#i got a little too sneezy recording this one and couldn’t think of words towards the wnd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whoareurl · 5 years

Note

It’s the Bucky anon, thanks so much for responding! As for a prompt, what about a sick, sneezy, post winter soldier Bucky attempting to hide the fact that he’s sick from Steve while still recovering from an injury because Steve is already so worried about him?

so, this kinda got away from me and is more general whump than snzfic BUT i hope you like it anyway kind anon!!

The mission had been rough on everyone and was definitely in the top five for Most Injuries Sustained at One Time (MISOT). Natasha was nursing a broken ankle, Clint sleeping his way through a pretty bad concussion, and Steve had taken one hell of a beating. Given how quickly Steve healed these days, Bucky was probably unnecessarily concerned. Steve certainly seemed to think so.

“For fucks sake, Buck!” He finally snapped after a long two days of the two of them stubbornly trying to take care of each other without a regard for their own aches and pains. “I’m fine! And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not the one with broken bones!”

Oh, yeah. And Bucky had a broken wrist and three cracked ribs.

Bucky could practically feel Stark and Rhodey tense from where they were sitting at the breakfast bar and he almost wanted to roll his eyes. Sure, he’s been jumpy and unpredictable throughout his recovery. But he’s also known Steve since they were children and the little punk is precisely as loud and stubborn as he’s ever been. It would take a lot more than a snappy Steve to trigger anything serious for Bucky.

“I’ve had worse,” Bucky said with an almost fond roll of his eyes. The movement sparks a jolt of pain in his head but he ignores it without much trouble. He’d been thoroughly trained in that regard.

“So have I,” Steve bit back, looking for all the world like the skinny little shit who got his ass handed to him on the regular in the 1930s.

Bucky swallowed a laugh. “Yeah, I remember when Mrs Johnson’s boys gave you a kicking behind Delmar’s.”

Despite his show of righteous indignation, Steve’s cheeks dusted pink at the memory. “It wasn’t that bad,” he grumbled.

“They broke two of your ribs. You could’ve died.”

“I had ‘em o-”

“On the ropes, I know,” Bucky finished for him, chuckling quietly. The laughter left an uncomfortable, aching feeling in his chest. He figured it was from his ribs.

And that was how Bucky ended up with 240lbs of pouting supersoldier sprawled across him on the couch, apparently indicating that he was done with this conversation and if Bucky was going to be difficult then he could damn well be a half-decent pillow as well. Behind him, Bucky felt the tension between their two guests dissolve.

“Just worried about you,” Steve admitted quietly from where his head was pillowed on Bucky’s thigh. Bucky dropped his metal hand into Steve’s hair without really deciding to do so.

“I know.”

Over the coming days, the tight pain in Bucky’s chest revealed itself not to have been caused by his injuries. Rather, if the fierce cough and sweltering fever were anything to go by, it was a sign of what promised to be a thoroughly miserable cold. It certainly didn’t help that every cough and sneeze set back the healing on his ribs. No, that was just an unwelcome bonus.

Steve, typically, was as fussy and impossible as he had always been and, honestly, Bucky found it kind of comforting. Sure, Steve’s incessant questions about how he was feeling weren’t exactly working wonders for his headache but Bucky couldn’t deny the bubble of warmth in his chest he felt knowing how much Steve loved him.

Idiot.

Steve, despite his concern for Bucky, had become desperately antsy after just one day of lounging on the couch while he healed and, at his boyfriend’s request, nay, insistence, had resumed his regular workout routine because “your pent up energy is a pain in my ass, Stevie.”

“Alright, Barnes?” Clint asked, dropping down onto the couch beside him.

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the way the movement jostled his aching ribs. And, because he’s unlucky and apparently God hates him, his tiny gasp of pain sent him into a punishing coughing fit.

“Christ,” he rasped when it was finally over, metal hand shifting from his mouth to his chest as the pain started to settle down.

“Well, you certainly sound like shit,” Clint said cheerily. Bucky shot him a glare. “You told Steve yet?”

Bucky glared harder. “I swear, Barton, if you-”

Clint raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, man, relax. I have zero desire to get involved in your domestic disputes. I just wanna make sure I don’t miss the show.”

Bucky slapped him with a nearby cushion and turned to stifle a sneeze into his shoulder. Well, a sneeze or six. Clint snagged the box of quickly depleting tissues off the table and tossed them into Bucky’s lap with an air of practiced nonchalance. Despite literal years of stealth training, Bucky couldn’t hold in the last sneeze and it burst out with a rough hznkchh! Well, this was definitely shaping up to be one of his least favourite colds of all time.

“Gesundheit,” Clint mumbled around a mouthful of pringles.

“Thangks,” Bucky muttered, letting out a stuffy breath through his mouth. God, his head was hammering. He gave his nose a quick, harsh blow and stood. “Gonna take a shower.”

“Good call. You stink.”

“Fuck you, Barton.”

The shower felt sinfully good and the hot water pounding against his back eased the aching, bone-deep pain in his left shoulder. His new vibranium arm was much lighter and far more comfortable than the one Hydra had given him but carrying the weight of a metal limb for on and off seventy years had certainly done a number on his nerves. The pain was far from constant but it tended to come back with a vengeance when he was sick. Like now.

There was also the small issue of the steam loosening the congestion in his sinuses to the point where he could barely finish rubbing shampoo into his hair before he was sneezing forcefully towards the ground, metal arm braced against the wall.

“Hrrushch! ih-heh’hrkrushhh!”

The ache which had been steadily building behind his eyeballs all day did, mercifully, start to fade as he…now what was the technical term? Sneezed out his fucking brain.

“Jesus,” he grumbled after what felt like the fiftieth sneeze. If this was the way things were going to be, he certainly wasn’t going to bother with conditioner.

(Bucky liked to pretend, especially around Steve, that he only cared this much about his hair and personal care because it had been denied to him for so long. It was a game which proved to be unfailingly hilarious because Steve could become almost apoplectic with disbelief at the “bold-faced lies, James Buchanan! What would your ma think, God rest her soul?”

Yes, it was definitely Bucky’s favourite game.)

When he stepped out of the shower, Bucky physically recoiled from the blast of cold air that washed over his whole body. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was wrapped in two giant fluffy towels, tousled hair caught up untidily in one of Nat’s hair claws. It wasn’t perfect or particularly flattering but at least he didn’t run the risk of dislodging it with another embarrassingly forceful sneezing fit.

Without warning, Bucky felt an ache in his chest. He wanted his Ma, so badly it hurt. It had been a long time since he’d thought about her and for that he felt guilty. She’d probably received a telegram when he fell from that stupid train, apologising for the fact that she’d never be able to bury her son’s body. Bucky wondered if she’d been able to move on without his body to serve as closure or if maybe she’d always held out hope that he’d come back to her.

Bucky stared fiercely at the rug in front of the TV, trying not to think about how his Ma felt when they told her Steve was dead too.

My boys, she used to say, all grown up.

In a way, she and Sarah Rogers had been so alike. He and Steve had been lucky enough to grow up with two mothers, two families, two homes. Bucky had no doubt that she’d have mourned Steve too.

For a moment, a brief, horrible moment, he hated Steve for his choice, for not thinking about all the people he was leaving behind. And maybe there had been no other choice, maybe it was really the only way to save all those people, but Bucky had heard the recordings and nobody says ‘this is my choice’ if there really is no other way. But Bucky thought he understood how Steve felt - like Hydra was too big to take on alone, like this might bring them down for good, like he had nobody left to go home to - and he didn’t have Bucky to tell him not to be so goddamn stupid.

Bucky didn’t realise he was sobbing but he was vaguely aware, at least enough to know that it wasn’t pretty. He’d always been an ugly crier. Of the two of them, Steve had always suffered more gracefully, maybe because he’d had more practice. His chest ached with pain and congestion and awful, burning heartache. More than anything else in the world, Bucky wanted to go home. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was in the Rogers’s tiny apartment in Brooklyn Heights with Steve sleeping fitfully against his side as Sarah Rogers arrived home from a late shift at the hospital. He’d pretend to be asleep while Sarah sighed and tucked the blankets tightly around them and gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

Bucky wrapped his arms across his middle, doubling over with a fit of rough coughs. He gave a pained whimper and made no attempt to sit up. His shoulder ached, his back ached, his heart ached and Bucky just wanted to go home.

“Hey, shhh, I’ve gotcha,” said a voice.

“Ma,” Bucky whispered, only realising his mistake when he heard the most pitiful pained sound he’d ever heard.

“Oh god, Buck,” Steve choked, pulling Bucky roughly into his arms. “I- I’m sorry.”

Bucky buried his face in Steve’s neck, wincing at the way his chest twinged with pain again. Later, he couldn’t say why he said it - maybe it was the way Steve’s fingers in his hair made him feel like soft putty - but the words came spilling out of his mouth like a man under a spell.

“M’real sick, Stevie. Don’t want you to get sick.”

Steve’s fingers stilled briefly. “I won’t get sick, Buck,” he said softly but Bucky was too busy trying weakly to push him away.

“No,” Bucky muttered dumbly.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, pulling him close. His hold was so strong and steady that Bucky couldn’t help but melt into him. “S’okay Buck. I’m gonna take care of you. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

When Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, it felt like the world had switched off. All he could feel was Steve’s body pressed tight against his own, the soft, gentle movements of Steve’s fingernails scraping along the base of his scalp.

“Home,” he mumbled and all he could hope was that Steve understood. This was home. With Steve.

Like always.

#acefic #acefic stucky #sorry about the weird unreadable post i fixed it

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lunarsaturn88 · 6 years

Text

When Were We Ever Friends

christinalibertymikaelson said:

Hi! Can I have prompt 5. “I thought we were friends.” with Gabriel x reader, if that's okay?

Warnings: Angst, Season 5 Episode 8 Spoilers, some fluff, protective Sam, protective Dean

Words: 1725

Pairing: Gabriel x Sister!Winchester!Reader

A/N: Thank you christinalibertymikaelson for requesting this one. I hope that you like this one. Enjoy guys.

Dean rummaged inside of the trunk of the car trying to get the gear that he needed as you stood next to him.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice rang out from the car.

“What?”

“That, uh, feels really uncomfortable.”

Dean shuts the trunk.

“Ow. You sure this is gonna work?”

“No, but I have no other ideas.” He said as he walked with you to the front of the car. “All right, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!”

“Should I honk?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at what Sam said. Granted you knew Sam was a car at that moment, but he didn’t need to act like one.

The trickster appeared out of nowhere. “Wow. Sam. Get a load of the rims on you.”

“Eat me.” Sam bit out in anger.

“Okay, boys. Ready to go quietly?” The trickster asked.

You swallowed the lump in your throat not knowing what the trickster really wanted from your brothers and it really bothered you deeply.

“Whoa whoa whoa, not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs.” Dean ordered the Trickster, he wasn’t about to have his baby brother as a car forever. He wanted the normal Sam back and that was the one thing that you could agree on. You missed your brother.

“What's the difference? Satan's going to ride his ass one way or another.”

Dean looked at him with narrowed eyes.

You crossed your arms.

The trickster rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.

The kitt lights go off on the car and Sam gets out of the car slowly thankful that he was back to his normal self.

“Happy?”

“Tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?” You questioned looking at him with a wondering look. You had seen him before. You knew that. You could feel it pulling at your heartstrings, you were just now trying to place it now.

“I am the Trickster.”

“Or maybe you're not.”

Sam held up a flaming cigarette lighter and tossed it down onto the ground.

A ring of fire springed around the trickster.

“Maybe you've always been an angel.”

The trickster looks at them incredulous and then begins to laugh. “A what? Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?”

“I'll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake.”

The Trickster laughs and then stops. A burst of static and he returned you to reality.

You stood with your brothers as you stared at Gabriel who was surrounded by holy oil and fire in the warehouse that he had now brought you to. Tears were in your eyes falling down onto your cheeks rather freely. You had met Gabriel on several occasions and he had been so kind to you and that was way before your brothers had been gotten twisted up into Gabriel’s trickster ways.

Gabriel felt the guilt rise in his chest knowing that he had hurt you. He had never meant to hurt you. Not like this, never like this. “I thought we were friends.” Gabriel said looking at you rather hurt that you had allowed your brothers to trap him in holy fire.

“When were we ever friends?” You said as your voice cracked. If it was one thing that you hated, you hated being lied to, and Gabriel had lied to you, more than once. You felt a strong arm wrap around you and you moved closer to the source knowing that it was your brother Sam due to the length of his arm.

Gabriel felt his heart break inside of his chest when he saw the three of you standing there. He knew he had hurt you, but anger boiled inside of his chest. He slowly clapped his hands together. “Well played, boys and girl.Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?”

“Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass.” Dean said narrowing his eyes at Gabriel.

“Where'd I screw up?”

“You didn't. Nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did.” Sam said looking at Gabriel as he rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon.”

“Meaning?” Gabriel questioned looking at the three of you.

You slowly moved away from your brother. “Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family.” You said letting out a scoff as a few more tears slid down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe that you had trusted him.

“So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?” Sam questioned, hating the fact that this angel had made you cry.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” Gabriel said revealing his true identity to the three of you.

“Gabriel? The archangel?”

“Guilty.”

“Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?” Dean questioned as he pulled you close to him seeing the anger boiling inside of you. If it was one thing that he knew… it was that you had drawn the short end of the stick. You had the anger of both your brothers, which meant you were a little firecracker.

“My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it all up.”

“What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?” Dean questioned as he kept his hold on you.

“Daddy doesn't say anything about anything.”

“Then what happened? Why'd you ditch?” Sam questioned crossing his arms.

“Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles.”

“Shut your cakehole. You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again.”

“Then help us stop it.” You snapped your lips curling in anger.

“It can't be stopped.” Gabriel said snapping his eyes towards you.

“You wanna see the end of the world?” Dean snarled as his kept a hold of you, you practically could feel the anger wafting off of him.

“I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over.”

“It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug.”

Gabriel laughed. “You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned in confusion.

“You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.”

“What the hell are you saying?” You asked your eyes going wide before looking at your brothers. Were they going to have to fight one another and kill one another if Lucifer and Michael got into Sam and Dean as their vessels?

“Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always.”

Sam and Dean looked down and then to each other and then to you.

“No. That's not gonna happen.” Dean said finally answering.

“I'm sorry. But it is.” Gabriel let out a sigh. “Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be.”

“That’s the way it gots to be huh? Two brothers fighting one another? Till the end? That was the only reason why you took interest in us in the first place?” You said your voice cracking.

Gabriel swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t reply. He couldn’t. You also could be used as vessel. Lucifer’s vessel if Sam said no. “So. Boys and girl. Now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

“Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.” Dean demanded from Gabriel.

“Oh am I.” Gabriel said.

“Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.” Dean threatened.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and Castiel appeared.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean questioned your friend.

“I'm fine. Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel said looking right dead at his own brother.

“Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful.”

Castiel glared at him.

“Okay, we're out of here. Come on, Sam, Y/N.” Dean turned and began to walk away.

You began to walk ahead with your lips pursed together in a thin line.

“Uh. Okay. Guys?”

Sam follows you and Dean towards the exit.

“So, so what? Huh?”

Castiel follows the three of you.

“You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?”

Dean stopped that the door and you almost ran right into him. Thankfully you were able to stop yourself from running into him. He turned and looked at Gabriel. “No. We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.” Dean pulled the fire alarm.

Gabriel looks up and sprinklers go off.

“Don't say I never did anything for you.”

Gabriel glares at you.

The three of you leave and Castiel soon follows you leaving a soaked Gabriel.

You knew that Gabriel was never your friend. He had only followed you because of who your family was. That was the only thing that had mattered to him. You didn’t matter to him. You never did.

@christinalibertymikaelson @faegal04 @oneshoeshort @crazysocklovingfangirl @jensenjefferyjarednormanmisha @sofreddie @goldenolaf25 @sammy-moo @katresticc @sandlee44 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @joyslilangel @hexparker @coralturtlenut @ellen-reincarnated1967 @freckly-sunshine

#Gabriel #Gabriel/Reader #Castiel #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Winchester!Reader #Supernatural #writing prompts

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