words rang in Dean’s mind. “Of course I treat you like my equal Sweetheart. What man wouldn’t? ‘Sides those other hunters and the Jayhawks spirit squad back there.” He chuckled, and you let out a small laugh too.

“Exactly. You’re a feminist icon.” You smiled.

“A feminist icon uh? Who knew?” Dean finally smiled.

“In all seriousness, I could give a rat’s ass about your age. You treat me right and my parents love you. What else could I possibly ask for?” You gave his hand a slight squeeze as you shot him another smile, but a softer one this time.

“Still amazed that your parents love me.” He said, starting to lean in closer to you.

“You treat their daughter right. That’s all they care about.” You confessed. When you had first told your parents about Dean, one of the first things they asked is if he was treating you right, they never asked about his age. And when they had met him, they still never commented on that fact, even when he wasn’t in the room.

He caressed your face. “I really am lucky to have you.” He smiled and leaned in fully to kiss you. “I love you so much.”

You smiled. “I love you more.”

He let out a slight chuckle. “Show off.”

“Always.” You responded, leaning in to kiss him again.

#dean Winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader

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rendevousz · 3 years

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the favourite

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: you are the baby avenger and everyone is platonically whipped for you.

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: none, maybe just my inability to write good endings

word count: 3497

note: um second oneshot hope this one's good gaaah

"hey, doll. whatcha' reading?" you glanced up to see bucky, who then plopped down next to you on the couch in the common room. "it's called 'shadow and bone'. it's a novel that's turning into a netflix series in like a month," you smiled at the super soldier, lifting up your book a little to show him the cover. his eyebrows raised at the information, lips tugging into a knowing smirk.

"yes, bucky, i'll watch the series with you." you rolled your eyes playfully at him. ever since he officially became an avenger and moved into the tower with the rest of you, you've been helping him 'get with the times' —as sam likes to call it— just as you did steve a few years prior.

steve had told his best friend that you were the best at stuff like this. after all, you were the youngest avenger. and you had a lot of free time on your hands; having no school since you were pretty much the only one besides vision who could compete with tony's or bruce's intelligence.

so really, school wasn't mandatory for you according to tony. at least, after you had asked him if you could just not attend and he cracked ten seconds after you pulled the puppy dog eyes.

you also had significantly less trainings than the rest of the team. this one wasn't because you were an expert on the field or something —well, you were, but so were the rest of the team but they still had almost daily trainings while you had half the amount they did— this was because you had cap wrapped around your tiny little finger.

and as for the team, they couldn't even be mad about it because if they were in the captain's position, they would probably be the same. everyone just loved you too much.

"do you mind if i turned on the tv?" bucky asked, afraid that you wouldn't want background noise while you were reading but obviously you didn't mind so you shook your head as you continued to read. not long after, you closed your book with a bookmark between the pages you stopped at before shoving in into bucky's hands and running up into your room to quickly grab your blanket.

he watched you run out of the common room in confusion before chuckling when he saw you run back in looking tiny with a huge, fluffy blanket in your arms. you went back to your spot on the couch next to him, spreading the blanket over both your laps, bucky smiling fondly as he watched you fix it before turning to him. "comfy?" you asked and he nodded, giving you back your book as you cuddled up to him. he smiled down at you and wrapped an arm around you while you leaned against his chest.

"what's this? movie night without me?" you two looked up at the owner of the voice and saw sam walking in, making his way to the kitchen, probably to make himself some coffee. "what movie are you guys watching?" he asked, leaning against a pillar to look at the tv, trying to figure out what movie was playing.

"actually, only bucky's watching the movie—it's mean girls, by the way—and i'm just reading my book." you told sam without looking at him, lifting your book up high to show him before lowering it back down to continue reading it.

"barnes, what are you doing watching a movie while y/n is reading? she won't be able to focus with all that background noise, shut it off." sam told him off, now back in the kitchen to make his coffee. you shook your head at the man's antics. "sam, it's fine. i told him it was okay,"

"of course you did, you're too sweet to say no to anyone." he quipped back, now standing nearby, watching the tv too, seemingly interested in the movie playing. you only rolled your eyes playfully at him before going back to the book. after a few minutes of him just standing, bucky spoke up. "just sit down if you want to watch the whole movie, birdbrain."

and sit he did. on your other side, snuggling comfortably under your blanket after putting his now empty mug on the coffee table. this caused bucky to huff as he pulled the other end of the blanket which led to them having a tug-of-war over the blanket, you unfortunately stuck in the middle of it. deciding that it was too distracting to read while squished between two grown men who were also fighting for the blanket, you finally closed your book.

"sam, can you help me put this on the coffee table?" you handed sam your book and he immediately took it, stretching his body forward to place it on the coffee table. with the book out of the way, you could finally settle comfortably and the blanket was now shared between the three of you equally. not long after, your head was back against bucky's chest with his arm around you while your legs were over sam's lap under the blanket, one of his arms resting over it above the blanket. if it had been someone else doing that to sam, they probably would've had their legs chopped off already.

"movie night and you didn't invite me?" you chuckled at the question by the newcomer, tony, finding it funny how sam said almost the exact same prior to him. "you're welcome to join us, tony." you offered kindly, to which he replied with a small chuckle.

"i'm just kidding, cupcake. i came up for a drink and a little snack but that's it, i have stuff to finish down in the lab." you nodded understandingly, turning back to the screen in front of you.

"hey, stark, while you're there can you grab me a bottled water from the fridge?" bucky asked him. "oh yeah can you grab me chips from the snacks cabinet too?" sam added.

"you guys have legs for a reason, get them yourselves, i'm not your maid," tony sassed and you bit back a chuckle. bucky and sam then decided to rock-paper-scissors the situation to decide who had to get up and get the water and chips. bucky ended up losing and he begrudgingly got up and came back quickly with his water and sam's chips.

shortly afterwards, tony approached the three of you on the couch, with a juice box and a small bag of pretzels; your go-to movie snack. "here you go, cupcake." he handed them to you and you accepted them happily, beaming at him while he ruffled your hair.

bucky and sam shared a look of disbelief at tony's actions. "what gives, man? we asked for stuff and you didn't want to do it but y/n gets her stuff without even having to ask for it?" sam complained.

"that's because y/n's my baby. now shut up and let her watch the movie in peace." he scolds before leaving the common room, leaving the two men to huff in annoyance. it soon washed off though when you laughed out loud at a scene and they returned back to normal, loving the sound of your contagious laughter.

when the movie ended, it was already late and you had fallen asleep on an also asleep bucky. sam took a look at you and chuckled. he slowly removed the blanket from over himself and you, gently scooping you up into his arms and taking you back into your room, laying you down on your bed. he noticed the lack of blanket on your bed and remembered the blanket you brought down to the common room. he opened your closet for a spare blanket, retrieving it before covering you with it, tucking you in. "night, kiddo." he whispered, kissing your forehead before leaving the room.

next morning came and you groggily stretched, noticing that you were in your room. last you remembered was falling asleep mid movie. you deduced that it was most likely either bucky or sam who carried you back to bed. you went to your closet to grab work out clothes since you had training today, before realising what day today was. wanda's breakfast day. you quickly ran to the bathroom and got ready.

once you were done, you dried your hair and left your room, practically bouncing with excitement when you thought of what wanda probably made for breakfast. the week had been a bad breakfast week since everyone who had so far been tasked breakfast duty, sucked at cooking. the only good cook of the team was wanda, explaining your overexcitement.

before you could get far though, you slammed into a solid body, being caught by your wrists before you could fall. "be careful, lady y/n!" a deep voice spoke and you look up, a large smile on your face before you jumped happily, taking the man into a big hug. "thor! you're back!"

he laughed, returning the hug, you almost disappearing due to his big frame before you let go of each other. "where were you headed to so eagerly?"

"it's wanda's breakfast day, thor! i haven't had a decent breakfast all week because no one in this tower except wanda can cook to save their lives. come on, big guy!" you cheered, trying to get onto his back for him to give you a piggy back to the kitchen but he was too high for you to reach. he watched your attempt in amusement before bending down so you could get on his back. you gratefully got on, lightly patting his back and dramatically pointing ahead of you. "to the kitchen we go!"

when you two arrived in the kitchen, clint and wanda were talking as the latter made breakfast. thor's booming laughter echoed through the room as he zoomed with you on his back, laughing your heart out. "we have arrived to our destination, my lady." clint and wanda turned to you, adoring smiles on their faces when they heard you giggling uncontrollably.

"i thought you had more important things to do that you couldn't even walk 10 feet to grab me a spoon." clint raised his eyebrows at the demigod. "yes but y/n needed a ride so i provided her one." thor gave your hair a ruffle before he left the room, going to do what he initially left the kitchen for before you managed to get him to bring you back there.

"morning, kiddo." clint ruffled your hair right after you just fixed it, causing you to glare at him before fixing it again. "morning," you grumbled, sitting down next to him.

"morning, y/n!" wanda greeted, placing your plate of perfectly made blueberry pancakes with extra blueberries neatly placed on top, butter in the middle of it with maple syrup dripping down. your mouth watered. had it really been that long since you had a good breakfast or was it just because it was wanda's creation? or was it both? "here ya go, bubs. your favourite," she grinned at you, placing your glass of orange juice beside the plate.

"thanks, wands! i love you!" you thanked her, already beginning to dig into your breakfast.

"what the heck? you gave me burnt pancakes and didn't let me have extra blueberries because you said there already were some in the pancakes," clint whined to wanda from beside you, watching you eat happily.

"that's because the extra blueberries were for y/n, she loves them. and about the burnt pancakes...yea i just didn't want to give her burnt ones. look how happy she looks," the two turned to you, looking at your cheeks being filled up, making you look like an adorable squirrel.

"okay, fair point." clint slumped down on his chair, continuing to look at you fondly, like a proud father.

after breakfast, you made your way down to the training room where steve, nat and peter were training. when you entered, peter immediately noticed, waving and you from the treadmill with a huge smile on his face. nat, having just flipped steve over her her shoulders, smiled at you. "hey, bub." you smiled back at her and steve who struggled to give you a wave but did it anyways from his position.

"alright, y/n, you can warm up and run 2 miles first before we start." steve says once he had gotten up from his position on the ground. you mocked a salute before walking to the treadmills.

"what?! how is that fair? i'm running 5 miles!" peter exclaimed from beside you just as you started your run. "you're enhanced, peter. if anything, it's unfair for y/n/n. actually, that's right, it is unfair for her. y/n/n, you can go ahead and just do a mile."

peter's jaw dropped at this, his mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. "b–but.."

"get back to work, peter. once you're done, we'll start both your and y/n's training." the boy only huffed in annoyance, focusing back on his run while you smirked, internally cheering in victory.

"boy, that was tiring!" you dramatically plopped back onto the mat, limbs spread out as you tried to catch your breath. it had been a gruesome 3 hours of training and you were beat.

"y/n/n, get up. sam, bucky and clint's gotta train soon," nat tells you after steve and peter left and you were still sprawled out on the ground. "but i'm tired!" you whined childishly.

"y/n, if you don't get up, i'm gonna leave you here to be trampled on by the boys when they train." nat nagged, hands on her hips as she made a disapproving face at you.

"no you're not. you're gonna carry me to my room so i can shower and sleep soon." you tell her, eyes already closed as the fatigue washed over you. after a few seconds of silence, you heard her sigh out loud before you felt her crouching down beside you.

"get on my back in five seconds or i'll leave you." she threatened. you quickly opened your eyes, grabbing your small towel and water bottle before getting on nat's back. she mumbled something about you being lucky that she loves you or else she really was going to let sam, bucky and clint trample on you.

"what's wrong with her?" you could hear steve's concerned voice asking nat when you two reached—you assumed— the lobby. you were too tired to keep your eyes open so you left them closed while your arms were around nat's neck.

"nothing," you heard nat reply as she walked you both into the elevator. "kid's just too lazy to get up and walk on her own so she made me carry her." you internally rolled your eyes. she made it seem like she was forced to do it when everyone clearly knew she would do anything when it came to you.

you heard steve chuckle before nat started walking again, probably towards your room. you heard the door open and nat finally let you down, prompting you to open your eyes.

"do you want some food after you shower?" she questioned as you looked through your closet for comfy clothes to change to before ultimately deciding on cow print pyjama pants and an oversized tee you stole from steve.

"i'm good, nat, thanks. i just wanna take a nap." as if on cue, you yawned right after. "okay, bub. you'll have to get up later for dinner and movie night though, okay?" she reminded and left the room after you replied an 'okay' back.

when you were woken up a few hours later, it was by an annoying scream and a body bouncing on your bed. "y/n/n, wake up! it's dinner! mr stark ordered your favourite!"

you groaned, putting your pillow over your head to block out peter's annoying voice. "come on, y/n/n wake up! you haven't eaten since breakfast and it's movie night tonight!"

"okay, okay, i'm up. you can shut up now, pete." you grumbled crankily. it was quiet for a few seconds before peter yelled out once again. "wake u–"

he never got to finish though because you kicked him off the bed. "i said i'm up, dude." you then sat up, stretching before getting up to wash up, ignoring peter who was on the floor rubbing the side of his head which hit your lamp when he fell off your bed. he then got up, deciding to tidy your bed up a bit while he waited for you to finish washing up so that you two could go down together.

"is that my shirt?" was the first thing you heard when you walked in with peter. the team were all sitting, eating your food from your favourite place. "i uh, maybe?" you answered sheepishly, sitting down next to sam and peter settling down on your other side. "i've been looking for that shirt since forever."

"aw, let her have it, steve! she looks better in it than you do, she looks so adorable!" wanda screeched, absolutely adoring how tiny you looked in cap's enormous shirt. she continued to gush over you, even taking out her phone at one point to snap a picture of you. you chuckled at her antics, proceeding to eat your dinner while the team talked.

after dinner, everyone slowly made their way to the common room for team movie night. you guys collectively agreed to watch 'white chicks' after steve revealed that he hadn't watched it.

you sat down next to bruce, who gave you a tired smile when you smiled at him. he must've been working in the lab all day, you thought. halfway through the movie though, a bathroom break was called by tony. a few took the chance to get up and get snacks while you told bruce you were gonna sit closer to the tv since you couldn't hear properly with sam and bucky squabbling over every little thing they could. you could even hear them arguing in the kitchen at the moment over hot chocolate.

when tony came back, you told the two bickering children in the kitchen that you were starting the movie again. not long after you started, you could hear them still bickering, except now they were closer, probably back in their seats. poor bruce, you thought. you escaped the two but he was still stuck next to them.

meanwhile in the back, sam and bucky were still busy fighting over the hot chocolate. you paid them no mind as you focused on the movie, having not watched it in a hot minute.

"dude, i made this for myself! go make your own hot chocolate!" bucky whisper-yelled, moving his mug away from sam's reach when the latter tried to reach for it. "you took my snack now i'm gonna take your drink so it's fair!" sam countered.

before the two of them could stop it, the steaming hot chocolate spilt. not on the carpet, but onto the doctor whose patience had already been running thin with the two quarrelling next to him for the past hour.

his face slowly turned green, clearly a sign that he was fighting so that the other guy didn't come out. the team stared in horror, preparing for a fight to break out with the big green monster.

you, being the closest to the tv, didn't notice this all happening as you happily watched the movie that you couldn't hear properly for the past hour.

you laughed joyously when your favourite scene came on, trying to control your giggles that were starting to get louder and louder. bruce was currently hunched down, trying to even his breathing. but when he heard your laughter, he immediately looked up at you.

the team panicked, thinking that you could be a target for hulk since you just attracted attention to yourself. they were about to get up to protect you as they looked at bruce apprehensively, when the doctor smiled, the green on his neck slowly, but surely disappearing.

the team looked at each other in confusion and bruce smiled weakly at them. "sorry about that. i'm...i'm gonna move up and sit with y/n." he got up and made his way to you. you smiled when you saw him. "got tired of them too?" you joked and he nodded, making himself comfortable next to you.

you nodded and turned your attention back to the tv. it was clear you were oblivious to whatever just happened and the team couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. you really just unknowingly calmed down the hulk.

the team didn't know if you were aware of how much power you actually held over them. nevertheless, you were their little baby and they were willing to do anything for you.

#avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #bucky barnes x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader #peter parker x reader #thor odinson x teen!reader

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youre-deadangel · 3 years

Text

wide open|s.rogers

summary; steve rogers likes to keep certain things, wide open.

genre; smut

pairing; steve rogers x reader

warnings!; SMUT 18+, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talk, squirting, unprotected sex, caught in the act

author’s note; none.

word count; 1.1k words

You enjoyed being private person. Keeping to yourself, whether it was relationship wise or just personal matters. Your co-workers knew about your work life, your family knew about family life and friends, friends knew more dirty secrets but, they kept them tight.

Your best kept secret was Steve Rogers, Captain America himself.

You bet him at a bar and you two have been dating for a year.

Now you two are the best kept secret in Brooklyn. He likes keeping you close, you both live in the same building but, different floors. He’s lives on the top, with a beautiful view, you’re two below him on the opposite side of the hall.

The attendees of the apartment wouldn’t know that though. They have no clue Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. The at first they thought he was porn addict, he tried to keep girls from saying his name back then, after he met you they realized he must of been bringing girls home.

The frequent mantra of “Steve”, “Rogers”, “Captain”, “Cap”, “Sir”, and a list of other names. Today there was a new one as your legs laid wide open.

“God!”

Blonde hair bobs up and down as sounds of moans and slick fill the heated air.

Your back arches, a cry leaving your lips, and Steve keeps going. His tongue lapping at your cunt, fucking into you then sucking on your clit.

“Steven!” You cry, hands coming to pull at his hair. You had no clue where he learned to eat you out like this but, you weren’t complaining. The way it felt as if his tongue never left your cunt, always pressed against it.

His hands covering every area of your thighs, grunts and groans leaving him as if he derived more pleasure from eating you out than you did.

“Please, please, fuckin’.” You whine, writhing beneath him. Steve voice is muffled by your pussy, his tongue never stopping as he spells his name. His head pops up, lower half covered in slick and panting. “I said, stop moving.” He gives you a lopsided grin that melts your heart and makes your cunt throb.

The blonde looks down and stares in awe, watching as your hole contracts and releases, juices being forced out.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He dives back down, returning to eating your cunt and savoring the flavor.

You keep twisting in his grip and that forces him to slide his arms beneath your thighs and wrap his arms around so they’re placed on your stomach and he’s locking you in place.

He rides up on his knees, resting on his calves as he holds your lower half up.

Your cunt dripping down his face and onto the sheets below. “Please! It’s too much!” You cry, tears running down your face as you grip at the pillow beneath your head.

“So good,” He mumbles replacing his tongue with his fingers, devoting his mouth to sucking your clit and biting the insides of your already bruised thighs. “Squeezin’ ‘round my fingers.” He comments as you walls throb around him, somehow tightening more around him. “Fuck, babydoll.”

Your mouth falls open as he slowly slides in, heavy cock dragging along your soft walls. Steve wastes no time, quickly sliding out and thrusting back in.

Your pussy welcomes him with each thrust, your walls smothering his cock and your bouncing tits keeping his attention locked on your chest. You were a sight for sore eyes. Your expressions, your sounds and, your movements. You were intoxicating to him. His right hand comes down to wrap itself around your throat, cutting your air supply.

As a reflex, you reach up to hold his strong hand, seeming as if you wanted him to let go but, he knew you were safe. Your mouth kept dining sweet songs of his names mixed with chorus of moans. You were only his and he was only yours. Two lovers caught in an act of passion.

The prominent veins of his cock rub against your walls, hitting your G-spot every time.

“Fuck! Steve, there! Right there!” You shout, tossing your head back into the soft, cool pillows. He followed your orders, drilling his cock harder into your most pleasure spot and removing his hand from your neck to roll your clit between his fingers. Pinching and pulling making you squirm and whine. He was gonna break you, and you knew he would as you tumbled closer and closer to your impending orgasm.

His thrusts seem to increase in speed and force as he also neared his orgasm. Heavy balls smacking against your asshole, rough fingers rolling your sensitive clit and, thick cock splitting your cunt open and impaling your deepest spots.

“Baby-fuck! Babydoll, look at me. Look at me, baby.” Steves's voice reigns you back in, forcing you to stare into his deep blue eyes. “Good girl, come on baby. Be a good girl. Cum for me, ” He looks down, watching as your tight cunt grips his every time he pulls out.

“Cum on daddy’s dick. Soak my cock, babydoll.” He grunts as the coil in your stomach begins to unravel.

His words of encouragement and the pleasure in your pussy quickly threw you over the edge. You came hard, pussy spasming around Steve's cock as he continued to thrust into you before cumming as well. “Fuckin’ hell, babydoll.” He pumps ropes of cum into your cunt, filling you to the brim and some even pouring out.

You lay there, panting, attempting to calm down from your high.

Another night of passion ending with him.on top of you and his cum dripping out of you. You loved moments like these, he always seemed more vulnerable after sex. Like you could ask him.his deepest darkest secrets and he'd tell you that and more.

Soft kisses are placed on your neck and cheek. “So good for me, (Y/N).”

___

“Hey, Rogers.”

Steve looks up and over at Sam. “Didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Sam snickers, patting his back. “I-“ He turns to Sam. “How’d you know?” He questions. “Your neck, thought your body would heal then fast huh?” Steve panics and flips his collar up.

“Also, I was flying Redwing around and he caught an eyeful off the Rogers’ residence.” Steve turns a shade of red. “You saw nothin’.” He muttered, growing defensive. “Hey, hey, relax. I'm not gonna say anything. I just suggest you keep those blinds shut.” Sam snickers, beginning to walk away.

“Don't worry, Captain. Your secret is safe with me.”

#Chris Evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #Marvel Comics #marvel smut #marvel #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #smut #youre-deadangel writings #youre-deadangel

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queenbeean · 3 years

Text

for better or for worse / bucky barnes

author’s note: this is my first bucky fic so bear with me please; this is my entry for @celestialbarnes 4k writing challenge; i’m sorry this is short and bad

warnings: bad writing, angst, mentions of cheating, fluff and smut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

prompt #6 “i guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse”

taglist: @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Bucky has never walked faster in his life. The handle of the plain brown paper bag was almost burning him. He felt as if everybody walking down the street was either staring at him or at the bag. What’s worse, he felt like every person knew what was inside the bag. His heart was beating faster. You were going to kill him. Maybe worse, he feared you were going to freak out, feel violated and then dump him. But on the other hand, he promised you he’d do this. Well, only part of it.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Or he thought he did. When he felt three people turning their heads to him, he pulled his cap down and walked faster to your shared apartment. Once he closed the door, he finally allowed himself to breathe. Leaning over the door, he took his cap and ran his fingers to his now shorter and quite sweaty hair.

“Why are you all flushed? And what’s in the bag?” Before Bucky could register Sam’s voice, he drew his knife out and threw it at where he heard him. Sam was quick to react and moved his head in the nick of time.

“What the hell, Sam?” Bucky walked up to the wall where the knife was now stuck. That was going to be hard to explain to you. “How did you get in?”

“Did you also shop for lingerie back in the thirties?” Sam’s voice was overshadow by the sound of wrinkling tissue paper.

Bucky almost flew and ripped the bag from Sam’s hand, ripping the bag in the process and making the contents of the bag explode in every direction. “That’s none of your business. Now you need to go.” He said as he pushed his business partner out the door.

Before he could close it, Sam stopped him. “Listen, I wouldn’t have peeked if I knew those were going to be in there. It was payback from that time I got donuts for my nephews.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Say hi to Y/N for me.” Sam said as he walked to the elevator.

For the second time, Bucky leaned against the door. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to go shopping for underwear. But he had promised you to replace the thong he ripped from your body. The memory of your small moans against his neck as you two tried new things flooded his mind. The two of you have never tried quickies in forbidden places but he couldn’t bear the thought of not talking to each other anymore. Which was the other reason why he decided to buy you one or maybe four more lingerie sets. The very same sets that were now thrown everywhere.

As he picked them up, he could only imagine how you would look in them. That image and the memory of the last time you two made love made his pants considerably tighter but you wouldn’t be home for another six hours. Maybe he could wait for you. Prepare dinner and wrap his presents for you.

Who was he kidding? The smallest thought of you had him craving you hard. And since he couldn’t have you right now, he was left with one thing to do.

Six hours later, you closed the door behind you and dropped your stuff, your keys getting caught with your scarf that also fell. “Shit.” You whispered under your breath. As you bent down to pick them up, something from underneath the couch caught your attention. “What the hell?” Your finger was almost burning as the little piece of fabric hung from it. It was a pastel blue and lace and there wasn’t almost any fabric to it. What was worse, it wasn’t yours.

I swear to God, if he cheated on me...

The opening of the door, awoke Bucky from his nap. “Hi, doll.” His smile almost made you forget about the incriminatory thong. The anger in your eyes made him sober up and sit up. “Doll?”

“Don’t call me that, James. What the fuck is this?!” You threw the fabric to his face. As soon as he took it from his face, his eyes widened. “I guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse.”

“Doll? Doll, it’s not what it looks like!” He yelled after you and almost caught you but you shut the bathroom door on his face. The first wave of shock simmered down and the reality of the situation caught up to you. He didn’t deny it but the look on his face was an answer, right? What if he didn’t? But what if he did? Oh, God, you almost threw up at the thought...

You were snapped out of it when the door was opened — or rather ripped off its hinges quite easily. Curse his vibranium arm, you thought.

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No.” Bucky said as he came closer to you. “No, I didn’t. I would never.” His hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the few tears that came out. The look on your face broke his heart. He hates that he wasn’t careful enough with his present for you. And more importantly, that yesterday’s fight led to you not trusting him anymore.

“Whose thong is that then?” You sniffled.

Bucky smiled slightly at you. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen pantry where he kept your present for the time being. He rummaged through the contents of the gift bag and pulled out the exact same panties he ripped off you. “Remember yesterday when I promised I’d buy you another?” You nodded and felt embarrassment fill you. “I might have gotten carried away and bought some sets I think you might like but I can always return them if you don’t like them, well except for the blue one because the tag is ripped off. I’m going to make Sam pay me back if you don’t like that one-”

You cut him off by pulling him down to your height and kissing him. His beard was slightly scratching you but you didn’t care. He went through all the trouble and bought you stuff the both of you might enjoy. The thought of this hundred-year-old man going out and do something like that made you feel so stupid but so incredibly loved and special.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said as he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he led the two of you to the couch. “I can see how this could be misinterpreted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Well I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Bucky smirked as he laid back on the couch, leaving you straddling his hips. “If you want to of course.”

You placed a finger on his mouth. “How can I not want to when you are the sweetest old man? Wait, that didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped.”

Bucky chuckled, placing his hands underneath your shirt and rubbing circles on your hips. “Good thing I know what you mean... and that I don’t look my age.”You frowned and crossed your arms. “I’m kidding, doll.” His palms moved to your back and pulled you to him, your lips meeting his as soon as you were close enough.

“Bucky.” You moaned against his lips, his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. “Bucky, please.”

“What do you need, doll?”

“I need you...” You moaned again as his lips kissed underneath your jaw. “Make love to me please.”

“Gladly, doll.” His hands took the hem of your shirt and pulled it off you. Your hands were quick to unclasp your bra and throw it on the floor.

Both of your hands bumped into each other as you tried to unbutton each other’s jeans. “You do yours and I’ll do mine.” You stood up to take off yours along with your pants and he wriggled until he got them off, his boxers included. Once more, you straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him again.

“Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as he examined your face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Something poked me.”

Bucky chuckled. “I guess I’m a little excited.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t you.” You moved your hand in between your bodies and pulled out a... tag? “James Buchanan Barnes, did you spent seventy dollars on me? Wait, no, you got more stuff. How much did you spend on me?”

“It was my pleasure, doll. Just like it’s my pleasure to do this.” He repeated his actions from before and pulled you down but this time, his lips took one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing it and licking it as his vibranium arm played with the other bud, instantly erecting it with the cold metal.

“Bucky.” You moaned again as you bucked your hips against his, his hard cock rubbing your clit.

“Wrap your cunt around me, doll.” He said as he switched his lips to your other breast.

Blindly, you positioned yourself and slowly sank down onto him. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard at the delicious stretch but he didn’t complain. “Bucky, fuck! Bucky, Bucky!” You moaned out loud as you were filled completely by him.

“That’s it, doll. You feel so good, so tight, so warm.” Bucky never thought he’d be able to enjoy this level of pleasure and he never did until he met you.

You started off by moving your hips lazily, still feeling the stretch from his big cock. As the pleasure built, you sat up straight and placed your hands on his chest. You needed something to support yourself as Bucky decided you were ready to bounce on him. He gripped your hips and helped you move up and down, leaving you breathless.

“Y-you are s-so big, Bucky.” You breathed out as you tried to match the buck of his hips.

“And you are squeezing me too much, sweetheart. I’m close.” Bucky grunted out and took your hands in his.

You opened your eyes and looked at him as your bouncing slowed down. He looked beautiful underneath you, his eyes shut and always the gentleman, he held it in so you could come first. Not that he’d need time to recover, he was a super soldier after all but it was the thought that counted. But you wanted him to enjoy the ride so you started...

“Y/N, no.” Bucky said in between moans. “Doll...”

Your voice was breathless as you started spelling his name. “Just relax, Bucky and fill me up.” As soon as you said those words, he pinned your hands behind your back and brought you down to him.

With a short margin, he was able to drill into you for what felt like forever and even after you were squeezing him for all he was worth, he didn’t let up until the amount of Bucky coming out of your mouth decreased considerably and also when he felt your juices combined with his were running down both your legs.

With shaky legs, you tried and sat up. Your walls still throbbing around his cock. “Let’s stay like this for a bit and then we can take a bath.” Bucky suggested, voice still breathless.

“Okay.” You whispered as you rested your cheek on his chest. “By the way, how did you know what store to go to?”

“How could I not know, doll? I love you and I know what makes you happy.” Bucky felt how you tensed at his words. “What is it?”

“I still feel bad for not trusting you.”

Bucky brought his hand to brush your hair in comfort. “Don’t apologize, love. If it had been the other way around, I’d probably have thought the same.” He whispered and kissed the top of your head. “And I meant what I said yesterday, for better or for worse. Life will take weird turns but we are going to get through them together. It’s you and me.”

“Who would’ve thought Sergeant Barnes could be so soft?” You teased him but knew he meant it.

“Maybe you could model the lingerie for your Sergeant?”

“Way to ruin the moment, James.”

“You love me.”

“I do love you, Bucky. For better and for worse.”

#bucky barnes #mine #grown up talk #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Note

Can you please do like a sequel of Shut Up where Bucky and the reader team up against Sam????

Oops...

Warnings: fluff!!

Word Count: 1438

a/n: Sorry this took so long! It took me a while to think of a prank that wasn't too terribly mean...

Shut Up!

Masterlist

"Y/N." Bucky whined, his hands holding tightly to one of your own. "We have to do something to Sam!"

You laughed at his childlike behavior. Ever since your first date with Bucky, which went surprisingly well considering how nervous the both of you were, Bucky has been pestering you about teaming up against Sam.

Rather than responding, you pulled out your phone, quickly playing the video of Steve in his Captain America suit rattling on about patience.

"We need a plan first." You laid back on your bed, pulling Bucky along since he still held your hand.

"One: why do you have that video so readily available? Two: I have a plan." He smiled maniacally. "Turn him into a bird."

You scrunched up your face. "One: for moments like this, duh." You answered his first question.

I am definitely 100% in love with her. Bucky's thoughts ran wild.

"Two: I already made you a cat. You need to be more creative." You laughed at his pouty face.

How is he so perfect?

"Like what?" He bounced on the bed, fully embracing the childlike temper tantrum.

"I don't know. We could make Friday only call him Bird Brain for a day. Or make it so Redwing only responds to being called 'toy plane'." You thought about random prank ideas, trying to think of something that would bother him, but still be funny. Bucky looked at you fondly as you listed ideas.

How is she so perfect.

"I've got it." Bucky grinned smugly earning a raised eyebrow from you. "Can you make it so he can only say song lyrics?"

You thought to yourself for a minute before finally nodding.

"Embarrassing song lyrics?" He added, the mischief clear in his eyes.

"Now you're talking. What are you thinking? Early Jonas Brothers? High School Musical? Hannah Montana?" Your smile grew with each new artist you listed.

"Perfect. Now we just have to think of a way for him to eat something we give him."

Bucky was pacing, clearly deep in thought.

"Actually, I didn't need to make you eat that cookie. I could've just turned you into a cat with the flick of a wrist." You grinned at his wide eyes.

"What? Why then?"

"Because. It was more fun to see how paranoid you were about eating anything I gave you."

Bucky pouted, although he had to admit it made sense.

I am definitely in love with this man. You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts.

"C'mon. We've got to make a plan."

You worked your magic on Sam on a day when you knew everyone would be around the compound. He was minding his own business, trying to watch a movie when you and Bucky suddenly appeared.

"Hey, Sam. How you doing?" You asked with a fake air of innocence.

"I'm hot. You're cold. You go around, like you know-" He instantly burst into song, eyes widening. He threw his hands over his mouth, trying to prevent anything else from coming out.

You played it cool, but the twinkle in Bucky's eye easily gave away your prank.

"What's going on? This can't be happening. Don't tell me it's a song!" Sam switched songs, eyes narrowing. He continued singing, despite his clear protests.

"Oh, it's a song." You grinned, leaning into Bucky who wrapped an arm around you.

I love her so much.

Sam shook his head in response, leaving the common area. He figured it would only last a few hours, so all he had to do was avoid people talking to him.

What he didn't account for was Tony's "impromptu" team building night. In reality, you suggested to Tony that maybe the team needed more time together not fighting anyone, and he ran with the idea.

"Alright party people! What should we play first?" Tony gestured to the massive table filled with various board games.

"I've always loved clue!" You grinned, knowing what would come next.

"Clue it is! Who does everyone want to be?" Tony questioned, laying out the various pieces.

"Who will I be? It's up to me. All the never ending possibilities, that I can see." Sam immediately burst into song, surprising most everyone around the table.

"Oh, I wouldn't say never ending, Sam. I think there's only six!" You patted him on the shoulder, a wide smile on your face.

"What did you do?" Steve asked, eyes narrowing in on you and Bucky.

"Oh, don't worry Cap. It'll only last another..." You glanced at the clock, "four hours." Bucky hid his face in your neck to prevent himself from laughing too obnoxiously.

I love him so much.

"Games and a show. I like it." Nat winked at you, always a fan of your pranks since none were ever directed at her.

"What was he even singing?" Clint stared at you, again unprepared for Sam to answer in song.

"Cause we rock. Camp Rock. We rock, we rock on." Sam glared at you, the expression really not matching the joyous music filling the room.

"He can only sing songs from Disney Channel Original Movies or people who were once on Disney Channel." You smiled to yourself, happy with the limits on the spell. "I do believe the last two were from Camp Rock."

"This should be an interesting night." Bruce shook his head, never one to understand the draw of practical jokes.

"That's an understatement." Steve shook his head. He finally had you and Bucky getting along, so of course you'd do something like this.

"Moving on." You pointedly glared at Clint, knowing he was about to bring up Budapest again. "Let's play a team game next."

"Charades?" Bucky suggested, trying to keep it simple enough.

You all split into two teams, Sam being sure to put himself against you and Bucky.

"Sam, you're definitely going down." You goaded, trying to draw out another song.

"Hey now, We no longer wait around. My team's stronger like weights now." He started rapping, or as close to rapping as it gets on Disney.

"Oh my God. That's even better than I expected." You laughed so hard, tears sprung up in your eyes.

"Disney raps now?" Tony questioned, also laughing at Sam's embarrassed face.

"Yes. Lemonade Mouth. An underrated film, honestly." You nodded, completely serious only earning more laughs from the team.

I. Love. You. Bucky's thoughts were written across his face, but somehow went unnoticed by you.

"That's okay, Sam." Bucky grinned. "Nobody's perfect."

"Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has those days. Everybody knows what, what I'm talking 'bout. Everybody gets that way."

You couldn't stop the smile from forming you your face, although rather than laughing at Sam's embarrassment you were now just enjoying Bucky being happy.

I. Love. You.

"I hate you both." Sam cleared his throat, no longer used to the sensation of speaking.

"It was Bucky's brilliant idea." You smiled at him. I love you.

"Well, it was Y/N's brilliant execution." He pressed a kiss to your nose. I love you.

"Dear Lord. I can't take this anymore." Wanda erupted, in a similar fashion to the night you turned Bucky into a cat. "I get it. You two love each other. Now, please! Learn how to control your thoughts!"

You and Bucky were wide eyed, stares flitting between Wanda and each other.

"You love me?" Your voice was soft showing how unsure of yourself you were.

Bucky nodded before voicing a similar question. "You love me?"

"Oops..." Wanda hid behind Vision, trying not to draw anymore attention to herself. Thankfully, all eyes were on you and Bucky.

"I really, really do." You whispered, eyes solely focused on Bucky.

Bucky pulled you in for a kiss, heart bursting with joy. He never thought he'd find someone to love him, let alone someone as incredible as you.

"I love you." Bucky whispered against your lips, kissing you between the words.

"I love you too." You kissed him right back, heart fluttering.

"I liked it better when they were constantly fighting." Sam muttered under his breath, earning a punch in the arm from Steve.

"Let them be. They're in love." He sighed with a happy smile. He couldn't help but think about how much Bucky deserved to be happy.

"I don't know if this is the cutest or grossest thing I've ever seen." Nat commented, eyes still focused on you and Bucky's whispered words and soft kisses.

"Grossest. Definitely the grossest." Clint added on, needing to jump out of the way as you and Bucky took off for your room, paying no mind to the many teammates laughing at you as you passed by.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #marvel fic

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melwilson · 3 years

Text

Good For You - B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: Modern AU. Kinda angsty, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of ptsd, suicide, anxiety

A/N: I wrote this in honor of our beloved Bucky’s birthday (yes, this is a few days late) I also just think it’s important to recognize the struggle that war vets go through on the daily. As someone who had family in the military, it sucks to watch them come home and not know how to live a civilian life. What is portrayed in this imagine is not the life of every vet, but the truth is...most are struggling. They’ve seen and done things that no one should ever have to, but they do it so we as civilians don’t have to and can live freely. veterans deserve the world. be kind.

Torrid. Sweltering. Iraqi heat.

The low rumble of a humvee. Buzzing flies.

Grumbled complaints, laughter following.

Cold steel of a semi-automatic.

Silence.

A high-pitched ringing. Smoke. Panic.

Hot sand. Flashes of light. Pain.

“Sergeant L/n...L/n...Y/n...”

“Y/n, hey. You alright?”

You blinked once. Twice. A third time before you finally came to yourself. A sharp breath passed between your lips, your eyes locking with a pair of warm brown ones. It had been months since your last flashback thanks to your weekly meetings with former Air Force pilot, Sam Wilson. He had approached you at the VA after he spotted you trying to sneak out. Bathroom or an exit strategy, you couldn’t really tell the difference. You had only gone to the meeting because your brother thought it might be good for you to attend one. There was a lot rolling around in your head. There was a burden you were carrying that no one could carry alone. Your brother knew that and if you wouldn’t open up to him maybe you would open up to someone who could relate to you. Months later you were thanking him for pushing you to go because there you had met your best friend and confidant. Sam was a light in your life when you never thought you would see light again. After getting back state side, he took it upon himself to help new war veterans. Though it took you awhile to warm up to him, you were grateful to talk to someone with shared life experience.

“Flashback?” Sam asked, his voice understanding. In the first few months of your meetings, you couldn’t go a day without seeing what had happened. It haunted you and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t outrun it. So you stopped trying. For awhile it felt as if you were drowning. You were too tired and the surface was too far. You were in so deep that there was no sunlight to guide you back. But slowly, your sessions with Sam allowed light to penetrate the surface. Each session allowed the light to go a little deeper guiding you up until you could grab onto Sam’s hand and he could help you up the rest of the way.

“Yeah...but I’m good.” Your voice was firm. Believable. To anyone else they would have moved on and changed the subject. Sam had gotten good at reading you. Your eyes told the story your lips refused to tell. “What were you saying?”

He nodded, shifting in his seat. “There’s a group meeting tonight. You don’t have to talk, but I think you should come. The people there...are good people.”

Your eyes glanced over the brick building that held the stories of many men and women who had been neglected by their country. Men and women who deserved better. You sighed as you pulled open the glass door, the solemn atmosphere hanging over you like a cloud. It didn’t matter that the sun was shining brightly through the windows, the things that were shared were anything but bright and uplifting. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jean jacket, your feet padding softly against the tile floor. The smell of coffee filled your nostrils as you rounded the corner into Sam’s room. He sent you a smile and a wave from where he was standing across the room. You returned the smile before grabbing a styrofoam cup and filling it with the warm liquid. Slowly, the room began to fill with veterans who usually had to fight the war going on in their heads alone. But for two hours, they were able to fight alongside those who understood. Those like you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Sam said, his shoulder brushing your own. He grabbed his own cup, filling it coffee, neglecting cream and sugar.

“I am too.”

You sat silently towards the back the room, listening intently to what was being shared and the bits of wisdom Sam threw out for the taking. He was such an easy-going, caring person. He was easy to talk to, never judged. There was a sincerity in his eyes that deemed him trustworthy. That’s why so many people liked him.

So far only four out of the twelve in attendance had shared. Steve- a tall, blonde, former seal who served six tours located all over the world. He was the physical embodiment of a soldier. You had seen him around the VA and Sam’s place before. He was kind, but his eyes held the weight of one who had seen too much. Tony- a marine whose story surprised you. He was smart and came from a wealthy family. He joined the military because taking over his family’s business didn’t appeal to him. He was quick witted and had a cocky smirk that made everyone roll their eyes. Natasha- A fiery red head who served as a Navy intelligence officer. She now worked in the private security business, but carried around a load of baggage from her days in the military. Clint- Former army sniper who retired after nearly being killed. He decided it was time to throw in the towel before he left his wife a widow and his three kids without a dad.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we have someone new tonight,” Sam mentioned. He held out his hand to a man sitting on the left of Steve. There was a ball cap atop his head, his shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears. He sported a brown jacket on top of a worn, red henley that was much too tight for his frame, dark blue jeans, a pair of black combat boots. “This is James, aka Bucky. It took a lot to get him to agree to show up, so please make him feel welcome. Let’s take a break.”

Soon the room filled with low chatter and Sam’s presence was felt behind you.

“Army vet,” he muttered shortly. “Five tours. He’s been home for a year cooped up in his apartment dealing with his mess. It’s torn him apart. You should go talk to him.”

You turned to him, an eyebrow raised.

“You’d be good for him,” Sam replied. He’d be good for you too.

Before you could object, Sam had pushed you in Bucky’s direction. You turned around, subtly flipping him off before taking a seat next to the brown-haired man. He glanced at you and you offered him a small smile.

“I, um, just wanted to introduce myself,” you said softly. “I’m Y/n.” You extended your hand, which he took hesitantly.

“James,” he muttered back. “Do you come to these often?”

You nodded, pulling your hand back, your fingers grazing over the callouses on James’ palm. “Sam forces me to. I don’t really have a choice.” An airy chuckle passed through your lips. “They help though,” you added, “If that’s what you’re really wanting to ask. I’m not a very open person either. Coming home with no purpose, no orders, and with what was going on inside my head...was detrimental. It’s not overstating things to say that Sam saved my life. I was hesitant to come too, but it was worth it. I’m here.” I’m alive.

He tilted his head up slightly, his eyes bouncing around the room nervously.

“I talked to Sam privately. I don’t feel comfortable talking in front of a group like this.”

“Does it have to be Sam?” He asked. “Like can I maybe talk to you?”

You were taken aback by his question, your eyes widening in surprise. Everyday was an uphill battle to keep your thoughts under control. Trying to help someone else with their trauma was a huge step. A step Sam had been urging you to take. “Me?”

“You don’t have to,” James rushed, “you just seem...nice.”

“No, no, It’s okay, We can grab coffee somewhere, or meet here.”

“What about you’re place?” James suggested.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds great. How does tomorrow sound?”

It was a five o’clock on the dot when there was a knock on your apartment door. You stood up and rubbed your sweaty palms on your jeans. You weren’t sure how Sam was such a natural, but you were already nervous. Opening the door, you were greeted with James. He was basically wearing the same thing as the day before, but instead of a red henley, a dark blue one covered his torso. His right hand was stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

“Hi,” you said softly, “Come on in.”

You watched as James’ eyes raked over your apartment. It smelled vaguely of the coffee you had brewed and fresh hardwood. To his left was a panel of windows with a beautiful view of the city. The sun was just overhead sending a stream of light into the room making it naturally warm. It’s homey, he thought to himself. A few picture frames littered the walls, a couple on the tables on either side of the couch. A particularly large picture caught his eye. A wide smile was on your face, your arms thrown around what seemed to be people from your unit. Your skin was kissed by the sun and James was sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Even though the photo was a little blurry, he could see the light in your eyes. A light, that looking at you right now, your eyes seemed to lack.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked, noticing how James hadn’t made any movement towards the couch.

“Water is fine.”

You returned from the kitchen with two glasses of ice water. James followed you to the couch where he sat down next to you, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you. This is the second time he had left his apartment in a week. He wasn’t sure the last time he actually had the will to get out of bed.

“We don’t have to deep dive into anything personal today. I know we don’t know each other and I know that this is weird for the both of us. You can ask me a couple of questions if you’d like.”

James sat stiffly on the couch, his knee bouncing slightly. “Where did you serve?”

“Germany, Egypt, Afghanistan. You?”

“Yemen, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Syria, Japan.”

You turned towards him, pulling a knee onto the couch. “Thank you.”

James glanced at you quizzically. “For what?”

“For what you did for this country. I know you don’t get told often enough. None of us do.” There was a sad smile on your face as you made eye contact, James’ blue eyes searching your own. His eyes were beautiful, though they had more darkness than any pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. They told his story and displayed the icy waves that threatened to pull him under.

“I don’t remember the last time someone said that to me,” James said sadly.

“Well, if no one else ever does...I will.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, not much was shared between the two of you. You learned that James wasn’t much of a talker, but he enjoyed listening to you. He enjoyed the comfort and warmth that you brought. Although he didn’t talk much, he was gradually becoming more comfortable around you. He was no longer sitting stiff on the edge of your couch. He knew where the glasses were to get himself water. He even suggested leaving your apartment a few times. You were proud of the progress he was making. It was slow and subtle, but maybe that’s what he needed.

Something was off. James could tell. You were unusually quiet and fidgety. Your usual calm demeanor was replaced with something he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

“What’s wrong?” he asked after twenty minutes of silence.

Your head snapped up, fingers messing the dog tags around your neck. “Nothing.” Not once had James seen you wear your dog tags or, as a matter of fact, seen anything that related to the army except for pictures.

“It’s an anniversary,” James put together, “You lost someone.”

Naturally, your gaze fell to the picture of your unit on the wall. An overwhelming sadness crept over you, your shoulders slumping, furrowed eyebrows tugging at each other.

“I-“

James cut you off before you could speak. “We don’t have to talk about it. I understand...and if you want to be alone, I understand that too.”

“No,” you shot back, “No, I want to talk about it. I want you to stay...please.” There was a desperation in your voice that you hated and that James had never heard before.

“I’ll stay. I’m here,” he reminded.

You swallowed allowing yourself to feel the emotions you had been trying to push away for a week. “We were in Afghanistan.” A distant look formed in your eyes. “Just a routine drive around the outskirts of the city. We stopped to talk to some the people...the kids would always run up to us because they knew we carried candy. This day we were taking a different route. It was a route traveled by locals so we just assumed it was safe...as safe as it could be for Americans. If we went under fire...there were fourteen of us. We could handle it. I remember having an off feeling about traveling this new route, but you always have an on edge feeling in a place like that. It keeps you aware. I shrugged it off, but I should have known something was wrong when there were no locals on the street that day. Officer Cale had said something undoubtedly hilarious. He was special. He made our time in the desert a little more bearable. He was in the passenger seat, I was behind him. I remember looking out of the window and spotting little patches of disturbed ground. I was going to say something, but it was too late. Our humvee didn’t take the hit...the one in front of us did.” Your voice was shaky, a stray tear rolling down your face. “Ours flipped upside down. I can’t remember what happened in the time of me getting dragged out, but I remember being under heavy fire. It was nine against at least two dozen combatants. We held them off for awhile, but more of them just kept coming. I was shot twice. My thigh and my arm. There was blood...everywhere. I thought I was gonna die that day.

Cale told me that there was a chopper two mikes out from our position. We just had to make it there. We had the advantage being at the top of the hill...so we made a run for it. He carried me most of the way there. We could see the chopper, but then we fell. Um, C-Cale had been hit. Twice in the leg, the other a dead shot.” James let his head fall, a shaky breath falling from his lips. He shifted closer to you, his hand reaching out to wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks. He let his hand fall to your lap, hesitantly intertwining his fingers with yours. You squeezed his palm weekly, thankful for the comfort and something to ground you. “He died trying to save my life and all he has to show for it is a damn purple heart. They had to leave his body and when they went back for it it was gone. Four of us made it out alive, Bucky. Ten of my brothers and sisters died. I got to come home, they gave me a purple heart and silver star, and told me live my life. Hide the trauma, forget what happened. I don’t go a day without thinking about them. And sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have died out there too.”

If you weren’t pouring your heart out to him, Bucky would have relished in the way his nickname rolled off your tongue. Instead, he pulled his hand from your grasp and shrugged off his jacket. You glanced up at him and then down at his left arm. A prosthetic. Not once had you noticed it. “IED. Pakistan. I lost everyone too. My arm...or lack thereof, reminds me of it everyday. Because I was their Sergeant, that guilt has driven me over the edge more than once. If I hadn’t met you two months ago...I don’t think I’d be here right now.” His confession caused you to sob harder and suddenly, you were met with a warm chest and a chin on top of your head. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Y/n. You don’t hear it enough.”

You weren’t sure how long you guys stayed there and you weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but when you woke up you were still on the couch. An arm was wrapped securely around your waist holding you flush against them.

“Sleep good?”

You jumped, your head shooting over to where the sound of a familiar voice was coming from. “What are you doing here?”

Sam chuckled. “You didn’t answer my calls yesterday. I came over this morning and walked in on this.” Bucky shifted, his grip loosening allowing you to sit up and slide off the couch.

“I should have never given you a key,” you muttered. Your brushed past him, moving to start a pot of coffee. You could feel Sam’s heavy gaze on your frame causing you to turn around. “What?”

“Are you alright?” Sam’s voice was low, a hint of worry laced in his eyes.

You nodded your head, your eyes falling to the sleeping man on your couch. It was probably the most at peace you had seen Bucky, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. “Yeah. I’m alright.

You followed Sam over to the door. He was halfway out of the apartment when he asked, “Was I right?” He’d be good for you too.

“Aren’t you always?”

A smile covered his lips, “You deserve to be happy. He does too.”

“I know,” you replied. “Thanks for checking in.”

“Anything for you. Call me later.”

You watched Sam down the hall before the shutting the door trying to stay as quiet as possible.

“Sam invading your space again?”

You turned around, a laugh falling from your lips. “As always.” You watched as Bucky sat up, patting the space next to him. “How’d you sleep?”

“The best I have in a long time,” Bucky answered honestly.

There was a short pause as you thought of what to say next. “Thank you for staying.” You reached out to grab Bucky’s hand giving it a short squeeze.

He brought the back of your hand to his lips before his dropping your tangled hands onto your lap. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

#fatws bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #the winter solider x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the avengers #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

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vanillann · 3 years

Text

this town (s.w.)

a/n: first ever sam fic and i lowkey really like it

sam wilson x gender neutral reader

word count:

sam wilson masterlist

I dropped my bag in the passager seat as I raced to Sarah’s side, letting my hands grab the box that was slowly slipping from the top of the pile in her hands.

“Oh thank God- (Y/N)!”

I smiled, taking my place beside Sarah as we walked to an open table that had a few men from the docks I remembered from years of coming by.

“You know, gravity is still a thing, and what you were trying to do is damn near impossible,” I placed the box on the table and let my arms wrap around her shoulders tightly.

“Don’t you go talking about impossible, you managed to keep this place in check for five years with no help,” Sarah pulled back, taking my face in her hands while she quickly looked me over. I rolled my eyes but felt the pride swell in my chest.

The five years within the blip was hard, very clearly, but I and two other boat owners managed to keep the place in tack until everyone came back from God knows where.

“I’ve missed you.”

Sarah smiled, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight while it beat down on us in the Louisiana air. It would’ve close to perfect if it wasn’t for the strong scent of fish and men yelling over boats, but it was just like it had always been. My family debating with the Wilson’s over who made better sweet tea while Sam and I would throw sweet potatoes at one another, it wasn’t a fun game but a game nonetheless.

“I’ve missed you more,” Sarah pulled me back once more before the roar of an engine dragged us from our sweet moment. I looked up, seeing the tail lights of a truck I haven’t seen in years flash us as it came down the dirt path.

“Sam’s here?”

“Apparently,” Sarah placed a hand on her hip, her sisterly glare still in tack after all these years as Sam’s truck parked and the door swung open.

I wasn’t prepared to see him in all his ‘superhero’ glory, but I suppose I never would be as his smile was brighter than ever. He hugged an old family friend, his arms wrapping around them like a warm blanket on a cold evening and I wondered how I haven’t thought about him in so long. How had I forgotten his remarks and his checky little laugh?

“There she is!”

I considered running around the tent that had been set up and hiding until I could safely run to my car but I heard one of Sarah’s boys yell out my name and suddenly most eyes were on me.

“There is my favorite boy!”

I leaned down to hug him, I wanted to run and hide but I wasn’t going to ignore him, the price of love.

“(Y/N)?”

I cringed, holding on to the boy in front of me a little tighter before he let go running to his uncle. A goofy smile was on his face as to he almost fell running but Sam only smiled, looking me over once, before his nephew gained his attention.

I could count it outright, make a run for it maybe and never have to see the boy how I almost waited for once he joins the Air Force.

“Will you help me?”

I turned around, an older man struggling with some boxes and he couldn’t move them all. I sighed, walking over with my best smiling and sliding the box with the older man while we made it to his ship. Once we were done he gave me a large smile and handed me a five-dollar bill, when I tried to give it back he refused.

I spun on my heels, frowning when I spotted Sam walking in my direction.

I could’ve made a run for it, I know I could’ve made it.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing, Sam,” his name felt foreign on my tongue, let a broken promise that I refused to speak of, that’s exactly what he was.

“Well, I came to see Sarah!”

He still had the gentle charisma he had as a kid, his goofy bright smile that ran in the family, and his perfect brown eyes you never want to stop looking into.

“Well, great minds think alike,” I rocked back and front, wondering how we went from everything to nothing without barely a letter in between.

“Yeah, yeah I suppose.”

The awkward silence felt like too much as I watched his brows crease and his eye scans me up and down like an unknown force. Is this really what we had become?

“Still living in the farmhouse?”

“No, I got my own place now,” I wondered did I mention it wasn’t far from Sarah’s place so I could help out with the kids, but when his name was being called I decided not to say a word.

“Coming! Are you bust tonight?” Sam’s finger almost hit my chest as he waited, his leg bouncing, for my answer.

“Y-yeah-”

“Great, let’s get dinner!”

I didn’t have time to come up with a sad excuse before he was jogging away, falling into conversation with his sister as if nothing had ever happened to begin with. As if he didn’t asl his high school sweetheart to dinner years later.

I should’ve stayed home.

I walked through the door of the old restaurant, Sam didn’t have to tell me where he wanted to eat as it was ‘our place’ when we were kids. I spotted him in a booth not far from the large window, a dark blue turtle neck that made him look more handsome than I ever remembered him.

I slowly went around tables and chairs, careful not to fall as I found my way to the other side of him. As soon as his head lifted I knew I was done for it, the glitter in his brown eyes and his perfect smile was the same it had always been.

“You came,” his voice was light and airy as he watched me slip in across from him, his hand almost reaching across the table but he stopped and grabbed a napkin instead.

“You know I wouldn’t pass up free food.”

“Who said it was free?”

I felt the laugh boil over, the carefree demeanor r he always had run through me easily as he watched me like old times.

“So, how’s everything been here? I haven’t seen you since,” his words trailed off and we both knew what he was going to say.

The Air Force ripped our relationship apart before we even realized it had even begun, but I suppose it always seems to go that way.

“Been good, the blip was hard on everyone but I managed to pull it off,” I played with a loose thread, my fingers finding safety in the repeating motions.

“Yeah, yeah I get it.”

I was scared the silence would come back, the awkward pain of watching someone who knew me inside and out forget how to even speak to me.

“I order you a lemonade, I know it was always your favorite.”

Suddenly I was in junior year, laughing with Sam about my math grade and the joke Sam made with the football team. How could he do it?

“Still is, I’ve never been good with change.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” he wiggled his eyebrows in my direction as the waitress left the drinks on the table and hurried off, most likely to ask her co-workers if that who she thought it was.

“So, Avenger?”

“Don’t start with him,” he rolled his eyes, the straw stuck between his lips as he gave me a pleading look.

“I thought you were staying in D.C. and suddenly your sister is calling me that you’re on T.V.!”

“When Cap says help, you help,” he set his drink beside mine, his head resting on his shoulder and his eyes burned into my skin.

“I suppose,” I trailed off, smiling when I noticed him smirking under his arm.

“What now?”

“Remember when I told you we have something special?”

I felt like a stuttering mess and I search from the right word, trying to figure out where to go from here. How do I turn back now?

“Yeah, um, freshman year,” I took the straw between my teeth and let the cold lemonade rush down my throat that was suddenly dry.

“I was really bold back them, huh?”

“Yeah, never knew when to shut up,” I smirked with the straw between my lips as he rolled his eyes. Did anything ever change? Was I still ‘his girl’ or was I just a girl?

“I can’t believe you actually agreed, I ran into Sarah’s room after and just talked about you for hours.”

My heart was slamming against my chest, the feeling that I felt as a kid was definitely still there as he smiled at me with this wondrous look in his eye.

“Sarah probably wanted to kill you.”

“Nah, she loved it when I gushed about you. Called us soulmates,” he shrugged, waiting for me to fill in after but I had no words anymore.

“Too bad, huh?”

“What’s too bad?” Sam’s arms reached across the table, his fingers inches from mine as he looked up from under his eyelashes at me.

“We weren’t,” I paused, “Soulmates I mean.”

Silence, that’s all I heard as the waitress came back and placed two plates in front of us. I opened my mouth, ready to tell her we hadn’t ordered, but I was left speechless as I looked down at the place.

A plate of Mac and Cheese sat in front of me, just like when Sam would make me when I was sad in high school. He could never make anything else and I never had the heart to tell him I wasn’t a huge fan, but by graduation, it was my comfort food.

“Mac and Cheese?”

The waitress was skipping away, my doubt following her as I looked up to Sam’s face. His eyes were wide as they waited for me, his nerves clear as day.

“I know how much you liked it-”

“I didn’t,” I felt my smile slowly find its way to my lips, “not until you made it for me.”

“Really? You let me make you mac and cheese all that time and you didn’t even like it?’

I shrugged, smiling like a psycho as I waited to find the right words. I wasn’t letting him walk out of this restaurant without me this time.

“You must have really loved me.”

“I do,” I finally looked him directly in the eye, surprise when the gentle sparkle of them made me sink farther into the seat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I grabbed my fork, smiling when his hand laid on top of mine.

“Should’ve told me before I made a fool of myself.”

“You’d still do that somehow.”

Bless this town for bringing him back to me.

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thebestpersonherelovesbucky · 3 years

Text

Falcon and the Winter Soldier Ep. 6 Takeaway

First let me say that I really truly enjoyed this show. I was so nervous at the beginning and I was so nervous for the end, and though there are things that I didn’t like (as to be expected with pretty much any media) my overall excitement was rewarded. I definitely give the show an A and can only hope that we keep getting things like this and WandaVision with their next shows.

Anyway.

Sam and Bucky (and Sharon) coordinating from their different spots. I always like seeing the tactical side of working together in addition to the badass fighting together stuff.

The officer not questioning Bucky’s presence and calling him Sargent Barnes made me SO happy.

The facial mask thing-y that Natasha had in Cap 2 making a reappearance. Idk why I like that but it’s nice to know that these things are still being utilized.

CAPTAIN AMERICA’S FIRST ENTRANCE!!!! my GOD did Sam ROCK that!!! Fucking AH-MAY-ZING.

Sam’s new costume is perfect like the comics!! It’s so often changed that it’s so great to see it on screen!

“I’m sorry, wait. Who are you?” “I’m Captain America.” The parallel between this is Steve’s “Um...Captain America.” in the First Avenger.

The subtitles saying “Captain America” now whenever Sam in uniform talks.

Bucky trying to talk Karli down, approaching from a different angle than Sam because it’s what he knows and honestly does want to stop her without it coming to a fight. Especially when he realizes it’s a trap and is all “oh fuck me” and needs to haul ass lol. That is Bucky Barnes to a T.

“Seriously, Bucky, you had one job.” Omg, Sharon. lmao

Sam’s fight with Batroc was so cool. No serum. Just straight up ass kicking plus the au revoir at the end. Yes please and thank you.

Redwing!!!! Yaaaay!!!! (”a little birdie told me” lmao, Sam.)

Seeing the Vibranium wings in ACTION. Bouncing a freaking helicopter off them! FUCK!!!!! SO COOL!!!

I can watch Bucky Barnes throwing himself off a motorcycle all day long.

Bucky stopping his fight to save everyone.

John Walker and his stupid Walmart Shield arriving just in time to add fire to fire. Thanks, bro.

Bucky specifically being thanked for rescuing them. He’s spent so much time with so much guilt that having just one person say “thank you for rescuing us” actually made him pause. He’s spent so much time as the “villain” that he’s forgotten he can be the hero and it’s so good to see that finally hit him.

The metal arm scraping across the ground. Good god.

Sam popping out of the water and “Boy, you earned this ass whooping!”

That helicopter scene holy SHIT is Sam amazing.

And some applause for Ayla, too!!!!

John Walker ultimately choosing to save people instead of going on with his vendetta. Very comic book in character.

Bucky watching in horror as the van is slowly going over the edge and then smiling in wonder and awe as Captain America saves them all.

“That’s the Black Falcon there! I tell you!” “Nah. That’s Captain America!” Tears. Actual tears. SO MANY TEARS. Sam Wilson IS CAPTAIN AMERICA, baby!!!

Uh, yeah, so Bucky stopping weapons mid-air is one of my favorite things ever.

Okay, Batroc, go the fuck away now, we’re done with you.

I do like that when push comes to shove, the mission outweighed their personal grudges and Sam and Bucky “teamed up” with Walker. Not that it was 100% trust on their side. I think Bucky followed Walker bc “eeeeh....can we really trust him?” and since he has no doubt Sam can handle himself, but also, we’re fighting the same thing right as of this moment so lets just keep our heads and do it.

I am absolutely not thrilled with the direction they took Sharon. Like. Not at all. I’m...reserving full judgement for what I’m assuming will come in the future but like. No. Nuh-ah. Not happy with it.

Sam trying so hard to help Karli. The fact that he legit refused to fight her and she tried so hard to get him to fight back and he just wouldn’t. So beautiful and poignant. Sam’s fighting style. Sam perseverance. Just. Everything about that.

As good as the scene was (and I think it was great. The set up. How it all went down. The raw emotion) I’m kinda bummed they killed Karli. I was hoping Sam could at least talk her down first. However, the emotion and symbolism of her dying in his arms, and whispering “i’m sorry” was so heartbreaking.

The way Bucky and Walker got the rest of the Flag Smashers was hilarious.

Sam carrying Karli’s body cradled in his arms and flying down with her like a literal angel? I mean. Just rip my heart out.

“You have to stop calling them terrorists.” and “Your peacekeeping troops carrying weapons are forcing millions of people into settlements around the world, right? What do you think those people call you.” These first few lines of Sam’s speech. God, thank you.

Sam’s Captain America Speech. No fuck’s given. I’m so glad they didn’t hold back and just let him really give that powerful speech. Unabashedly saying “I’m a Black man carrying the stars and stripes. What don’t I get?”. Admitting the weight that comes with it and the judgement he feels. Not backing down. Telling the world he is Captain America “no super serum, no blond hair or blue eyes”. Defending Karli and trying to get them to understand what she was trying to do and why she was trying to do it. Sam was 100% born to be Captain America.

Everyone watching Captain America’s speech. Bucky. Walker. Isaiah and Eli. Joaquin. Sarah. The world. Beautiful watching Captain America deliver his first speech.

“Sorry I was texting so all I heard was Black guy in stars and stripes...nice job, Cap.” That back clap Bucky gives Sam there? ((#boyfriends))

“Can you help?” “Always.”

Very happy that Zemo had another villain move up his sleeve. Didn’t really dig the whole “i’m so graceful feel sorry for me” thing.

John Walker becoming US Agent.

Oh and, excuse me while I geek out over Valentina, Walker, Zemo...@marvel, I see where this might be headed. Please don’t let me down!

Bucky making his amends with Nakajima. The overwhelming emotions. The fear of admitting it. I kinda wish we saw a little more but I’m also okay with the ambiguity of it and knowing that Bucky knows that he at least gave him closure and is coming to accept that his role as the winter soldier was not his fault.

Also liked Bucky giving the book to his therapist. I know it’s an unpopular opinion, but I take no issues with her and I do think that Bucky felt she helped him.

Eli Bradley is fucking adorable.

Sam’s conversation with Isaiah. All that hope he represents while not erasing the pain that Isiah and generations before them suffered. Still wanting to fight for what’s right just because it’s the right thing to do. Isaiah not condemning Sam’s choice. Beautiful and poignant.

Um. The museum scene? Yeah, I had to pause for a good ten minutes before I could actually continue with the show. Isaiah Bradley and all his men deserved that ((and so much more)) for so long. The catharsis so visible when Isaiah hugs Sam so tight. The zoom in on the statue. Okay, I’m crying again.

Yeah, so when Bucky’s boyfriend has a BBQ he shows up like dancing like a dork with a cake and plays with all the kids.

Honestly, happiness looks so good on him. It’s so nice to see that again.

They really ended it with Sam and Bucky embracing and walking off together in the sunset.

CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER

Again, still not thrilled with what’s going on with Sharon but clearly they’re setting up for something so...I’m putting a bookmark in to hold my judgement.

Bc honestly, my biggest focus is:

CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER

Seriously though, overall, I think this was one of the best things Marvel has put out there in a while and I know I’ll come back to it again and again. Here’s hoping to more Cap to come!!!!

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #john walker #falcon and the winter soldier #captain america and the winter soldier #mcu #marvel #disney plus #my stuff #long post #capws spoilers #fws spoilers

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fairlyspnfanfic · 3 years

Text

The Ties that Bind Us

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because...well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2826

Tags: Angst, Fluff, nightmares, all the fun stuff.

I wrang my hands together nervously. They were all sweat; clammy and cold while simultaneously uncomfortably hot. My breathing was deceptively calm, though every other part of me shook as my anxiety climbed. I closed my eyes, pushing my hands down on the mattress on either side of me and took a deep steadying breath. Talking myself into pushing my body into a standing position, I opened my eyes and left my room, consciously putting one foot in front of the other.

“Guys?” My voice rang out in the echoey halls, shaking and hoarse. I cleared my throat and ran my hands through my hair as I continued making my way into the main room. There they were. Dean, his feet kicked up on the table, a large, brown dusty book sprawled on his lap and a beer firmly clasped in his hand as he focused on the words on the page. Sam, pacing back and forth silently behind him.

It had been weeks since we had found a job. The last actual gig we had been on was pretty small-fry. A pair of ghouls wreaking havoc in a college town that we had taken care of in less than a weekend. The local fraternity parties didn’t even notice, and the drunken sorority girls went on with their lives none the wiser.

But this? This job was going to be huge. If not in scale, then in emotion alone. Not for the boys. They wouldn’t have any clue; I’d make sure of that. The pack had been on the prowl for decades, maybe longer. Long enough to have destroyed my life, killed my family, and upend everything I knew to be true when I was only four years old. And now they were back. I rubbed the sweat from my palms that would have given me away on the back of my jeans, before grabbing the chair opposite from Dean. The wheels moved faster than I expected as it began to roll behind me. I lowered myself quickly into the seat, as if the mishap was entirely intentional, but the smirk at the corner of Dean’s smile let me know my attempt had failed.

I hated the chairs in the map room. The side armrests dug into my hips and I was never quite comfortable in them. But who was I to question generations of decorum? I crossed my legs as eloquently as I could, adjusting so that I was practically sitting on one hip in order to keep the bars from digging into them.

The laptop Sam had out on the table was still booted up. I reached out, grabbing it and quickly pulled up the article that I had found this morning. “Woman’s Body Found Mangled in Historic District.” I spun the screen around, allowing Dean to see. He skimmed through it quickly before sneering. “Doesn’t really scream monster there, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes, returning control of the computer to myself and pulled up three more articles, all within the last two months. “Teen Killed in Apparent Pit Bull Attack,” followed by “Couple Maimed in Forrest Preserve” and “Missing Child Found Had Been Attacked by Unidentified Animal.” I pushed the screen over to Dean again.

“Well, maybe that does merit a look-see.” His tune changed. Whenever there was a lapse between jobs, Dean would get antsy. His temperament changed, he was jumpy, and nothing could make him happier than a new destination and a big bad to gank.

“What’s that?” Sam said as he practically skipped up to the table like an excited puppy.

“Get this,” I began before Dean cut me off.

“Y/N,” he chastised. “That’s Sam’s line.” He winked at me as a smile spread widely across his face. That smile. The one that could bring world peace as far as I was concerned. At the very least, it made my knees weak, breath hitch, and I lost all train of thought.

I quickly pulled myself back together and pushed my daydreaming mind back to the task at hand. Dean pushed the laptop over to Sam, allowing him to read through them quickly. “So, what are we thinking, Werewolves? Hellhounds?”

“Werewolves,” I said definitively. My face was deadpan, and it didn’t seem to go unnoticed. “Look at the descriptions. There’s something they aren’t saying. The bodies were all attacked at night, and each one was during the full moon. Plus, the missing kid? He was 8. That’s not enough time for any demon deal to go down and a Hellhound to get involved. No, it’s a werewolf. No doubt in my mind.” I was all seriousness and they knew it. Sam simply nodded, his eyebrows creased suspiciously, but he didn’t question me.

“Well then,” Dean said, clapping his hands together as he all but jumped to his feet. “Let’s get on the road. It’s a little over seven hours to Missouri. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.” He was like a kid at Christmas as he bounced down the hallway to his room.

“Only guy in the world to get the warm and fuzzies from a bunch of dead bodies,” I laughed, shaking my head, closing the laptop, and uncrossing my legs. I stood up slowly and stretched my arms above my head.

Sam didn’t take his probing eyes off me as he crossed his arms. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Samuel?” I mocked him in response.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

I did my best version of shock and outrage, looking around as if I wasn’t quite sure what he was alluding to. “What?”

“You’ve never been so adamant about a job before. Hell, you’re usually the one trying to talk us out of taking jobs. What gives?” I rolled my eyes as dramatically as I could.

“Nothing. It just seems like a pretty clear gig to me. And if bodies are dropping every month, and more bodies each time?” I shook my head. “Then the next ones are on us.” I locked eyes with the younger Winchester, attempting to convey my point with a look.

His expression still seemed doubtful, but he nodded his head and walked towards his room, patting my shoulder as he passed by me. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Half an hour later, we were all piled into the Impala. Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, and I lounged across the backseat, scouring the news for any updates. The next full moon wouldn’t be for another week, but I wasn’t willing to allow anything to be missed. Not when I could stop it.

A couple of hours later, my eyes began to droop, and my cell phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor between my feet. But my exhaustion won out over my need to secure the phone.

I looked down at my hands. They were sticky and coated with a thick layer of blood. I had no idea if it was mine or someone else’s, but the terror that rose in my chest didn’t care. All around me, the only sounds I could hear were the violent gnashing of teeth, the moist squelching of flesh being torn from bone, and the small, muted whimpers from someone that I had yet to lay my eyes on. I looked around but everything around me was coated in darkness. Only my hands were visible in a dim red light that seemed to come from nowhere. I took a step forward, feeling my foot slip as the wet floor beneath me was coated in that same tacky liquid that was all over my hands. Looking in front of me, I came eye to eye with a single pair of vibrant yellow orbs that seemed to stop me in my tracks. Paralyzed with fear, I froze, unwilling and wholly unable to continue forward. A low grumble began emanating from those same eyes as they moved closer to me. The grumble turned quickly to a growl; vicious and hungry with a deep, bone chilling timbre. Suddenly, the eyes were directly in front of me, inches from my face. So close that I could feel the hot, rank breath on my cheek before a loud, piercing snarl rang in my ear.

My eyes snapped open and the sweat running down my neck sent a chill down my spine. My sharp inhale was the only sound made and I did my best to calm down before making any further noise. My nightmares had always been the same and had always been my own. Nobody had ever found out about them, especially the boys, and I fully intended to keep it that way.

Stretching my arms to my sides as best as I could, I made a dramatic show of waking. “Where are we?” I asked.

Glancing to the front seat I could see Sam slumped against the window, his head tilted back, mouth open, and very much asleep. Dean was still in the driver’s seat, bobbing his head and mouthing along with Steven Tyler as he belted out the lyrics to “Dream On.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, giving me that same world-peace smile that only he seemed to know how.

“About 100 miles outside St. Charles. I’ve gotta stop for gas though. You hungry?” I nodded back to him as I rubbed my eyes, clearing out the sandy bit of sleep that had formed in the corners.

“Do you need to change out? I can drive the last of the way.” I offered, knowing he’d never go for it. He never had before.

“I’m good. Got a solid three hours of shut eye last night.” He winked at me in the mirror. Pushing down the butterflies in my stomach and doing my best to suppress the blush that I was sure was creeping to my cheeks, I looked out the window. The sun had just come down, creating an orange sky with just a hint of pink. I took a deep breath and turned back to facing the driver.

Dean pulled off onto an exit ramp and turned into a QT Gas Station. “What are you in the mood for?” he asked me. I shrugged.

“Surprise me.” The glint in his eye and the devilish smile that he gave me in return elicited an exaggerated eye roll from me. “Just go get some road food.” I waved him away. “I’ll pump.” I opened my door as quietly as I could and stepped around to the gas pump. I twisted the gas cap, put my card in the machine, or rather Stacey Abrams’ card, and began filling the tank.

I watched Dean walk up and into the convenience store, his bowed legs taking long strides as he did so. He grabbed the door and held it open, making a big show as he gestured for the woman coming out the door to pass before him. The leggy blonde walked by, tucking her perfectly silky hair behind her perfect ears as her perfectly perky tits bounced their way out of the shop. I watched as Dean’s eyes followed her out, obviously and lustily eyeing her up and down, appreciating the view.

The sharp stab to my chest wasn’t new. The jealousy mixed with disappointment happened pretty frequently after all. But each time felt like ripping off a band aid before the wound had begun to heal.

The gas pump stopped, the telling “clunk” of the machinery drawing my attention back to my task. I tapped the spout on the edge of the tank before fully withdrawing it and hanging it back up on the pump. I ripped the receipt off quickly, shoving it into my back pocket as I walked back around the car and settled into my seat again.

“You know, you could always just tell him.” Sam’s voice rang out, surprising me, from the front seat.

“Shit, Sam.” I said. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Tell him.” He had turned around now, staring me dead in the face as if we were locked in a staring contest that I hadn’t agreed to participate in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said a bit too defensively.

“Right.” He rolled his eyes at me. “You do realize I know every tell you have, right?”

I shook my head at him, chuckling. “Samuel, I think you must still be dreaming.”

“Like that.” He pointed at me. “You’re biting your cheek. You only do that when you’re lying. Next, you’ll be pulling on your ear lobe, just like that.” He accused me as I did just as he said.

“No, I’m not.” He glared at me in response. “Shut up.” I bit at him, jokingly, sticking my tongue out at him as I crossed my arms.

Dean opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Dude,” he said excitedly, holding up a white paper bag. “Taquitos!”

A little over 100 miles later, we were pulling into the local motel. Sam had gone to check us in while Dean and I grabbed the bags from the trunk.

“Peartree Inn?” I said, dejectedly. Dean looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Just once, it would be so nice to stay at a 5-star hotel. Hell, I’d settle for 4 stars if it meant a comfy bed that didn’t have my back aching in the morning and a hot tub to soak in at night.” I closed my eyes and sighed, dreaming.

“I’ll be sure to get you a hot tub at the next place we stay in. Long as I can join you,” he said, cocking his head towards me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Hey,” Sam said, running up to us both. “So, they only have rooms with two beds max. No roll-away’s or cots. But I got us two rooms. Best I could do.” He handed a card key to each of us. A small sticky note was attached to each. “Dean, we’re in 213. Y/N, you’re in 436.” I nodded my head, handed Sam his bag and headed inside.

The front desk clerk waved at me as I went in and pointed towards the elevators. Thanking her, I walked over and pushed the call button. The doors opened instantly, and I stepped in without waiting for Sam and Dean to catch up. Once I dropped off my bags and went to the bathroom, I planned on heading to their room anyway to go over our plan.

But just after I’d used the restroom and rinsed my face, there was a solid knock at the door. “Gimme a second,” I shouted as I grabbed a hand towel and dried my face off. The peephole on the door was small with a silver dongle covering it up until you swung it to the side. I checked to see who it was before unlatching the deadbolt and opening the door.

“Bad news, Y/N.” Dean said as he walked in, making himself comfortable on my King size bed. He was lounging back, his head resting on a combination of my pillows and his own hand as his legs sprawled out in front of him. “No hot tubs in the whole joint.” I laughed at him, throwing my hand towel into the bathroom.

“So, where’s Sam? I figured we needed to get our plan of attack sorted.”

“Oh,” Dean said, straightening up a bit. “He’s down in our room. We didn’t get the fancy penthouse view you did.” My eyes wandered over to the balcony and the sliding doors that lead out to it. I pointed to it and tilted my head, silently asking if he’d like to join me outside. He all but leapt out of bed and over to the door, yanking it open. The track was rusted and in desperate need of some WD-40, but he was able to grant us egress.

We walked onto the balcony and looked down. The penthouse view as Dean called it wasn’t the greatest. A moderately busy highway for as late at night on a weeknight as it was, and some unkempt trees just barely allowed us to see the airport beyond it. But the fresh air and the sounds of the cars rushing by was a tonic to the anxiety that had been eating at me all day.

I leaned on the railing, my hands clasped together, as I inhaled the fresh air and felt my hair blowing ever so slightly in the wind. I could feel Dean walk up and join me. “Feels pretty nice out here,” he said softly.

I smiled. “Yeah, it does.” I opened my eyes and looked down again, remembering the reason we were here. As peaceful as it felt right now, there were monsters just down the road. The very monsters from my nightmares. And no matter how terrified it left me, I wouldn’t be leaving before I drove a silver bullet through each of their hearts.

To Be Continued......Part Two

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93@supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Photo

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

#my writing #tfatws #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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deancaskiss · 3 years

Text

Tinsel and Tourists - Chapter Ten

Word Count: 1,811 (another long chapter, I’m sorry)

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“For God’s sake, Dean. Snap out of it, lover boy. We’ve got a real case here that’s far more complicated than a salt-n-burn. Could you quit staring at your phone with heart-eyes for five freaking seconds so we can actually do our jobs,” Sam said, crossing his arms and snapping his computer open with a poignant look thrown Dean’s way.

“You’re the one who set me up with him in the first place,” Dean shot back. “You’ve been deliberately pushing us together, and just when I’m about to kiss him, you had to interrupt.”

“Dead body showed up and we needed to check it out. Pretty damn important if you ask me,” Sam said.

“You couldn’t have waited one extra minute? You clearly saw I was milliseconds away from finally kissing him-”

Sam loudly slammed a book down onto the table, effectively cutting Dean off. “Five times, Dean. Five times tonight so far you’ve given me crap for interrupting. I’m sick of hearing about it. Go out there and find Cas and kiss him right now or shut the hell up and get to work, unless you want whatever this is to take Cas and kill him, too.”

Damn. That was a sobering thought. If any monster even so much as looked at Cas, Dean swore he was going to lose it. He couldn’t stop his mind from screaming mine; a protective streak burning inside his gut and wrapping up into his chest.

Placing his phone back down on the table, Dean opened his own laptop and sighed. “How do we even begin to start narrowing down what this thing is? Is there any connection between Callie and Oliver?”

Sam pushed both of the files across the table towards Dean. “Other than the fact they were roughly around the same age, 28 and 29, that’s all I’ve got. Callie worked at the local theater. Oliver was a second grade teacher. They live in different neighborhoods and run in completely different social circles. Oliver is well known in town and is one of the most popular teachers at the elementary school. Callie was quieter. Both of them have helped out with work around the town in different ways- Oliver volunteers at the local animal shelter and Callie helped out at the elderly home. As far as I can tell, both of them are pictures of model citizens, just in different ways.”

Flipping open the files, Dean scanned the contents as he listened to Sam rattle off the big details. “So either they’re both hiding something and that’s why they were targeted, or they both really were squeaky clean and that’s why they were taken.”

“This whole town is filled with good people, Dean. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down for who could potentially be taken next. And we can’t exactly protect an entire town,” Sam said. “Something about it still feels sacrificial.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head down to the table before muttering, “We’ve talked about this, though. No signs of a God in town. No happy success stories or flourishing town.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and all Dean could hear was the clacking of Sam’s keys as he typed. He let his eyes close, mind wandering back to Cas and their date tomorrow night. God, he was so freaking whipped it was unbelievable. How was he even supposed to tell Cas he’d never been ice skating in his entire life? He was going to look like a complete idiot falling on his ass on the ice tomorrow. And yet, despite the impending humiliation, Dean’s heart was hammering against his chest just at the mere thought of seeing Cas again.

He replayed the almost-kiss over again for probably the hundredth time that night, and he felt himself flush. Cas’ lips… God, even just the briefest brush had been enough to have Dean breathless. He’d been half tempted to walk out of the motel and find Cas when Sam suggested it, merely because he could barely get his brain to focus on anything except kissing Cas and how damn good those chapped lips would feel sliding against his own.

When his phone buzzed on the table, breaking his wandering thoughts, Dean all but hurled himself to pick it up, hoping it was another text from Cas. When he saw Bobby’s name, he scoffed and dropped the phone back down again; trying desperately to tamper down the disappointment that it wasn’t Cas.

“You’re like a lovesick teenager,” Sam muttered from the other side of the table.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Dean snapped back instantly.

“Sure you’re not. That wasn’t a predictable reaction to thinking your crush has texted you only to find out it wasn’t him,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go screw yourself. I don’t have a crush. I’m not twelve.”

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so transparent you might as well be translucent, Dean.”

Pushing his chair back, Dean stood up. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a beer from the fridge because I’m way too sober to be dealing with your crap right now,” Dean muttered, storming off to the small fridge in the room.

Just as Dean got the cap off the beer, a thought flittered into his head. “You keep saying it feels sacrificial, right?”

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean approached, taking the beer that Dean held out to him as a peace offering. “Yeah, but as you keep pointing out, there’s no signs of a God.”

“Right, but what if the sacrifices aren’t being done by a God, but being done to appease a God? Something that was protecting and serving the Gods. Almost a middle man between the Gods and the people.”

Sam thought about it for a second before nodding. “We are days away from the winter solstice. And all the patterning shows the sacrifices leading right up to that time frame. And you said it when we left the scene, the way her body was cut up, it was precise; extremely ritualistic.”

“No blood left in her, either. And no obvious signs of vamps draining people around here. A blood offering?”

Sam hummed, before he started typing with renewed interest. “You might be onto something. I’ve got a couple theories. Why don’t you put a call out to Bobby to see if he knows anything, and I’ll hit the lore.”

“Got it,” Dean said, grabbing his phone and taking his beer with him as he stepped outside to call Bobby. After explaining everything that was happening with the case and the details they’d picked up so far, Bobby promised he’d do some research of his own and call if he found anything useful.

By the time he’d finished his call with Bobby, Dean had finished his beer and he was pleasantly warm inside despite the cold wind.

In the morning, he’d blame it on the alcohol, which was a weak excuse when he’d only had the one beer. And yet, after he hung up with Bobby, his finger moved to hover over Cas’ contact. And before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed call.

The second the dialing tone rang in his ear, Dean panicked and went to hang up, but Cas answered on the second ring.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart instantly kicked up in his chest, and he felt the air in his lungs stutter at just hearing Cas’ voice through the phone.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said.

“Did something happen? Is there- has there been another death?”

Dean shook his head, kicking a small bank of snow as he began to walk around the motel. “No. No, I just- I uh, I missed you.”

Shit. As soon as the words came out, Dean winced. What was wrong with him? He really was a lovesick teenager. One date and a botched first kiss and Dean was so smitten he could barely go five seconds without thinking about Cas. Just hearing Cas’ voice made Dean yearn, and the words had slipped out without his control. And yet, he meant them. Even the case was barely keeping his attention right now. He’d already began an internal countdown to their date tomorrow night, which was pathetic and desperate and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’ve kept my phone with me all night since you texted me,” Cas said quietly, before he laughed softly.

Oh God. Was Cas waiting by the phone for him? Jesus. Why was that so cute that it made Dean’s chest ache?

“My witty humor just so good that you were waiting for more?” Dean said, automatically switching to teasing.

“Something like that,” Cas replied, and Dean could almost feel his smile through the phone.

“I um- I have absolutely no idea how to ice skate, by the way,” Dean admitted, reaching up to snap an icicle off the roof just to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve never ice skated before?” Cas asked, shock bouncing down the phone.

“Nope, never.”

“I’ll teach you,” Cas said earnestly.

“Only if you promise not to let me fall on my ass,” Dean said with a laugh.

“I promise I won’t take my hands off of you,” Cas replied instantly, before the weight of his words seemed to settle in the air. Dean swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting on itself at the thought of Cas’ hands lingering on him.

“And what if I can’t keep my hands to myself?” Dean said, words raw and yet filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.

“Is that a promise, Dean?” Cas asked, voice slipping an octave lower; sending a thrill down Dean’s spine.

“God, yes,” Dean found himself saying, words ripped from his throat as he was overcome with the urge to grab Cas right now and kiss him. “Swear to God, if you don’t bring mistletoe-”

Cas laughed and the sound made Dean’s chest feel tight. “As long as you don’t leave me standing underneath it alone again.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean said. Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his hand and a text from Sam flickered across the screen. Time to get back to work. “Listen, Cas, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“7 o’clock, Dean. Don’t you dare be late,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean replied, before handing up; heart racing from the call and his hands sweaty just from flirting with Cas again.

As he made his way back to the room, his eyes flickered to an oak tree near the motel; a clump of mistletoe hanging from one of the branches. Reaching up, Dean snagged a few pieces, smiling to himself as he slipped them into his pocket. Just a little bit of extra insurance to make sure he got that kiss with Cas tomorrow.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #christmas #long post

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

“Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky.

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized.

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice.

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best.

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy.

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion.

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam.

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients.

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind.

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead.

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh.

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response.

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best.

Friends.

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics. “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter.

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all.

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders.

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality.

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed.

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well.

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’.

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix.

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway.

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears.

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again.

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle.

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm.

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist.

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer.

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut.

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table.

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him.

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection.

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed.

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass.

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed.

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott.

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves.

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension.

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug.

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve.

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful.

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common.

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case.

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in.

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister.

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence.

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting.

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family.

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back.

The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman.

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle.

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings.

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up.

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart.

“Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.”

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded.

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection.

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it.

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him.

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime.

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off.

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness.

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged.

CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting.

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through.

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey -

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel.

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.

Steve,

Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper.

This will have to do.

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man.

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you.

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache.

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid.

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry.

You deserve to live, Steve.

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living.

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.

With as much love in me,

The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.

Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two.

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode.

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting.

The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry.

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone.

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White.

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter.

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her.

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father.

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well.

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?”

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat.

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you.

“Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table.

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more.

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude.

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day.

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently.

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night.

Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves.

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look.

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda.

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally.

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black.

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue.

That’s all that matters.

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all.

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra.

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to.

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems.

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself.

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again.

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister.

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.”

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.”

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity.

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door.

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back.

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.”

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind.

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed.

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road.

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece.

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more.

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done.

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield.

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth.

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you.

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh.

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night.

After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something.

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile.

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday.

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints.

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed.

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis.

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it. “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either.

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again.

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday.

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real.

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks. “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always.

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

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dollfaced-erin · 3 years

Text

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

A/n: and i thought this was gonna be a short chapter. There was lots more I wanted to include, but it might bore you guys from the looooong story!! (s if it wasn’t already long in the first place.)

CHAPTER FOUR

The game was set up, and both players stood at their point. Clutching the cue stick tightly in her hand, Sebastian briefly explained the rules to the new girl. She knew the main basics of the game, but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to beat Sebastian. Not while he was looking as smug as he was now.

It was sure who had the most experience here.

Being a good sport, Sebastian gave her the first turn to hit the cue ball. The said female scattered all the balls across the board. Turns began exchanging between the two competitors, and the spectators by the side were literally on their toes.

“What’s got Sebastian so worked up all a sudden?” Abigail said, whispering into Sam’s ear. The blonde shrugged, speechless towards Sebastian’s sudden change from his signature cold and reserved to jealous and competitive.

“Is it because (Y/n) came and everyone liked her?” Sam asked, pulling out one of the most logical reasons he could find. Abigail shook her head, “I don’t think he’ll be affected by that. Was it something between Robin or Maru, perhaps?”

Sam really had no idea. “I really have no idea, but that actually makes sense, or he just wants to show off his moves,” he whispered again. “But do you remember how Sebastian started playing pool?” he asked the dyed- haired girl.

“Quite long ago, actually. It was when we were still kids. Probably when the old farm had the owner before (Y/n). You remember the old man had...a relative was it? And he taught us how to play pool with...that...girl,” Abigail trailed off, her thoughts and memories muddled up in her mind.

“He really liked to play pool after being taught. Especially when he played around with the girl. Kept playing even though she already left till he became the him now,”

“Really? I don’t really remember, but it must’ve that far away. I think the time you’re talking about was when I just moved here,” Sam replied. “Little girl, you said?” he asked her once more.

“Hm..it seems vague to me, but it feels like a dream too.”

The players ignored the topic the two were discussing, currently trying to focus on their game of pool. But apparently the topic was quite sensitive to Sebastian, making him accidentally hit cue ball too hard, resulting the white ball going off the board and smacking (Y/n) square in her right collarbone.

“Ah!” the girl yelped in pain, her features morphing into one of shock. Sebastian was shocked with what happened and immediately placed the cue stick down, rushing over to the girl he accidentally injured.

The two gasped at the commotion and leapt of their seats, heading towards the girl. She was wincing slightly at the pain, but most likely from the shock.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?!” he bombarded her with questions, grabbing the arm he hit, pulling the collar of her shirt slightly to get a better look at the injury. He winced. It was starting to redden, most likely about to bruise.

The loud thump from collision of the heavy ball and the bone and the gasps from the game room raised suspicion from the others in the main hall. Even over the music, (Y/n) could grasp the number of eyes being turned in her direction.

“It’s okay! It doesn’t hurt at all!” (Y/n) assured, panicking at the crowd of friends that started to swarm her. This isn’t good. If word gets out from the others in the main hall of the Saloon, who knows what mean rumors would spread out.

“Are you su--” “Let’s take five, alright? Boy, I think I need a drink!” (Y/n) said a little too loudly and off. Abigail realized her eyes were wide and her skin was paling. Her earlier frown was stretching into a stiff smile.

As things began to settle down once more, the (h/c) girl went to the vending machine and pulled out a grape-flavored fizzy drink. Popping the lid, spun around, glancing at the main hall as she did. Less eyes have been looking at her now. She sighed and unscrewed the cap of the drink, making her way to the bright red sofa Sam previously sat on.

“Come on, guys!” Abigail called, making a face at the males’ questionable expressions, signaling that they should go on with what she had started. Abigail was a quick one to catch on, following the suit and plopping herself on the blur sofa next to (Y/n).

Resting her right arm on the plush armrest, she raised an eyebrow at the guys who hadn’t moved an inch. Sam blinked before letting out a boisterous laugh, heading over to the girls, sitting next to Abigail, the latter bouncing from the force used to sit on the sofa.

Sebastian sighed and tailed after Sam, sitting next to (Y/n), since that was literally the only empty spot left. Guilt was eating away at him, especially when he looked at the angry red mark that imprinted itself on the delicate bone.

“Sorry, Sebastian,” the girl apologized, making Sebastian raise an eyebrow at her sudden apology. “You know that I’m the one that has to apologize, right? But why’d you pretend you were okay?” he asked, leaving the two speechless.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not okay,” the girl said, making all of them crack up at her reference on a certain homework meme. “No really,” Sebastian spluttered between laughs. “Anyways, why’d you do that?”

“I realized that when you crowded me, lots of eyes started to turn. Like, I didn’t want any commotion, not when I’ve just moved here. Sounds cliche, but I am afraid that people will talk bad about you,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I’ve had enough experience with gossip and crowds.”

Sebastian behind (Y/n) wasn’t any better. He looked as if guilt was about to eat him alive. He never knew his strength would accidentally hurt her directly. It’s time he man up for the consequences.

“Anyways, how is your collarbone?” asked the dark-haired male, making the female turn over to him. “Here, let me take a look,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

(Y/n) seemed to have froze at this point. Not even daring to do so much than breathe. Earlier she had the confidence to push him off since there were so many eyes on them, but now? Now she’s just stuck in place as she finally processed that...that...he’s actually touching her!

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” he asked as he tugged the collar of the shirt, getting a closer look at the forming bruise. “Y-yeah!” (Y/n) said, averting her gaze as an embarrassed smile made its way on her lips and her face burned red hot.

Holding the shirt down with his left hand, his right lightly stroked over the internal injury, pressing it slightly with a finger. The pressure made the girl yelp in pain, and he panicked asking over and over if she was alright.

As much as Abigail was amused with all this, she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at how he could casually touch the (h/c) girl. She was friends with her first, and she wasn’t about to back off easily.

Deciding to ditch the game they were playing, they called it a night. Robin popped up ‘round the corner. “Sebby! Me and Demetrius are heading back first!” she chirped before her green eyes landed on the farmer.

“Oh! While you’re at it, maybe walk (Y/n) home! It’s dangerous at night!” she said, nodding over to (Y/n) before she left with her husband...and four speechless young adults.

“It can’t be helped, then,” Sebastian sighed. “(Y/n), Abigail, lets go,” he said, getting up as the two females followed the suit, leaving the place with Sam behind them.

It was a kind of routine, where they’ll part at the Saloon, Sebastian dropping of Abigail at Pierre’s before making his way back home up in the mountains. It used to make him have a...uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, where he’d feel all...embarrassed and flustered. But now? Now he just felt...neutral towards her. Like...he had no feelings for her anymore. He didn’t have ‘the one’ feeling anymore.

But the silence between him and (Y/n) as he walked her back...it was...content. It wasn’t awkward like he initially thought it was. Scratch it. He felt that this was quite nice. A quite walk in the night, no words needed between them, no awkward silence, just....peaceful. But something was bothering his mind.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he started, just as the two had parted ways with Abigail. The girl let out a hum, ensuing him to continue. “I think I’m the only one who noticed, but...when Abby and Sam started to crowd you, you seemed quite...scared,” the girl visibly tensed. “If it’s not too much, what’s up?”

(Y/n) let out a nervous laugh as they walked through the dark bus stop. “Ah, you’re quite sharp, aren’t you?” she remarked. “But...I’ve had my fair share of gossips and crowds. And maybe...they were bad experiences for me. I felt so...not pathetic, but...suffocated,” she trailed off, only to flip back to Sebastian. “I don’t mean that you guys were suffocating! I meant--”

“You meant that the atmosphere of people watching was suffocating, wasn’t it?” he finished for her, making her look down and nod in agreement. The light of the farmhouse began to enter their vision.

As the two climbed the porch of the house, Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder once more. “Before I go back, I want to see the bruise once more. Is that okay?” he asked, and the girl nodded.

The two entered the home, and it was a whole lot tidier than the last time Sebastian stepped into the wooden structure. Unlike the last time, it was cold and dusty, but now, it was bright and warm. Almost inviting. For a person who lives in the basement, he wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

(Y/n) shrugged of the jacket and sat on the chair located in the middle of the room, tucked next to a dining table. Sebastian took his eyes off his surroundings and approached the (h/c) girl. Like before, he nudged the collar of the shirt off of her shoulder to get a better look. “I’ll get some ointment for you tomorrow, (Y/n). Sorry again,” he said.

“You don’t need to, Sebby,” she said before she shut her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. That was really rude of me. Anyways, this is a pinch unlike the monsters in the caves!” she laughed off, waving her hand.

That’s when Sebastian saw a faint scarred line dragged around the tip of her shoulder to her back, concealed by her clothing. He stepped forward, grabbing her shoulder once more. An old scar.

“Where’d you get this, (Y/n)?” he said, referring to the scar that imbedded itself into her joint. He really wasn’t one to go on about something small. So what if she had scars here and there? It couldn’t matter to him. She could’ve been injured a while back, right?

But this...was something he had seen before. And it was in his nightmare. Even before she moved here. But if he remembered right, then the girl in his dream...

“I...I got it when I was a kid. Long time ago really. Doctor said it should go away soon,” she said, a bright smile on her face. But that didn’t satisfy Sebastian. “I said, where did you get this, (Y/n)?” he said, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly.

(Y/n) trembled in fear at his sudden change of attitude. Panic swirled in her chest. He wasn’t like this. This was so rare of him. “I...I was in an accident when I was younger,” she said. And to him, that was enough.

Sebastian moved (Y/n)’s bangs a little to reveal a jagged line from the hairline and led on into a thin straight line. He knew it. But it couldn’t be the same person in his dream. The girl in his dream died. And he never knew her name or anything.

“Sorry for overstepping, (Y/n)” Sebastian said, releasing her limb, realizing how hard he grabbed her. “I’ll be on my way now,” he said as he turned around. (Y/n) thought that she might’ve triggered him, but Sebastian replied, “If you want, come over to my room tomorrow before 10. I’ll be on my way to Sam’s then,” he said before ultimately leaving.

“Night, (Y/n). Sweet dreams.”

#stardew-valley-x-reader #sdv sebastian #stardew valley #sebastian (stardew valley)#sebastian x reader #sebastianxreader #reader insert #female farmer #stardew sebastian

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americancowgirl19 · 3 years

Text

Her Soldier

Summary: Sam gets drafted for the Vietnam war a couple days after he turns 18. Right before he leaves, he meets you.

Warnings: Angst, death, fluff, small age gap (like 2/3 years),

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Vietnam Soldier Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,565

A/n: Based off the song ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks.. I swear I almost cry every time I hear this song so hopefully I can make others cry

Masterlist

The café you worked at was dead. The only customer in the whole place is the old man at the bar sipping on his coffee rereading the newspaper for the hundredth time. You didn’t mind the old man lingering around. He’s sweet and just wants to be around people instead of his empty house. So, when he asks for a refill for the dozenth time you give it to him with a small smile and begin a short conversation with him.

When he returns to looking at his newspaper you begin wiping tables down. Nobody’s sat at them since the last time you wiped them down but it gave you something to do.

As you reached the last table, the doorbell rang signaling someone coming in. You turned around to great them but the words die in your throat. The customer that had entered is a tall broad man dressed in an army uniform. He shed his hat and sets his bag down.

His eyes scan the place before falling on you. You’re taken back by the color in his eyes. They’re captivating along with the smile that spreads across his lips.

“Can I uh... Just sit anywhere?” He asks, fiddling with his cap in his hands. His question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” You nod quickly, a light blush coming to your cheeks. “Wherever you like,” You tell him. He nods to you before taking his bag and choosing a booth by the window.

You take a deep breath, thankful his back is to you. You take a moment to calm yourself knowing it’s useless. The moment you regain his attention you’ll be a stuttering mess.

You work in an old rundown café, not many attractive men come in. When they do come strolling in another waitress always snatches them before you do. Although, you don’t put up a fight seeing that you’re anxiety usually keeps you from actively approaching them. However, today you’re the only waitress.

“What, uh.. What can I get you?” You ask, thankful you didn’t stutter too much. He flashes you a smile, although you notice a been of nervousness in his posture. He shifts in his seats and gives you his order.

You bring him is water and leave him be. You wait by the bar for his food to finish cooking. You try not to stare but your gaze keeps falling on him. You watch his leg bounce under the table and how he shifts every few seconds. His head turns from looking outside to down at the table.

You felt bad for him. You knew what was going on in the world and you knew that where he was going is dangerous. You older brother had been drafted to the army. Plus, at night, you heard your parents talking to each other about all the bad stuff going on over seas.

“Order up!” The cook snaps, breaking you from your thoughts. You grab the plate and carry it to the handsome man.

“Here ya go,” You say, feeling even worse when he jumps. You give him a small smile setting the plate in front of him. “Enjoy,”

“Hey,” He says, quickly when you turn to walk away. You look at him, smiling a bit when he struggles to find his words. “Do you mind sitting with me?” He asks, shyly. “I could use someone to talk to,” He tells you, pressing his lips together. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t say no to him.

“I’m off in an hour,” You tell him. “If you have time, I know a place where we can go,”

“Perfect,” He nods, quickly.

The next hour dragged on. You refilled the old man’s coffee, you wiped the tables down, and you exchanged a couple of words with the guy in the booth. When you finally clocked out, you slipped your jacket on and walked outside with the handsome stranger.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” You introduce yourself as you lead him down the sidewalk.

“Sam,” He introduces himself, holding his hand out. You shake it, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “So, where are you taking me?”

“The pier,” You tell him. “It’s where I like to go when I need to get my head straight or if I’m feeling a little low,” You explain.

When you get to the end of the pier, you both snag your favorite bench. He sets his bag beside him and looks out into the water.

“I turned 18 a couple days ago,” He mutters, looking down at his fidgeting fingers. “Day later and I get a draft notice,”

“My brother got drafted too,” You whisper. He glances at you, a small smile on his face.

“So, did mine,” Sam says. “He got drafted about 7 months ago... We knew I would be next but when it came it just... it felt surreal,” Sam looks back at the water. “I feel like I’m living a nightmare and I won’t ever wake up,” He whispers.

You bite your lip when you hear the shakiness in his voice. Unable to help yourself, you reach over and grab his hand. He clings to it tightly. You shuffle closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry you have to go, Sam,” You whisper.

“Maybe I’ll see my brother,” He hopes optimistically. “We’re all each other has. My mom died when I was a baby and my dad was never around... It’s always just been me and him,”

“Well, when you come back, find me,” Sam turns his head to you. You lift your head off his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll still be working at that café, I’ll be real easy to find,”

“If I come back,” Sam whispers.

“When,” You correct him. “When you and your brother come back, come to the café,” You order him. “I’ll make sure you both have a free meal,” Sam smiles, relaxing on the bench.

“When I come back,” Sam whispers, releasing a slow sigh. “As soon as I got that notice... I never thought of the possibility of coming back,”

“Well, now you have to,” You tell him. “Because if you don’t, you’re gonna make me real upset,” Sam smiles, laughing a bit. “We’re friends now, Sam. You’re stuck with me and that’s just how it’s going to be,”

“Is that so?” He asks, looking at you with a half grin.

“Exactly so,” You nod. The two of you didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, you got tired of the silence and filled it with stories about your life. You told him about the school you went too only to find out that he had gone to your rival school. You talked about your parents and how they supported everything you and your brother did even when it was something beyond stupid.

You learned that the two of you were nerds but different kinds. He loves to read and had wanted to go to college to become a lawyer while you were passionate about music and were currently in your high schools marching band. You told him how you weren’t sure if you wanted to become a professional musician or a teacher, perhaps you would try to become both.

The conversation flowed easily between the two of you. When you ran out of things to say he talked. He told you about all the trouble he and his brother, Dean, used to get into together. His stories mad you laugh and cry.

The both of you sat on the pier for what seemed like hours. You had sat down together as strangers yet at this point you couldn’t imagine not being his friend. You hated that he had to go into the army because now you couldn’t spend more time with him.

Sitting next to him, hearing him laugh and talk, you knew if he were to stick around you would fall hopelessly in love with him. He’s beyond attractive but on top of that he’s sassy and so very smart and kind. You loved listening to him and you couldn’t help but wish you could take all his pain away. You wished you could take his fear away and protect him from the world but you just couldn’t. You felt useless but at least you were able to get him to relax before the army bus comes to pick up the recruits.

As the day passed on you noticed more army men coming to the area. You both knew that it meant the bus would be arriving soon. You both knew Sam would have to leave and you didn’t want him too.

“I should go wait with the others,” Sam mutters, looking at the group of soldiers gathering together. You frown but release his hand. He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. He bites his lip obviously wanting to say something but looks hesitant.

“What is it, Sam?” You ask. You’re barely able to finish your question before he’s spitting out whatever he wants to say.

“Look, I know you probably have a boyfriend, but I don’t care,” Sam shakes his head, turning toward you. “I’ve got no one to send letters to, would you mind if I sent some back here to you?”

“I was hoping you would,” You smile at him. You push yourself off of the bench and pull him into a tight hug. “I expect letters as often as you can,” Sam smiles, tightening his arms around you.

“I’m gonna need your address,” He mutters. You grin pulling away from him. Your eyes glance behind him and you instantly smile.

“I’ve got an idea, come on,” You grab his hand and yank him down the pier. He laughs, following you willingly.

“Really?” Sam asks, noticing where you’re pulling him.

“Oh, come on!” You beg him. “It’ll be fun,” You turn to him and wink. He rolls his eyes but nods. You pull him into the photo booth. He sits on the seat and steers you onto his lap when you go to sit down. He grins as you blush. “Smile,” You whisper, turning to the camera.

There’s a flash as the picture is taken. Only problem is that in the corner of your eye you notice Sam still looking at you. You turn your head to him, your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re supposed to look at the camera,” You whisper.

“I’d rather look at you,” He whispers back. You nibble at your lip, a blush painting your cheeks as another flash brightens the booth. “You’re beautiful,” He mutters.

“You just had to walk into my café when you’re about to leave didn’t you?” You pout. His hand comes up to caress your cheek just as the flash comes again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been good at timing,” Sam whispers.

“I don’t have one,” You whisper to him. He frowns his eyebrows and tilts his head. Gathering up your courage, you press your forehead against his. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Sam smiles a bit.

“I’m gonna have to take you out when I get back,” He whispers. You smile at his word choice. You close your eyes, resting your other hand on his chest as the final flash comes.

“Come back, Sam,” You whisper, your eyes opening to look into his. Sam closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Please come back, Sam,” You whisper to him.

“I’ll try,” He whispers back. You want to demand that he promises to return but you don’t. Your head moves to his shoulder as you hug him tightly. When the two of you finally slide out of the booth, you pick up the photos. You reach into your pocket and pull our a pen.

“My address,” You said writing it on a couple of them. You slip the first picture into your pocket and let him keep the other three.

“I have to go,” He whispers, seeing the bus coming to pick up the soldiers. You sigh slowly and pull him into another hug. “Thank you,” He murmurs. “For staying with me,”

“It was my pleasure,” You smile up at him. The two of you pull away. You stay still, watching him walk away. He only gets about five steps away before he stop and turns back to you. You smile widely when he come strutting back. He extends his arm and cups your cheek.

“Can I...?” He whispers and you just nod. He grins, lowering his head to yours. You lean into him as your lips press against each other lightly.

“I really wish you would have found me sooner,” You whisper. He smiles hugging you tighter than before.

“I’ll come back and I’ll take you on a date and we’ll do this the proper way,” He promises, pulling from you.

“I don’t care how we do this as long as you come back to figure it out with me,” You tell him. He clicks his heels together and gives you a salute.

“Yes, ma’am,” He winks at you. You blush smiling at him. “I’ll be back before you know it,” He promises before forcing himself to go to the back to the bus. You force yourself to smile and wave as the bus drives away with him and a dozen other soldiers on it.

His first letter came about a week later. He talked about his training and the other guys he’s bunking with. He talks about what they plan to do with his group in the future. Then he asks about you and your day. Your favorite part is when he mentions about how much he wants to come back home and go back to that pier with you.

The instant your done reading the letter, you pull out paper to write one to him. You talk about mundane things. Things that will hopefully distract him from the world he was forced into, even if it’s just for the few minutes he reads the letter.

Towards the end of your letter you tell him that you miss him. You talk about the possible dates the two of you could go on. You tell him that you look forward to him coming home.

For the next few months, the letters between you two are frequent. You learn more about each other. Every day you find yourself racing for the mailbox hoping that he had sent a letter.

“Who have you been sending letters too?” Your mom asks you one afternoon. You were going to lie and say your brother but she would know it would be a lie. While you and your brother are close you don’t get as excited for his letters as you do Sam’s.

“I met someone a couple of months ago,” You tell her. She arches an eyebrow. “He came by work before getting on the army bus.. I talked to him for a while before he had to leave. He asked me if he could send letters, he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to,”

“Oh?” She says. “And how is this man?”

“His names Sam,” A wide, effortless smile comes across your lips. “He was drafted a couple days after he turned 18,”

“He’s 18?” She asks. You slowly nod. “You’re only 16,” She states.

“So?”

“So, isn’t he a little old for you?”

“It’s only two years mom,”

“Yeah and you’re barely a junior in high school and he’s going off to a very ugly war,”

“I don’t think any war is pretty,”

“Y/n,” Your mother states.

“He has no one else, mom,” You tell her. “I’m just talking to him, giving him someone to come home too -”

“Someone to come home to? Are you two dating or something?”

“No, not yet at least...” You mutter. She sighs, rubbing her face.

“You barely know him,” She tells you.

“We’re learning about each other, what��s the big deal?” You ask. “Nothing bad is going to happen,”

“He’s going to war, Y/n... He might not come back,”

“He will,” You snap. “And when he does, I’m going to be there for him.”

“You’re only 16, Y/n... You’re too young to be waiting for a soldier to come home, you’re too young to be worrying about stuff like that,” She tells you.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m too young, I’m waiting for him and I’m going to worry about him no matter what you say or what you think. Sam, needs someone and I’m gonna be that person,” You state before going up to your room.

While that’s the first argument over Sam, it’s not the last. Neither of your parents liked the fact that you were mailing and receiving letters. You were too young. You didn’t understand the world. You need to focus on your future. You heard all that and more.

Word spread and your entire family soon knew about Sam. None of them were on your side but you didn’t care. You still looked forward to hearing him from him and you didn’t let anyone stop you from replying.

The closer time got to him being shipped over seas, the darker the letters became. Sam was scared. He’s terrified and it showed in his letters. He spoke on and on about the fears of war. He talks about how he would pray to be sent back home, back to you instead.

He tells you about how he lays in bed, staring at the photos of you two, and imagine life back home with you. He imagines holding you, kissing you, and falling in love with you.

You reread the letter a hundred times, a shit eating grin on your face. He was practically confessing to you about falling in love and you couldn’t help but to reciprocate the feelings.

When you went to reply to him, you couldn’t find the right words. You wanted to give him something to look forward to. You wanted to give him a little ray of sunlight in the darkness surrounding him.

When you finally started to write, you couldn’t stop. You made sure that he would have no doubt that you felt the same way, if not more, for him. You promised him that you would be waiting for him to come home to you and that when he did, you’d be all his.

You knew your parents thought you were crazy for falling in love with someone you only met once and talked to through letters. Did you care? No. You fell for Sam, you fell hard.

You found yourself laying in your bed at night, staring at the one picture you have of him. The picture of you staring at the came, a wide smile on your face, while he’s staring at you, a gentle grin on his. You didn’t want to read too into things but you wondered if you believed in love at first sight. Every time you thought about it, you’d smile a little wider.

Eventually another letter from Sam came. It was the last letter he wrote before being shipped over seas. By the time it reaching your house, you knew he was no longer in the U.S. He told you not to worry, he told you he might not be able to write for a while. He told you he loved you and he’d do anything to come back.

You wrote back to him, begging him to be safe. You promised you’d still wait for him. You told him that you’d be here to welcome him back to America. You told him you loved him.

Even though you looked for his letters every day, they came sporadically. He stayed true to his word and wrote whenever he could, it just wasn’t often. He didn’t go into details about the war but you knew it was horrible. Even after being over there for almost a year, he was still scared and wanted to come home. You didn’t blame him, you wanted him home too.

He wrote about how his platoon came across another one. You smile as you read about the fact that he and his brother were reunited. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you read his own words of relief over the fact that his brother’s still alive.

Towards the end he talks about how when it gets rough, he thinks back to the day the two of you sat at the pier. He explains how he closes his eyes and imagines your smile. He yearns for another kiss, another hug. He wishes he could just be with you.

You reply to him and assure him that his wishes are the same as yours. You wish for him to come home safe. You promise that even though it’s been over a year since you last saw him, you still love him and that you’re still waiting for him. You promise to wait forever as long as he returns to you.

You tell him about how that day at the pier has become your favorite. You promise to recreate that day with him when he returns only you make sure he knows that you won’t let him leave next time.

After you sent the letter, you wait for his reply. A few weeks pass then a month with no word from him. You try not to worry because it’s not the longest he’s gone without sending word. You know how hard it is for him over there. Even though he hasn’t sent you a letter, you continue to send some to him. You pray every night that when you wake up there will be a letter from him.

“Hey, Y/n, are you alright?” Your best friend asks. “You seem a little distracted?”

You were. You were completely distracted. It’s Friday night, you’re in your marching band uniform at the football game. You love football games and you’re usually the most pumped in the bad. Only tonight you’re quiet. It’s been three months since you last hard from Sam.

“I’m fine,” You promise her. “I just haven’t been getting sleep lately,”

Your friend accepts your answer and doesn’t force you to explain or talk. You’re thankful. You stand with the others and slip out the picture of Sam. You keep the picture close to your chest. You completely ignore yourself and just focus on Sam. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to see that smile in real life. What you wouldn’t give to simply hold his hand, to hear his laugh and be beside him.

When it got closer to kick off, a prayer was said before the band was instructed to play the national anthem. When the last note was ended, a man came over the speakers again. Everyone in the sands practically froze.

“Folks, would you bow your heads,” The man spoke to the crowd. “For a list of local Vietnam dead,”

This isn’t the first time the schools done this. It’s their way to honor the lives lost. Every time they do it, you feel like you’re going to be sick. Your heart races in your chest. You feel like you’re going to pass out as he goes down the list.

“... Benny Lafitte... Sam Winchester... Adam Milligan...” He continues to read off the list but you don’t listen. All the sound around you just dies.

Sam Winchester

Before you know it, your pushing through the crowd and hiding under the bleachers. Nobody gives pays any attention to you. You’re ignored but you couldn’t care less.

You collapse to your knees and wrap your arms around yourself. You’re trying so hard to be quiet but a sob escapes your lips. You want to scream, you want to punch at the ground, you want to just lose yourself in your grief.

All you can think about is his dorky smile as he gives you a salute before walking on the bus. All you can think about is how you should have begged him to stay with you.

“I’ll be back before you know it,”

His words repeat in your head which only causes you to cry even harder. You rock slowly on the grass. You want to disappear, you want to home and cry yourself to sleep.

Slowly, you pull the picture that’s clutched to your chest back. You sniffle, your eyes glued on Sam. You bring the picture to your lips and kiss him softly. You leave the picture against your lips, your eyes shut tightly as tears continue to seep through them.

“Sammy...” You whimper. “Oh, my Sammy,” You cry, curling into yourself again. “I love you so much,”

Bonas

You’re working at the café. You refilling the old mans coffee and preparing to wipe down tables. You force a smile at the old man before walking away from him. The doorbell rings when you grab a rag.

“Go ahead and sit -” Your words die in your throat when you see who’s standing at the door. You’ve never met this man but you know exactly who it is.

“Uh, hi,” He says, slowly walking up to you. “I’m Dean,”

“I know,” You whisper, offering a small smile. You hated it but seeing him brought tears to your eyes. It’s been six months since Sam was read off the fallen soldiers list. You were still struggling with the fact that he’s no longer coming home.

“Sammy talked about you all the time, couldn’t get him to shut up,” Dean laughs a bit. You bite your lip knowing this was hard for him. “You meant a lot to him,”

“He meant a lot to me,” You whisper, a tear falling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring him home to you,” Dean chokes up. “God he wanted to come home to you,” Your feet move before you realize that you’re walking up to him. The two of you instantly bring the other into a tight hug. When you pull away, he reaches into his pocket and gives you a warn and torn letter. “He asked me to give this to you,” You’re breath hitches when you see red smears on the paper.

“Th-thank you,” You whimper.

“Yeah...” He mutters before backing away. His movement snaps you out of your daze.

“Hey, Dean?” He hums, wiping his eyes. “Don’t be a stranger,” You smile at him. “I know you don’t know me but you’re family... If you ever need anything, I’ll be around,” Dean smiles and slowly nods.

“I’ll see you,” He whispers before walking out of the café.

The instant he’s gone, you walk straight to the bathroom. You cry, barely holding in the sobs. A few minutes later, you pull yourself together long enough to look at the letter.

You can barely read the shaky hand writing but his words bring fresh tears to his eyes. You could tell that he had written this the day before he died. He talked about how scared he was, how he didn’t know if he’d be able to come home. He promised he would do everything in his power to be with you but in case he couldn’t he wanted you to know just how much he loved you. He promised that if tomorrow is to be his last day then his final thoughts will be of the two of you sitting at the pier.

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