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awhitehead17 · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020: Day 15 - Into the unknown

Prompt: Possession

Summary: When Kon comes to the Tower for the weekend, they instantly know something isn’t right with him. After checking up on him, they soon find that the situation is worse than they imagined

A/N: As a warning there is a bit of violence in this story. This consists of strangulation and head bashing, nothing too graphic however, I just want to warn people in case!

Enjoy! :D

By some coincidence they had all gathered into the media room over the course of the afternoon. It was only the start of the weekend but not everyone had actually arrived at the Tower yet.

Tim had been the first one to arrive from Gotham, while he could have easily spent time in his room he choose to chill in the media room instead and did some work on his laptop to pass the time.

Cassie had joined him an hour later, followed by Bart not long after. Tim had continued on with his work while the other two watched a film. It wasn’t until Kon comes strolling into the room that he finally breaks away from his computer.

The half Kryptonian enters the room with his face scrunched up in pain and a hand on his head. He walks over and flops down onto the opposite end of the couch with a groan.

“What’s up Kon?” Bart asks eyeing him up with a frown.

Kon groans again. “My heads killing me, has been all day. No matter what pain killers I take the headache won’t shift.”

Tim shares a concerned look with the other two. He glances at Kon, “Have you had enough sleep recently? Enough food and water? Been up against any freaky crop plants in Smallville this week?”

Kon shakes his head in denial. “I’ve been fine all week until this morning. School was hell to get through today.”

“Well dinner is soon, once you’ve eaten perhaps call it an early night. You might feel better tomorrow morning after some rest.”

The Kryptonian sighs and shrugs, “Perhaps, yeah? We’ll see.”

Dinner comes by half an hour later and they all migrate to the kitchen to eat. Despite how lovely the food was, Kon had barely made a dent in his food which results in everyone giving him concerned looks.

Once the meal was over, Kon retires to his room while Tim, Cassie and Bart clear up.

“Something’s not right with him.” Cassie stats putting the plates away.

“Do you think he’s been attacked in the week and isn’t telling us?” Bart guesses as he dries off the pans.

Tim hums from his position at the sink. “I have no idea. Once we’re done here I’ll go and check on him, he may talk when it’s just one of us with him.”

As Tim said he would, he goes to Kon’s bedroom after finishing up in the kitchen. He taps on the door lightly and lets himself inside the room.

“Hey Kon, I’ve come to check on you….” Tim’s sentence trails off when he stumbles onto a scene he hadn’t been expecting.

Kon was in his room, on the floor curled up with his hands clenched in his hair. His whole posture was shaking and he was muttering something underneath his breath.

“Kon?” Tim whispers with uncertainty. While he desperately wanted to go comfort his best friend something else felt off which stopped Tim rushing to his side. “Conner?”

In that moment he’s glad he hadn’t gone ahead rushed to Kon’s side because the moment the meta looked up, it was clear that nothing was right. Kon’s head snaps up to look at him and Tim instantly sees the bright red glow of his eyes.

Tim barely gets an “oh shit” out before he was being body slammed by his best friend. The force carries him backwards and out into the hallway, Tim’s back slams against the far wall and he crumples to the ground hissing in pain. He had no armour on, meaning there was nothing to help soften the impact of the concrete wall when he slammed into it.

He didn’t have time to recover however because Kon’s suddenly standing before him and clamping a hand around his neck, lifting him up off the ground. Tim scrambles at the hold, trying to push it off him because it was hard to breathe, he knows if Kon applies anymore pressure then his windpipe will break.

“Kon… please… snap… snap out of it…” he wheezes out. His best friend wasn’t there though, only whatever was now possessing him. His eyes were still burning bright red and Tim wonders if Kon (not-Kon) will kill him by heat vision.

Black spots were now dancing in his vision and Tim was seriously struggling to breathe. He weakly pushes at Kon’s unrelenting grip, trying to get free.

“Conner!”

The scream startles him and then suddenly Kon’s hand disappeared from his neck. Tim falls to the ground and sucks in precious air through his abused neck. He wildly looks around to find Cassie and Kon engaged in some kind of spar. The two meta’s and their super-strength going against one another in the tiny alcove of the corridor. They bounce off the walls, the floor and even the ceiling when their flight abilities kick in.

While Cassie handles Kon he scrambles up to his feet and starts rushing down the corridor. Kryptonite. He has Kryptonite stored in his bedroom. While he loathes the idea of using it on Kon, it’s the only thing that’ll weaken him enough for them to get the upper hand so they could work out what’s going on.

“Tim watch out!”

He barely gets a second to comprehend the warning before something collides with his back. He falls to the ground with a grunt and cries out when a heavy pressure lands on his back. Tim knows without looking that it’s Kon. He tries to buck the meta off but fails miserably as he couldn’t barely move an inch with Kon on his back.

A fist full of his hair was grabbed and his head is yanked up. He hisses with the movement and then screams when his face is smacked into the ground. Pain explodes throughout his head it becomes difficult to think. As his head is lifted up again Tim’s able to form some words that he desperately needed to share before he couldn’t.

“My room!” He shouts, hoping one of his teammates are listening. “My desk draw! In there is krypton-“

He’s cut off when his face is slammed against the floor a second time. Pain once again explodes through his head and he cries out. He’s mildly aware of a random harsh breeze of air rushing by him as his head is lifted up yet again.

It happens a third time and Tim knows he won’t be awake for much longer. The next one will either knock him unconscious, leave him extremely concussed or it’ll simply kill him.

When Kon goes to smash his head against the floor for a fourth time, Tim barely notices the room beginning to glow green. Before he could make sense of what was happening, his head collides against the ground and everything goes dark.

-----

As Tim comes to, the brightness of the room hurts his eyes, he has an extremely bad headache and his throat is sore to hell. It takes a lot longer than what it should have but he soon realises that he’s in the medical bay in the Tower.

He also eventually notices Cassie’s frowning face above him. Tim closes his eyes and groans, “What happened?”

Tim winces when he hears himself speak and the way his throat itches. That’s some damage done to his neck alright. Before Cassie could answer, Tim remembers everything and bolts straight up into a sitting position. He looks at her frantically. “Where’s Kon? What happened to him? Did you guys work it out?”

Cassie instantly pushes him back down onto the bed and keeps her hand on his shoulder. She gives him a stern look. “Don’t talk. You’re only going to hurt yourself.” Her gaze softens then. “He’s fine Tim, or will be fine at least.”

Doing the best he could to ignore the throbbing going on in his head, Tim stares at her, encouraging her to elaborate on what had happened once he was unconscious.

Cassie sighs and glances to the side, Tim follows her gaze and sees an unconscious Kon laid upon another bed. Bart was there too, he was currently looking at something on a tablet in his hands.

“Bart managed to get the kryptonite from your room and together we were able to knock Kon out. We’re still analysing things but we’re pretty sure it’s Luthor. Luthor had somehow mind controlled and possessed Kon into attacking us and considering it’s happened before it’s not a shock.” She tells him sullenly.

Tim frowns staring at his best friend’s unconscious body. Kon’s going to hate himself after this, he’s going to feel so guilty and they’re going to have to do a lot of convincing to stop Kon from isolating himself again like he did the first time.

Tim glances at Cassie with a raised eyebrow, hopefully she gets what he’s trying to convey without talking.

Finally letting him go, she runs a hand through her hair. “It’s getting looked into, various of league members are aware of what happened and the plan is keeping Kon sedated until some results appear because its unpredictable on how he’ll wake up. It’s not the best solution but it’s all we’ve got for now. He’ll be okay Tim and then we’ll be there to help him through it.”

Tim smiles sadly and reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze in support. They’ll make sure Kon is okay no matter what.

#Whumptober2020 #day 15 #possession #bit of violence #Tim Drake #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #core four #Teen Titans #injury #friendship #worry #fights #not medically correct #but that's not the point #small strangling scene #fanfiction

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har-rison-s · 5 years

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ENDGAME SPOILERS!

request: Hello sweets i hope you’re good :) Can you write a Bucky imagine with avenger reader? After coming back Bucky needs a place to stay and reader invites him to stay with her at her summer cabin by the lake and they fall in love? Tony’s cabin was amazing so i thought it would be really romantic with Buck <3

A/N: THIS IS HELLA LONG, I APOLOGISE!! I LIKE IT BUT I NEVER DO THIS!!! First time writing Bucky in an imagine request and apart from my story. I feel very responsible, haha. Hope I did the love of my life good. I still have not recovered from Endgame and I want to cry all day. I'm so emotional all the time. This and my story gives me some sort of peace, a bit of it. Hope you guys enjoy and that this meets your standarts, love! Happy reading!

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warnings: talks of death, grief, nothing else really :)

“Listen, it's really no trouble. It's been getting more lonely with every year.” You say, trying to convince the former soldier that he wouldn't be a bother at your summer place. It used to be your parents', but since they passed away years ago, it was left to you. And you'd go there in times when you felt lonely, creative or a bit broken. It was your true home. Not the small flat in DC or the team's compound, that is now in pieces.

Bucky sighs, but smiles. You even think there's a chuckle coming from him, but then again - you must have dreamt it. “Alright.” He says, nodding. “I'm just... not the easiest person to be around.”

You nod your head. “It's completely understandable to me. Trust me, I won't mind.” You say with a smile. “Taking what you've had to go through, I'm just happy to help.” You offer and Bucky nods. “So, maybe you need help with packing?”

“Oh, we're going now?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

“You got somewhere else to be?” You tease, winking, and Bucky laughs. He looks beautiful when he does. Partly because it's so rare, his smile and laugh. Makes it quite unique, which once again makes it beautiful.

“No, I haven't.” He says. “Are you ready, though?”

You shrug. “All my stuff, all my life's there, so there's really nothing more than a small bag that I can bring.” You admit and Bucky nods.

“Yeah, I don't have that much, either. Clothes and books.” He says and you nod.

“I'll... wait for you outside, then? The old, grey car. From around your time.” You give him a warm smile and Bucky chuckles again.

“Sure, sure. I won't be long.” He promises and you nod. The man walks past you to his room and you shamelessly watch as he does. He's a very interesting person, and you hope living at the cabin with him will allow you to find out more. Even if he is damaged—that doesn't mean he's any less of a person. There's still a lot to find out.

You sit in the car and it feels like hours that you do. Your mind drifts off back to Tony, to the battle. Where everyone teamed up and got revenge on the big titan who took away half of humanity. Many were lost when he did, including Peter, Bucky, Sam, Wanda and others. It hurt a lot. And there was so much anger.

Now there's even more of anger in you, but since there's so much, you only feel numb. All the pain is still there, even though you screamed and cried when you saw what condition Tony was in and what he had done. Steve, crying as well, had to hold your arms by your sides and calm you down, even though it was so much harder for him to keep calm in the moment. You knew how much Tony meant to Steve, and that was a lot. But you hurt, too. Tony was someone you looked up to, saw as an example, as an idol. He had grown into the man you knew to respect and admire. He was your motivation most of the time, motivation to keep going and working on yourself and to even do something any day, do something for yourself. Losing him—

“Where have you drifted off to?” You hear a voice that brings you out of your daydream that you see with wide eyes, the look in them lost and wandered-away. From his point of view, it looked quite eerily. Like you were scared of something, almost as if you were paralysed from fear or something else. You shake your head and look to the voice, Bucky, to your right.

“I—I was, um...” you furrow your eyebrows and look down at your hand that starts the car in a few seconds, “just thinking.” You finish your sentence. Weakly, but you do it. Something had to be said.

He nods. You turn to him, the lost look still in your eyes, and he offers you a smile. Comfort. You hum and give him a fainter smile in response, the car engine revving under your hands and feet. You clear your throat and turn the car around so that it'd be easier for you to drive out of the parking lot.

You don't know what to say to Bucky during the car ride, so at one point you fidget with the radio device. You're nervous because of your earlier drifting-off, and that you didn't know for how long you were like that, or for how long he saw you looking off. You've probably freaked him out now.

You built it in with Tony's help a long time ago, and the radio does look strange in the whole 1940s car interior, and it's almost horrid. But it's not a bother, taking that the stations work perfectly. Though it takes time to find one that plays good, or at least, bearable music.

“Are you feeling lost?” Bucky asks, his voice soft, no trace of harsh or sudden. It's like his words just slid in between the engine and the radio sounds. You turn your head to look at him quickly and blink a few times, trying to prevent yourself from blanking out.

“Yeah, um, I guess I am.” You say quietly.

“Sorry I asked.” He immediately apologises, but you shake your head.

“It's okay.” You say. “You're just curious about the impact, right?”

Bucky chuckles slowly and quietly and looks away from you, watching the unwinding road in front of you both. “Must be.” He says. “Don't want to touch any rough spots, though, doll.”

Doll. Goodness, he still uses that sweet name. Probably made the girls back in the day blush deeper than you right now. So he still has the same lexicon in his head that he did about 80 years ago.

You smile, praying for the slight shade of pink to disappear. No one's ever called you a sweet name like “doll” before. Everybody just says “baby” or “babe”, which was, yes, nice to hear, but didn't have the same effect as “doll” does.

“We all have those.” You say. “Some have them closer to the surface, some further. But we all learn how to deal with them eventually.” You state and look at Bucky before taking a turn to the left. You are nearing your summer house already, only ten to fifteen minutes to go. “We have to.”

Bucky nods. “Wise words.” He says and you chuckle.

“Wisdom's a thing of mine, as they say.” You reply, taking the compliment. “I may not be smart or intelligent like—” Tony was, you want to say, but you stop speaking at the thought of his name, “like most of our teammates, but I'm wise emotionally and in life, in general. Sometimes it really comes in handy,” you start to admit, “but with a job like mine... it mostly doesn't.”

“Don't say that.” Bucky exhales. “Now, I think, there's a new life ahead of you. Of me, of everyone.” He says. “So you can do whatever you want with it. Make you skills useful, maybe.” He tells you, turning to look at you. You only give him a smile and look back at the road.

“You're a wise man, as well, Bucky.” You tell him, patting his hand for only a second. His eyes show exhaustion, a bit of lost, a bit of loss, and a bit of dealing with how everything is. Denial? Acceptance? Not really any trace of them in his sea-blue eyes. “You'll find peace.” You say and his eyebrows rise higher at that. You just nod. “I know you will.”

“Thank you.” He replies and you smile wider. “For giving me a place to live, as well.”

“I'm doing it from the good of my heart, I promise. My pleasure.” You give him a playful grin and he chuckles.

As the two of you drive closer and closer to your cabin, you start to tell him about how and where everything is in the house and the territory around it, where the closest grocey store is, what else is there besides the cabin, what about water and electricity, how the house runs during all the seasons, etc.

Whatever Bucky had in mind the cabin looked like, what he saw when you drove up completely amazed him and took him by surprise. “Wow.” He marvels and you smile wide. Bucky immediately unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, just to see and feel that what he sees is truly there, is real. Cause after all this time, it doesn't feel like it could be real.

You stop the car and shut it off, and get out as well, trying to catch up to the wandering soldier. He immediately walks towards the small lake, more like a pond, past the house itself and the garden. You have to jog a little to reach him, but he stops at the pond and so do you. A meter or so between you two, you look at him. His eyes are big and he seems overwhelmed by what he sees.

“It's so beautiful here.” Bucky says, looking at you. You nod.

“The sunrises and sunsets are the best here. And when it rains - oh, God. It's just magic.” You say and stick your hands into your back pockets. “Let's get settled and then we can walk around so you'd... know where everything is.”

Bucky nods, but doesn't move. He's still looking at the lake, beyond it and at the forest, at the skies. He’s admiring the view that could be his forever to see. He could get used to it, and maybe he should. Even though anything might happen, a war again, for example. And this would be lost or ruined, what’s in front of him. Why am I always so dramatic?

You don't want to speak, so you just stay there, waiting. You can hear birds singing, the top leaves and branches of the trees moving against each other from the small impact of wind. No other sounds, no other people or cars. Peaceful. Just what he needs, and you as well. Though peace and quiet have never felt peaceful and soothing to you. City sounds make you sleep better, but so does fresh air.

“So, this is my bedroom. Used to be my parents', hence the size of the bed.” You say, opening a mahogany door to reveal a bedroom with a king-sized bed, a desk and a wardrobe. It has a cozy windowsill, as well. Pillows and a baby-sized mattress. Bucky nods.

“You read here?” He asks, looking at the windowsill. You shrug.

“Sometimes. I mostly paint or draw upstairs.” You reply. Bucky looks at you, surprised, and you smile. “I'll show you later.” He nods and you walk to the door that is next to your room. “And this will be your room. Used to be mine, but... I got bored of it, and my parents' room seemed more appealing to me.” You chuckle, remembering how your mom laughed at the reason for your request. “That was when they started to move out.”

Bucky can almost feel you drifting somewhere, to memories of your past, your parents. “Perfect sheets.” He says and you look at the bed that hasn’t been touched for years. There’s a picture of fish in the sea as a bed sheet and you laugh, your hands hiding your face.

“I’m sorry!” You shriek. “I always forget to take them off.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’ll give you different covers, just hold on.”

“No, there’s no rush. Fish isn't bad. I’ll probably even sleep outside since it’s nice weather outside.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re sleeping here after I change the sheets and take away any other embarrassing relics.”

“No, seriously, do you have a spare mattress or pillows, maybe blankets?”

“You’re serious.”

“I just said I am.”

“Alright, Barnes. Come with me.”

Bucky did sleep outside that night. And when you found yourself too awake because of worries about him, you took your pillows and blankets and went outside to join him.

It was a good temperature, indeed. Warm, no wind, no rain or other liquids falling from the sky, no fog. Cricket sounds an owls hooting. The moon's rays breaking through the trees and shine down on the grass. A fairy tale. Bucky lays in the green meadow between the lake and the garden, on an old mattress and pillows under him and a blanket laying over him.

He heard your footsteps and turned his head to make sure it was you. He turns back to staring at the lake when he knows it is. He smirks. “So you gave in.” Bucky says and you smile to yourself, putting the pillows and blanket down in the grass next to him.

“No, my mind was running in circles, worried about you.” You admit and sit down, Bucky turns his head to you. “And the little snippet of what mom used to tell me about wendigos living not so far from here always gives me terrible fright.”

“Wendigos?”

“You don't know?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Well, a wendigo is a creature, I could say, that was once human but since it started to eat human flesh, it turned into something else. Not human, not a dog or a wolf, not a ghost, but something between all of those.” You tell him. “So, they're like tall figures with a crooked shape that lurk in the forests and look for fresh meat. When they find some, they lure you in by imitating a voice of your friend or family member. Sometimes they can even imitate the sounds your pet makes.”

Bucky shivers. “That's some grade-A horror.” He says.

“I know.” You say. “Now I've really scared myself and want to go inside.”

Bucky laughs. “We can go, if you really want to.” He says. “Never would have thought you'd be scared of a 'scary' bed time story, considering all you've seen and fought.”

“But wendigos are real, too.” You say. “They might not be as terrifying as everything else is, but damn do I get scared. There are so many stories of people encountering them, it's terrifying.”

“Well, don't listen to them, then, if they scare you so much.” He says and you only chuckle, batting your eyelids, trying to get your mind's hallucinations out of your sight.

“Mind if I sleep with you tonight?” You ask very shyly and quietly. Bucky gives you a warm laugh that seems to last longer than any you've heard from him.

“If it's only for tonight.” Bucky says and looks over at you. You turn your head to him and smile lightly, realising what he means. He still needs alone time, he doesn't want to be emotionally squeezed up. He needs his space and that includes spending nights alone.

You share a look of knowing and understanding for a while and then you look at your own hands. “For now, I can say, that you're able to keep me on the ground.” You admit quietly. “I guess it's because you know how I feel.” You say and look back at him, though you can barely see Bucky's face in the dark. “I don't want to be alone. And I know that's all you want to be, but...”

“Yeah, I know.” He says. “We work differently but also very similarly. I completely understand you, so, for now, let's keep the sleeping-in-one-bed thing only for tonight.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod and chuckle, realising how childish you must sound by being afraid to sleep alone. “I'm sorry, I can sleep alone, it's quite... inappropriate, now that I think about it.” You cringe, pinching the bridge of your nose. You give a nervous laugh to ease the air.

“Don't worry about it.” Bucky says. “It's not childish. I don't mind. You're just... a bit disturbed, right?”

You nod, laughing. “Yeah.” You respond. “Disturbed might be the word. Or lost, as you said before.” You say and look at him shyly, a hand behind your ear as you do. Bucky gives you a small smile and nods.

“We must all be now.” He says and focuses back on staring in front of him. He sighs deeply. “But we're not alone.”

You nod at that, wise words for the moment. Something to hold onto. You sigh and lean back into your pillows.

“You didn’t show me where you paint.” Bucky surprises you after a few minutes of silence and staring off. You look at him and furrow your eyebrows, realising after a moment that he's right.

“I promise it's not that cool in the dark.” You say to him and he laughs. “I'll show you tomorrow.” Bucky nods. You sit still for a moment and then stand up, feeling already a bit cold and deciding that being inside would be warmer.

“Tired?” He asks, but stands up as well.

“Not a trace.” You admit, both of you gathering your pillows and blankets. Once you start to walk back towards the house, the breeze really hit your skin and you feel a bit chilly. You rub up and down your own arms slowly before reaching the door and swinging it open. You let yourself in and keep your hand on the door so that Bucky could come in. He gives you a small smile.

Once you're both in bed, it doesn't feel awkward or forced or full of unwanted tension. It feels natural and very mundane. Your hand is under your cheek and under your head as you lay on your left side, your other hand tucked into the midst of the left one's articulation. A sleeping position you know you used as a child. No matter where you were sleeping, it was always a favorite of yours.

Bucky's sleeping on his right side, his hands laying next to him on the covers. Your backs are facing each other and you don't really say a word. And the silence is driving you a little insane, you can't fall asleep. The noises in your head get too loud when you're in silence. That's why you're a busy city and noise kind of person.

You turn around and Bucky shifts. It must be like one in the morning right now. “What is it?” He asks.

“I can't fucking sleep.” You voice in an angry whisper that makes Bucky chuckle.

“Sorry.” He says when you turn your head to him. “Your voice just sounded like... out of a cartoon or something.”

You don't fight the smile that breaks through. “Are you sleepy?” You return the question. Bucky shrugs, as much as he can in the position of laying on his back.

“Sort of.” He responds, unsure. You know he'd feel bad if he said 'yeah, i'm tired, i'll sleep' cause then he'd leave you to anxious thoughts and wendigo stories to deal with alone, and that'd be exactly the opposite of what you wanted. So he settled for what he said and turned to look at you.

You sigh quietly, looking at him. “I haven't slept since... since the funeral.” You admit, looking out the window to your left that show you the trees, the moon and the stars. “I know it's been two days since, and I've tried to sleep, but I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see...” You sigh hard, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why am I even telling you this? I don't...”

“It's okay.” He assures you. “I'm listening.”

You sigh again, tired of doing so, but having no words to replace the exhales with. “I see the battle and I-I see Tony...” You start to say, and your mind drifts away to the exact moment you, for some damn reason, remember best of all, “and I couldn't look away then, so it's hard to force my eyes to open.” You shake your head. “It's not like we were close or anything, we were probably the farthest from close in all the team's relationships, but... I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to live without him.”

Bucky releases a sigh that sounds more like a soft grunt and looks up at the ceiling. “I know how you feel.” He says. You turn your head.

“I know Steve means a lot to you. I see it.” You tell him. He shrugs.

“Yeah, well, the punk was gonna leave me someday.” Bucky says nonchalantly and you laugh.

“You knew he was going to do it?” You ask, and Bucky nods.

“Yeah, we talked about it.” He says. “At first, I was like, 'well, what about me?' But he explained the time-travel thing—that I still don't understand—and, well... In another timeline, there's James Barnes living a happy life with no trauma, no blood on his hands, no nothing. Marriage, kids, pie baking, petting dogs, wrinkly skin, all that.” He tells you and sighs, contently. “I'm probably dead in that universe right now.”

You laugh. “Relax, sarge.” You slap your hand on his, which makes him look at you. “You can still have it all.” You assure him now and he looks away. “You can. No mad titans coming our way soon.” You pat his hand and withdraw from him.

“Don't think I could find someone I'd be comfortable with, in all ways.” He admits quietly and you glance at him. “I'm not just anyone.”

You want to say 'I don't think I could find something to do now', but you don't. Coming from you, that'd be quite selfish and emotionally dismissing towards his feelings. “I think you'ill find someone.” You say, then, turning to lay on your right side, facing Bucky. “Everything comes with time. Eventually, you will find someone.”

He hums, and you hear a smile on his lips. “Are you getting tired?” He asks then. You nod.

“All that talking wore me down, I guess.” You say and Bucky chuckles.

“Glad I could help, if I did.” He says and you hum.

“Yeah, you did.”

As you fall asleep, you wake up as well. The same position, the same spot. You don't know what time it is when you wake up, and you've got no clock on the wall or watch on your wrist.

Bucky's not laying next to you, as you had wished quietly to yourself. But you do find a note.

'Too curious to sleep, so I went for a walk. Sleep deep, princess.'

He's written the words down on a sticky note and stuck it on the pillow he slept on. His fish-printed covers are neatly tucked under the pillows he used and into the bed. You chuckle.

That morning you had a shower by which time Bucky had successfully returned to the house and you both made breakfast together. It's been like that every morning since then. After a month or so, you started to fight over who'd make breakfast this time. From then on, it was a challenge - who would wake up first would make breakfast and the one who woke up after would clean the dishes.

Multiple silly fights and arguments came from that, fights with eggs or flour or bacon or spatulas or pillows, literally anything that could be easily thrown the other person's way to prove your point or to stop the other from entering the kitchen. Most of the time you ended in facing each other closely with ingredients (a/n: i almost wrote 'ingredience' lmao sdjfnsdjh) smeared all over your faces and daring looks in both of your eyes.

The first few times it happened, you'd just laugh it out or tickle the other, but with time, it grew stranger. Constrictions and doubts started to cloud your mind and it created tension. You thought you saw the questions in Bucky's eyes as well, but you were unsure.

He was a complicated person. But it made him more interesting to you, attracted you to him. You couldn't deny it, and tried not to think of it or show it in a weird way. Bucky knew he was someone completely new to you, and so were you to him. But, while he was intrigued by you as much as you were with him, he was tired and wanting of peace. Nothing new. But there was something about you... He didn't know.

You showed him your painting room, and the two of you spent a lot of time there when you weren't outside. When it rains or there's no sun shining or mornings when you didn't feel like eating or doing anything. You were getting everything out then. Painting, drawing, tracing lines or circles, whatever it was that helped. Bucky would wake up, ready to beat your ass to the kitchen, but he'd find the door to the attic open and wander up there to find you drawing.

Sometimes he'd ask you what you want for breakfast, but most times he'd simply sit somewhere in the corner or next to you and watch you drawing. He wouldn't ask any questions, he'd let you talk if you wanted to. And sometimes you didn't talk. The days that started with you painting or drawing were one of the bad days. You honestly didn't want to bring Bucky down with your bad mood, but you couldn't help to sometimes feel everything at once or nothing so intensely that it was overwhelming. And you had no strength to be a person those days.

The best part about Bucky, you think, was that he was so understanding. He has probably felt every bad emotion there is for a person to feel and it allows him to see everything from your point of view. Every feeling, every doubt, every emotion. Sure, you weren't brainwashed and made a weapon for a whole century, but you had your pains, too. And Bucky understood every one of them.

That is the main reason, you think, for starting to feel something for him. You hadn't met anyone so willing to understand, so empathic and so caring towards you. In the team, it was all “don't die” or “be perfect on each mission”, the closest you were to anyone was Tony, and even that was only on an 'acquaintances' level. Bucky truly cared, and he was there, even if you two weren't originally friends.

Bucky could say the same about you, you were incredibly caring and worried, and passionate and proud. He saw you as such a beautiful person physically and emotionally that one day it was just overwhelming and he questioned his mind for what was happening. Butterflies? Out of breath? Heart doing flips? Strange behavior.

You knew something was up when you got the idea to paint Bucky. He's got a beautiful profile, long hair, deep eyes and just an overall beautiful face. And what his soul says through his eyes made you want to put it on canvas badly. So you sat him down in a position that could be convenient and began painting him.

One painting turned into three variations, and those turned into many smaller portraits, and those turned into many, many, many sketched portraits, drawings and even smaller paintings. You also painted and drew his eyes separately, as well as his hair.

He thinks that's when something inside him started to pull him towards you. When you started to paint him. Less words were exchanged, cause suddenly the both of you grew nervous around each other and make-believe boundaries made you question everything you wanted to say to the other. He honestly loved watching you paint, but he couldn't just say it to you.

Your everyday life consisted of making food, spending time in the forest, gardening, grocery shopping, job hunting, painting, occasional working out and training, visiting others or others visiting you. Sam came by when he wasn't busy doing his Captain America duties. Bruce visited with pies and new experiment stories to tell. Sometimes Tony's former 'body guard' Happy forcely drove Peter Parker to visit you two, his visits were always enlightening. He had lost a lot, and been through a lot, but there was still some of that annoyingly bright enthusiasm in him that made you and Bucky laugh.

One time, about four months since you and Bucky had started to live in the house together, you drove to visit Pepper and Morgan. You wanted to see them both badly, and Bucky agreed to come with you, with Pepper's permission, of course.

Where they lived was so beautiful. Your summer house could never compare. You brought something you cooked yourself and a harmless gift for Morgan, as well as a good appearance and best behavior. You practically spent the whole day there, talking with Pepper, cooking with her, playing outside with Morgan. Probably the best day you'd had since the battle and the funeral.

“How is everything over there? How are you guys doing?” Pepper asks softly, holding her cup of coffee in hand and looking at you. You're sitting outside, on the terrace, at a table, both of you drinking coffee, talking and watching Bucky and Morgan interact. She's very shy of him, since she doesn't know him at all, but she's warming up slowly.

You can see Bucky was good with kids back in his time, and the old 'habits' start to come back, and it makes you smile. He's trying his best and they're both laughing, so it's alright. You thought Pepper would be cautious towards Bucky playing with Morgan or him even being here, but it is the opposite. She doesn't have any bad thoughts about him, she knows what's happened and she knows what he's done, but she's not like the others. She knows he's not the man HYDRA made him to be.

“We're good.” You respond to her question. “Well, great actually. But there are bad days, of course.” You explain further. “We don't really do much except for cooking and walking and job-hunting.”

“Find anything interesting?” Pepper questions. You chuckle.

“Certainly.” You nod and you both smile. “There are a lot of options. But I'm just... afraid to go out there. To live such a... such an ordinary, regular life. It seems unnatural of me.”

“It might at first, but you can't spend your whole life doing nothing.” She says. “Of course, you've made a big difference and left your mark on the world already, but now's the time to think about your... I don't know, childhood dreams and what you've always wanted to do.”

You smile at her. “Thank you, Pepper.” You say.

“Did you have a childhood dream?” She asks and you take a moment to think about it. Then you laugh, realising what your first one was.

“Yeah, I did, um,” you start to tell, “I wanted to be a surfer, actually.” You admit and you both have a warm laugh together. “Doesn't seem that attractive anymore. But um, I think I just always wanted to help people. And everyone has told me I'm wise in the emotional sense of things, so I could be a therapist, a psychiatrist. One of those.”

“I wish you the best of luck, then.” Pepper says and you nod. “What has he got in mind?” She asks, looking at Bucky and Morgan.

You shrug, genuinely not knowing the answer. “He hasn't told me. And I never asked, either.” You admit. And you sigh, realising you probably should have asked. “We haven't really talked about it.” You admit and decide that you'll do that when you drive home or when you are home.

There isn't a car other than yours driving on the road when you're heading home. Must be normal for a Sunday evening. Bucky's awfully quiet, hasn't said a thing since you got in the car. Something's wrong, you can feel it. And you're not going to spend the rest 50 (at least) minutes of the car ride home in awkward silence.

“Something the matter, Buck?” You ask. He looks at you for a moment, and then looks back out the window. The view ahead is dark, dark trees and dark skies. The sun has set already. Bucky sighs.

“Can't say no as much as I'd like to, cause you'd know that's not true.” He says and you nod.

“I agree to that.” You say. “So what is it?”

Bucky doesn't say anything for a while. He's trying to put what he feels into a few words. “I was, uh, playing with Morgan,” he begins, “she's so lovely.” He admits. You nod, agreeing to that as well. Bucky takes a deep breath. “Thought about having kids of my own,” he says and stops for a second that gives you the chance to process his words. What is he going to say next?, “And then my thoughts went back to Tony, and I, uh...” He looks down.

You wait for him to speak, you let him take his time. Cause whatever he's feeling, it clearly looks like it's very hard on him.

“I never got to say 'I'm sorry' about k-killing his parents.” He finally says, and his voice is shaking. You stop the car on the side of the road quickly and unbuckle your seat belt so you could move closer to him. You hear Bucky sniffling. “Never had the chance to talk to him.” He says and you reach for his hands with yours. They're wet with tears already and you squeeze his large hands between your small ones. “And Tony lost his father and now Morgan has lost hers. And I just... I wonder if it's all my fault.”

You embrace him in a hug and let him cry, moving your hand up and down his back soothingly. “It's not all your fault. None of it is.” You offer and Bucky lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are horribly sad and tearful, and they make you feel bad for him, feel the things he does with him.

“You think so?” His broken voice asks and you nod. Your faces are very close to each other, but it goes unnoticed by either of you.

“I know so.” You say and close your eyes. “None of what happened to you is your fault. I know how you must feel for not getting the chance to talk to Tony. But, uh, I think he knows.” You say. “Five years is a long time to overthink a lot of things. He had definitely come to a few conclusions.”

Bucky looks away and then down at his hands. “I'm sorry, I'm still...” his words make you furrow your eyebrows and you turn his face back to face you, holding his cheek. Only lightly, and that's when your realise how close you really are to each other.

“You don't ever have to apologise to me for talking or crying, I promise.” You say. “You don't have to hide.”

Bucky tries to sigh without shaky breath, but it still trembles. “How can I?” He questions and you, out of habit, move a strand of his brown locks behind his ear. The gesture makes him look at you, and he blinks once or twice to get the tears out of his eyes.

“Don't let there be barriers.” You whisper. “Don't filter the feelings that want to come out, let them.” You say and offer him a smile. Bucky doesn't respond for a moment, but then he looks straight at you, determined eyes not so far from yours. As well as lips.

“What if I've hid so much that I'm scared to tell someone my feelings?” He asks softly, his hands finding yours in between you both. You glance down at them and stammer a bit.

“Are-Are they a good person?” You decide to ask. “To you?”

“The best.” Bucky says and chuckles airily. Well, you're glad he's smiling. But you don't have time to linger on it too much—the former soldier's lips have finally pulled towards yours and you're kissing. You're actually kissing.

You're a bit confused at first, but then you smile brighter than the sun and kiss back, your hands on Bucky's cheeks, and pull yourself on his lap, pulling him as close to you as possible. And he, of course, reciprocates, his arms around your back, holding you as though you might slip away.

You won't. Not for a long time. This is what you want, this is what he wants. You've found each other in the right way and at the right time, and neither of you would ever voluntarily walk away from this. Not ever.

A/N: And they lived happily ever after in their little lake castle. Or, another episode of me not being able to write normal endings. Hope you enjoyed! Happy tears :)

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