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wreckofawriter · 4 years

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Heartbeat Part 2

(Final Part) <Part 1>

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3,580

Warnings: Angsty at the beginning, umm mentions of suicide and depression, swearing

Summary: An idea given to me by @mcluuvin666 Thank you so much! Reader moves on from Sirius and he realizes he made a mistake

A/n: This took me forever to write, I hope you guys like it!

You used to tell yourself you didn’t cry, that it was weak. But that was never true. The truth was you had cried far more in your life than you would ever admit. You had cried when your parents yelled at you or when your father hit you or your mother cursed you. You had cried when you fell from the tree in your backyard and when you slipped off your bike when you were nine. You had cried when you failed your first exam in the second year and recently you cried for no reason at all other than you simply needed to. You never let anyone see it but you cried a lot. But you had never cried like this before

You lay in that classroom for what could have been an hour or could have been a year. Loud sobs clawing from your throat like a feral beast that had finally been released. You felt your head pound as you pressed your forehead to the floor. After some amount of time had passed your throat no longer allowed any sound but whimpers from you. You could still feel tears slide down your face dripping off your nose and pooling on its curves. Your face felt hot, too hot like it was boiling, flesh burning.

Your mouth tasted bitter. You felt so frail. So incredibly weak. When you finally managed to get to your feet it was dark out, the moon nearly full, stars so bright they seemed only inches away.

You made it outside easily, no one was around to stop you if there was you doubt they would have succeeded. You stepped out onto the dewy grass where you once lay with Sirius. Where he had kissed you, where you had said you loved him and where he hadn't responded.

You should have felt stupid, so fucking stupid, but you didn’t. You didn't feel anything, anger, misery, hatred, despair and so many other bottles of feelings had been released. And now they were gone. And you felt numb. Your heart had slowed to its normal pace as you continued across the grass appearing silver in the moonlight.

You walked until your feet met with wood, you traveled out to the dock, the sound of crickets and small frogs filling you.

You stopped at the end of the dock. You contemplated taking another step, letting your body become a part of the darkness before you.

And then you did.

Your body hit the water and you were plunged into a cold you had never felt before. Your robes soaked instantly and you began to sink. You slowly parted your eyelids, you looked upwards at the celestial being above you quivering under the lense of wetness. You could see the moon, but your eyes didn't stay on the small planet for long. They traveled to the brightest star in the sky. Sirius. It blinked back at you slowly moving further and further away as your lungs began to burn. Your hair began to float in front of your face, your robes reaching towards the light as you were dragged backward by an unseeable force.

Then your eyes slipped shut and the fire inside you built, the burn strengthening. You could still see the bright star in your eyelids.

You felt the numbness suddenly disappear and for the first time in your entire life you were alone and you actually felt alive.

Your feet began to kick, black dress shoes moving in a flutter. You pushed yourself upwards, arms pumping as your eyes popped back open, your chest burnt, you would make it you knew you would, because you were still alive, and you would stay that way.

When you broke the surface of the water you immediately drew in a harsh breath forcing water further down your lungs as you began to cough. You managed to the shore collapsing in a heap of coughs. Until your lungs cleared and you were finally allowed to breathe normally again.

You're sitting staring out at the lake, ripples lingering from your plunge. The moon and stars reflected back at you making you feel as if you were trapped between two godly works of art and you could only stare, your heart thumped loudly you felt amazing, amused, and absolutely alive. Because you were alive. And you weren't about to let so asshole with mommy issues change that.

You felt a smile creep onto your lips as you stood. Your robes weighed what must have been thousands of pounds but you didn't care. You let out a light bubble of laughter chin tilting upwards as you breathed in deeply the scent of midnight dew and pond water filling you as your hair clung to your face. You extended your arms, spreading them like an eagle.

"I'm alive." You whispered up in the sky. And you were.

You awoke the next morning feeling as if you had dropped 50 pounds. Standing wasn't a struggle, your eyelids didn't drag downward, your heartbeat was lively and awake. You simply felt good.

When you arrived in the great hall for breakfast you were met with quite a few surprised faces. You could see Sirius staring at you from his corner of toxic masculinity. The surprise in his eyes made rage cycle through you. You were tempted to run and scream at him, but you didn’t. You took a deep breath reminding yourself that was exactly what he wanted and you refused to give in to his wants ever again. You ate breakfast while reading one of your favorite books you had dug out of your trunk that morning. Everything seemed so much easier after last night.

You surprised just about everyone in your herbology class by being quite kind to the Hufflepuff who sat next to you. You had even asked for some help baffling the light-haired girl. During Transfiguration, you had made a point to apologize to McGonagall for missing that morning’s detention. Her eyes had gone wide and she had looked a bit pale, asking if you were alright which you assured her you were.

On your way to lunch, you did something absolutely unliveable. A young Gryffindor had been cornered in a remote hallway you used as a shortcut. You had come across five second-year girls who were teasing the poor girl, snickers leaving their mouth. You had debated continuing walking but you let out a sharp sigh and took a few steps towards the girls grabbing the two who were currently taking charge by their hair.

They had shrieked as you yanked them backward. Once they had turned and met your face the color had drained from their own. A sweet smile graced your lips. You asked them if they knew who you were. Both nodded quickly.

“Good.” You continued to grin, “Then you should know I don’t bluff. Now I will ask you once. Leave this girl alone or next time I will rip the hair from your head.”

They had scattered after you released them, their friends already long gone. You walked towards the girl on the ground. She had on large horn-rimmed glasses which magnified her sky blue eyes. Her teeth held bright pink banded braces, her hair a dirty blonde.

“Let me guess, you’re a mud- muggleborn.” You said catching yourself quickly.

She nodded slowly, she looked terrified.

You laughed a bit and she jumped. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a changed woman, plus muggles write the best books.” You winked. “I’m y/n y/l/n.” You extended a hand.

“Rebecca Lastings.” She responded quietly, taking your offer as you helped pull her to her feet.

“Well, I’m starving. You wanna get lunch?” You asked as you helped gather her scattered books.

She smiled a bit, “Yeah sure.”

Lunch was... interesting. Turned out that Rebecca had an older sister named Laney Lastings - in your opinion a very catchy name - and when she saw her sister eating lunch with one of the most infamous Slytherins she was reasonably concerned.

When the Ravenclaw had marched up to you as you were shoveling chicken salad into your mouth you had once again done the shocking thing. You smiled and greeted the girl.

“What are you doing with my little sister.” She had hissed cutting you short.

You shrugged, “Eating.”

The blonde scoffed, “Becc lets go.” she snatched her sister’s arm but to her surprise Rebecca resisted.

“But she was just telling me about a book she read.” The younger girl spoke softly. By the look on the older’s face, you guessed she didn’t defy orders often. “It sounded very interesting.”

Laney looked up at you. You just shrugged. “What is going on?” she looked a bit shook up.

“Look I know what you think of me, hell what every single person in this room thinks of me but I’m a changed woman.” You explained, “I am honestly just talking to your sister, I have no intention of hurting her in any way shape or form.”

Laney’s eyes narrowed but Rebecca sat back down and took a bite of her peanut butter sandwich. “Come on y/l/n people don’t just change overnight.”

You shrugged again, “I did. Feel free to join us.” You motioned to the seat next to Laney’s sister and to your surprise she took it. And for the first time in your entire life, you had made actual friends.

You dreaded detention the next morning but to your surprise, it was rather pleasant. When you entered the large room it was already sanctioned into two groups. One contained three boys sitting in neighboring desks while the second held one dark-haired boy at the back of the room glaring at the former group.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion and sat a few desks away from both crowds. You then began to sort the paperwork you were told to, taking a walkman out and clipping in a favored artist.

About halfway through the hour, you were drawn from your work when a figure appeared before you. You looked up to see a pair of hazel eyes and curly hair hidden under a navy beanie. You removed your headphones letting them rest around your neck giving him a questioning look.

“Hey.” He managed, looking a bit unsure of himself.

“Hey?” You responded, glancing at the group he had left meeting to pair of eyes which quickly darted away.

“So umm, I know it's not really my place to say but I’m sorry,” Remus spoke, biting his lip.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, still visibly confused.

He lowered his voice, “What Sirius did was really fucked up.” Suddenly the sanctions made sense, “And I just thought I would let you know that I’m sorry on his behalf.”

You let out a small laugh, “Please don’t Remus, you clean up enough of that boy's messes already, don’t put this on yourself. But thanks anyway.” You shrugged going to put back on your headphones.

“Laney told me about what you did for her little sister.” He spoke in a rush.

You stopped, “And?”

“She has been trying to get those girls to leave Becc alone for like three months, she started skipping classes and meals to avoid them, it was bad. But you stopped them with one conversation. That was really nice of you y/n.” Remus stated.

“It was whatever.” You answered with a shrug.

“It really wasn’t,” He protested, “But look we both wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to our study session tomorrow night. We get together three times a week, it’s me Laney and a few others, they’re all pretty chill and it would be great if you could come.”

A smile found your face, “Really?”

“Yeah, we meet in the library after dinner.” He was playing with his fingers now.

“Okay, sure. That sounds awesome.” You said.

“Great.” He grinned bouncing on the balls of his feet before turning and leaving.

“Hey, Remus.” You called just before he made it back to his seat. He whipped his head to look at you. “Thanks.”

In all honesty, being nice was completely exhausting, actually caring what others thought of you took its toll, especially after the well-crafted reputation you had built for yourself. You had also started paying attention in classes for the first time in a long time so you had mountains of homework and suddenly understood your peer’s desperation for good grades. You tried to convince yourself that a study group was a brilliant idea but your worries ate away at you.

What happened when most of the group hated you? Would they cuss you out? What if they refused you despite Remus’s invitation? There was so much room for failure. Godric making friends was difficult.

You busied yourself with the nightly homework in the common room, you had gotten used to the strange looks you received. A whistle drew yourself from your herbology sketch.

“Wow y/l/n, I did not expect you to turn into a loser when you found out.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar voice, “Avery.” You drawled.

“What has gotten into you?” He asked, taking a seat next to you, “First you help out a mudblood, then you go and make friends with her filthy sister and now you're doing Herbology homework?”

You glared at the boy, “Don’t call them that.”

He only smirked back, “I must say you look much prettier without the bags beneath your eyes and a little effort put in.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat resisting the urge to strangle him.

“There’s the y/n I know.” He smiled triumphantly, “But where has she been? People don’t change overnight.”

“Well, I did douchebag.” You hissed.

“No you didn't.” he sneered, “You're still the same stone-cold bitch, you’re just hiding it and let me tell you, I can’t wait for that mask to break.”

Your hand tightened around your quill, “Shut up.”

“I’ll be there to catch you when you fall y/l/n. I’m glad you’re wearing skirts again, you look hot.” He taunted his face so close to your own you could smell his cologne.

You were about to slap him but before you could a voice resonated through the air, “Avery back off her.”

You both looked up and you met the gaze of a Slytherin you swear you had never seen before. He had dark hair and darker eyes, his face was sharply cut, lips looking far too rounded on his visage.

“What do you have on it Dapperton?” Avery asked leaning away from you.

“Just back off.” His tone was harsh, a thick Scottish accent in his voice.

“Whatever.” Avery scoffed standing and shooting you one last glance before leaving the room.

“You okay?” The boy you now knew as Dapperton asked.

“Yeah, fine.” You managed.

“Cool, listen I was wondering if you could help me with my Arithmetic, I’ve heard you are pretty good at it.” He said.

“Sure. I’m y/-”

“I know who you are.’” He laughed, “I’m Lewis. Lewis Dapperton.”

“Okay, nice to meet you, Lewis.”

You had made three official friends.

You tried not to let Avery’s words bother you as the days passed. But it was hard. The study group had been a bit awkward but not all that bad, Lewis was actually a member much to your surprise. Nights became difficult again. The idea that maybe this was just a passing phase and that it was simply a few good days got to you. I mean people didn’t just change overnight.

But I did. You screamed at yourself. I swear I did.

It all came crashing into a dreadful climax two weeks after night it all started.

It had been two weeks of confusion that morphed to anger and soon into sadness and jealousy for Sirius Black. When he had seen you in the great hall the night after you had found out about the thirty points he had almost shit his pants. You were up? And you were smiling?! He was sure you were going to come over and rip his throat out at breakfast. But you didn’t You just sat at your isolated seat at the end of the Slytherin table and read, looking surprisingly relaxed.

You had left a bit early and Remus had dumped his pumpkin juice on him saying he was a complete objectifying asshole and part of the reason why women were not viewed equal to men. Leave it to the feminist to ruin a perfectly normal bet. He had made the mistake of saying that out loud and caused an uproar at the Gryffindor table.

He had seen you working in the few shared classes you had and had been quite surprised. How was it you were having a better day than him? He supposed karma bit harshly. When you saw you at lunch sitting with a young Gryffindor girl he had once again been completely boggled. And soon you were joined by a Ravenclaw as well. What universe was he in?

That night he had gotten into another heated argument with his best friends. One that ended in him sleeping in the common room, locked away from his bed.

He had dreamt of you. That night when you had stargazed. When you had kissed him. When you had told him you loved him. He dreamt of your lips on his, hands in his hair, the dew seeping through his robes and the chirp of crickets.

The next morning sucked. He sat alone during detention forced to watch as you happily hummed along to your music. Your hair was pulled back and it looked surprisingly nice. You were also wearing a skirt. When did you get so pretty? Remus talked to you and mentioned him. Sirius bit his tongue not wanting to cause a scene. Plus the glare James was giving him hurt on another level.

The week got worse and worse. Suddenly you had friends and had started hanging out with a far too handsome Slytherin. You also choose that week to look ridiculously gorgeous and suddenly his thoughts were full of you. He found himself missing your scent and the texture of your hair. The sound of your laughter was a drug he had been deprived of.

His dreams of you got worse. He dreamt that he had told you he loved you when you asked. He dreamed he hadn’t left you alone. He dreamed of laughing in detention with you, making out in broom closets, going to quidditch matches together, sleeping with you.

He woke each day more aggravated than the last. Why the fuck was he the one suffering? It wasn’t fair. Well, he supposed it was. Finally, he gathered his remailing pride and tossed it out a window before cornering you on the way back from herbology.

“Y/n please just give me a minute.” He begged as you began to walk away.

“Sirius I have wasted far too many of my minutes on you.” You spat glaring past the boy.

“Please.” He pleaded.

You sighed tapping your foot angrily, “You’ve got one minute.”

It was then Sirius realized he had absolutely no plan, “What’s up with you?”

“What?” You glowered refusing to meet his eye.

“I mean you’re all nice and shit and you’re actually hanging out with people. It’s weird.” He explained.

“So, me being nice is weird?” You clarified.

“Yeah! People don’t change overnight!” He rationalized.

“So I’ve been told.” You murmured, “Look if this is all just about me being nice then please save me time and leave me alone.”

Sirius groaned, “It’s not just that! How are you so, so I don’t know okay?”

You finally looked him in the eyes and he really wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were dark with anger, narrowed to slits, reminding him of a snake. “You wanna know why I’m so okay?” You asked and suddenly he didn’t. “Because I was really really not fucking okay.”

Sirius was visibly confused, “What?”

“I almost drowned myself that night Sirius.” You hissed.

His heart stopped. “What.”

“Yeah.” You snarled, “I walked straight off that dock, shoes and all, and I let myself sink halfway to the bottom before I decided I wanted to live.” You spoke gesturing towards the lake.

Sirius wanted the earth to swallow him whole. You wouldn’t have opposed.

“And when finally reached the shore I had an epiphany.” You spoke with false glamor. “I suddenly realized I wasn’t going to let cock suckers like you and my parents decided anything about me and the way I live my life.”

Sirius wanted to break into tears. He started at you. The face he had been dreaming of for weeks meer meters from him and suddenly realized how desperately in love with you he was.

“So guess what, I changed overnight because I would have died if I didn’t.” You spat before brushing past him without another word. Sirius grabbed your wrist as you passed.

You turned glaring at him.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He spoke his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

“You know I can’t answer that.” You scoffed snatching your wrist from his hold and turning to leave.

Sirius watched as you left so full of regret he couldn’t think of anything but what-ifs. When you were out of sight he sat on the ground and began to cry.

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@wtfdanness

@darkhorse-of-your-dream

@geeksareunique

@songforhema

@wangmangagavroche

@evyiione

@accio-rogers

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cassiopeiassky · 5 years

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When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 51

It’s heeeeeere! I finally connected all the dots. Special thanks to @the-chubby-persimmon for beta-ing and giving me the encouragement I needed to finish the chapter - you’re the absolute best. Oh, and although the chapter wraps nicely, this isn’t the end. I’ll let you all know when we get there ;)

Also I need love and affirmation please send love and affirmation

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 5808

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions/descriptions of anxiety, panic attack, injuries, and blood. Oh...here there be smut (say it with me in a piratey accent...it’s fun). I’m not doing an edited version this time because the first and last time I did that it was a raging dumpster fire.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“Absolutely. FRIDAY, please show any Disney animated movie except Snow White and Pinocchio.”

Honestly, this man is too good to be true.

“Yes, Sargent Barnes.” The tv lights up and just a few moments later the opening for the Emperor’s New Groove starts playing. “I hope you don’t mind – I took the liberty of downloading your preferences from SUNDAY.”

“That’s perfect FRIDAY, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“I never thought I’d get used to and actually miss an AI presence, but here we are,” you mutter.

Bucky puts his arm around your shoulders as he snickers. “I’m right there with you, Sweetheart.”

He waits until you finish eating before he cocoons you both into the blanket, content to watch your favorite movies until the jet lands safely in New York.

You begin to wake, but you fight it with everything you have because this dream is so much better than your current reality. The strong arm around your waist holding you snug against a warm, solid chest is a memory you don’t want to lose to consciousness. The smell of Bucky surrounding you as his slow and even breaths cause your hair to gently tickle your ear is such a welcome and familiar comfort, but you can’t help but notice that something is off. Has your memory already begun to fray?

His scent is mixed with something…an unfamiliar detergent, maybe? Not at all unpleasant, just different.

You’re lying on your left side. Bucky is behind you, and the arm around you is his natural arm.

Wait.

That’s not right…

Bucky has a thing when he sleeps - he needs to be between you and the door. If you’re lying on your left side, you’re facing the door. He should be in front of you, not behind you...he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep like this. You know this, even in your dreams. Yet, with all this thinking bringing you further into the realm of wakefulness, you still feel him. You finally concede defeat and crack open an eye.

A window? Or a door to a balcony, maybe? Certainly not the window of your prison, and not a window at home – well, the safehouse – either. There’s a sharp ache in your right thigh as you move, causing you to finally shake completely free of slumber’s hold and realize that this isn’t a dream. This is real, you’re really in Bucky’s arms.

Fully awake and mind now crystal clear, you remember the hours on the jet and watching out the window as you flew into New York. You remember being swarmed by medical personnel almost immediately upon landing, and having a panic attack when someone with good intentions injected morphine into the port still in the back of your hand without letting you know beforehand. That guy now has an accidentally broken hand, courtesy of Steve, and a completely intentionally broken nose, courtesy of Nat.

Bruce was there, and he explained the plan they had in place to fix your leg: First, surgery to remove the lead coated bullet from your thigh, then they were going to apply some sort of self-regenerating tissue patch that would allow your leg to almost fully heal within 96 hours…apparently it had been shipped in from a Dr. Cho as a special favor. You consented to the treatment, but you’d wanted local anesthetic instead of general. Bruce, Bucky, and Tony teamed up to persuade you to accept the general anesthesia because it would be safer for you and better for the tissue patch, which you were told would cause significant pain for the first hour or so. They also wanted you under because they wanted to transport you – preferably unconscious to avoid any unnecessary discomfort – to another facility for safety and privacy almost immediately after the surgery. When you’d finally consented, Tony thrust a clipboard full of papers into your hand; he said that he needed your formal, signed consent to treat since you’d be cared for under his policies. You looked for the bright pink signature flags and signed them all as quickly as you could while Bucky rubbed your shoulders; he knew you were afraid you’d chicken out and change your mind about the anesthesia.

You didn’t. Somehow, your trust in these people overcame your anxiety. Bucky was holding your hand when you succumbed to unconsciousness.

Your memories after that are quite a bit shiftier, thanks to the anesthesia. Still, there are bits and pieces for you to put together. After you started coming out of the anesthesia, they cleared you to leave the infirmary. The patch you’d been given sped the healing process up so significantly that just a few hours post-surgery was more like a day. There’s a choppy recollection being transported to another area, a helicopter ride, and hearing voices – even more intangible is the vague memory of hearing good-natured laughter after you told someone to kindly fuck off and leave you the hell alone because you were tired and wanted to go back to sleep, and oh, where was your unicorn – the sparkly one with purple hair? Maybe that was a dream?

That’s the last you can remember, and now you’re here. The gaps in your memory scare you a bit, but you remind yourself that you’re no longer in the hands of people that wish to do you harm; you’re here, curled up with Bucky. Safe. Barely containing the laugh that tries to bubble out of you, you shift to look around in the dim light. What time is it? It’s dark, but it’s also late January so considering how short the days are that doesn’t tell you much. Well, you think it’s still January, but you’ll have to ask someone to make sure February didn’t come around while you were still stuck in hell.

There’s a gentle, pale blue glow coming through the window from the almost full moon and the plethora of stars twinkling in the clear velvet sky. If you crane your neck just a little more, you can see the snow blanketing surrounding area and reflecting the starlight. It’s extraordinarily peaceful, and you’re grateful that Bucky left the blinds open. You’re pretty sure he did it for your benefit, so you wouldn’t wake up in the pitch-black darkness of an unfamiliar room.

There’s a nightstand next to your side of the bed with a lamp and pile of books. Directly across from the bed there’s a dresser with another pile of books stacked on top, and there are doors on either side. Given the placement of the doors, you can only assume that one leads to a bathroom and the other to a closet. At least, you hope so.

Moving slowly, you carefully disengage from Bucky’s embrace. It’s not that you want to move, but damn you have to pee. Testing the range of motion in your leg, you find that the ache feels less like an injury and more like the stiff disuse of waking up the second day after a car accident or really intense workout. It easily holds your weight as you stand and even seems to loosen slightly as you carefully stretch. There aren’t any crutches or a cane nearby, and you think you remember someone telling you that by the time you awoke you’d be sore but healed enough to get around. There are bandages on your arm and hand from the IVs, but those seems to be the only other lasting reminders of the fact that you went through actual surgery.

You take a step, but then turn back to watch Bucky for a few heartbeats. God, you fucking missed him. You can clearly see the toll these past few weeks have taken from him – even in the semi-darkness you can see the dark bags of exhaustion under his eyes, the longer than usual facial hair, the way his cheeks almost seem gaunt. The lines on his forehead seem just a bit deeper, and his lips are chapped. It might just be a trick of the moonlight, but you could swear that you see some sparse spots of silver in his scruff. It’s obvious that he hasn’t been taking care of himself, and you feel a now familiar stab of guilt because you know damn well that it’s because of you.

Holding back a sigh, you turn and walk to the door to the left of the dresser. When you step through the threshold you are delighted to find that you have, in fact, found the bathroom. At least now you won’t have to wake up Bucky to find out where it is. Before turning on the light, you close the door with a quiet click, thinking to spare Bucky the sudden brightness, and are pleasantly surprised to find that the bathroom light must be on both a sensor and a dimmer because the room is now gently lit but not so much so that your eyes have to struggle to adjust.

Glancing in the mirror gives you a start – for all your concern for Bucky, you’re not exactly looking like a prize yourself, not that you ever really do. A good washing will fix your hair, but your complexion has an unhealthy waxiness to it, your eyes are sunken and dull, and although they are slowly beginning to fade, the bruises from your assaults are still on your face and body. You’re either going to have to get someone to pick up some makeup for you or you’ll have to forgo FaceTiming the boys tomorrow and call instead. They shouldn’t see you like this.

After relieving yourself and washing your hands, you start pulling off your bandages. The IV sites on your hand and in the crook of your arm look exactly as you would expect – you rinse off the little bit of dried blood that’s left behind and double check to make sure the tiny wounds don’t start bleeding. You do the same for the bandage on your leg except, when you wipe away the blood, the skin underneath isn’t a stitched incision like you’d expected but rather a shiny red scar.

Holy shit, it looks like you’ve already been healing for over a week. There isn’t even a scab. “Well color me impressed,” you mutter in surprise. This is incredible, so why the hell isn’t this type of technology mainstream? It’s something you’ll have to ask about later.

But for now, it’s time to get back to Bucky. You don’t fight the smile that comes to your face – back to Bucky, because he’s just on the other side of the door, sleeping peacefully. When you turn to leave, you find a plastic bag hanging from the door handle of what you assume is the linen closet. It’s hanging by just one side, so as you walk by you can clearly see into the bag. It’s…your bodywash? You find yourself almost beaming as you start sifting through the bag. There’s the bodywash you’d used for years, the only shampoo and conditioner that have ever truly come close to managing your curls, your favorite body lotion, and even your preferred skin care. Tears fill your eyes at the simple gesture; you’d have been perfectly fine using whatever Bucky had on hand, but he’d wanted you to feel like yourself again.

“I don’t deserve you, Buck. You sweet, sweet man,” you hum as you snap open the bodywash cap and lift it to your nose. The smell is…it smells like you. Like you. It smells like early mornings before you went to work. It smells like the middle of the night right after the boys were born, washing off the endless spit up during the only 10 minutes a day you could get to yourself. It smells like showering before bed because it was the only time you could fit it in, and then bringing one of the boys to bed with you because he’s sick and can’t sleep without your cuddles. It smells like lazy mornings at the safehouse when everyone was awake and tangled together under the comforter as cartoons played in the background. It smells like Bucky nuzzling into your neck from behind, then leaving a soft kiss before telling you that you smell amazing.

Then the memory of Jimmy trying to use your bodywash instead of the tear free formula you buy for them comes to mind – he told you he wanted to smell like Momma. Like you.

And with that, you finally break from the weight of what you went through.

For the first few moments it’s a little hard to breathe. Five and a half jagged breaths later the sobs start, and you somehow end up on your knees desperately clawing at the floor to feel something, anything, other than the suffocating torment that’s been waiting for the right moment to descend upon you. Then your hands are in your hair, clutching fistfuls near your scalp because it’s the only thing your fingers can find, and because the dull pain from pulling your hair offers just the slightest distraction from the debilitating agony in your psyche.

The sound you make when you feel something warm on one wrist and cool on the other is almost inhuman; a mix of a wail and a howl, the very essence of devastating grief marrying incomprehensible suffering. The gentle but insistent tugs finally succeed in getting you to straighten up enough for Bucky to pull you into his arms. Your hands go from your hair to around his neck, holding on in a frantic attempt to keep from being swept away by this brutal tsunami.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart. Go ahead, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Bucky repeats these words like a favorite song on a loop as he holds you close and rubs your back. Your entire body shakes with your bawling sobs, but he somehow manages to keep you from breaking apart completely despite the pain, anger, humiliation, guilt, shame, and fear trying to pull you in different directions.

There’s no sense of time in this abyss – it would be inconsequential even if it did exist – but even the fiercest, most destructive storms don’t last forever. Eventually, it will sap the atmosphere of fuel and die down. When your wracking sobs finally subside to gasping shudders, your head is pounding, your lungs ache, and your face has grown hot and itchy from the tears.

But despite your physical discomfort, you feel considerably lighter. Exhausted but relieved. It feels like you lanced a festering would – it was an ugly process and it still hurts, but it’s a different kind of hurt. It’s a hurt that feels like it might finally begin to give way to healing because the poison has been let out.

Bucky’s gentle humming gives you something else to focus on as you close your swollen eyes and allow him to shift you slightly. He’s sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, and you’re sitting between his legs and leaning against him, more or less cradled in his arms with your legs draped over one of his thighs. He’s so solid and steady; the immoveable rock in the unreliable landscape of your shifting emotions.

Without loosening his grip on you, he reaches for something – the bottle of bodywash – and clicks open the top to smell it before setting it to the side. “I get it, Sweetheart. I get it, the significance of this smell. When I was first free, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know who I was after everything I’d done, and everything that was done to me – I didn’t feel the same, I sure as hell didn’t look the same, and the whole damn world had changed – and I just wanted something comfortable. Familiar. So I thought,” he twirls a lock of your hair around his finger, “that if I could maybe just smell like myself, that it might be enough to hold on to, to remind myself that I wasn’t HYDRA’s puppet anymore.” Bucky chuckles, “It was a good idea, in theory. Not so much in practice. Most men, myself included, just smelled like armpit and cigarette smoke a few hours after bathing. While I definitely appreciate cologne and deodorant now, it really wasn’t a thing for men back in the 30s and 40s – that stuff was considered to be for women only.”

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead. “It got to the point where I couldn’t stand myself, and it didn’t exactly help me blend in or get jobs for cash, especially since I couldn’t always afford to wash my clothes regularly. Then one day I stopped by a drugstore to pick up some razorblades. There was an open jar on the counter for people to try, and I caught a whiff of it as I walked by. It…it smelled just like my ma. It surprised me so much that I started crying in the middle of the store, which of course really, really concerned some of the other customers. It was only a few months after I got free, so I was still pretty rough and crusty looking. Some lady approached me and I panicked – I swiped the jar and ran out. I spent the next two days just intermittently sniffing the stuff. Turned out to be cold cream – I don’t know if it was the same brand my ma used, but I didn’t care. It smelled just like her.”

A warmth blossoms in your chest – that’s probably one of the sweetest things you’ve ever heard. “Did it help?”

“Mmm hmm. Gave me something good to remember, instead of all the bad. It reminded me of who I was before – before HYDRA, hell, who I was before the war. My ma was…she was my safe place. I got along with my dad just fine, but deep down I was always a mama’s boy.”

“Do you still have it?” You don’t remember seeing it, but that doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah, but I don’t need it anymore.” Bucky tightens his hold on you. “You’re my safe place now.” The two of you sit in silence for a while, just holding each other. Just before you begin to drift off, he murmurs, “Do you want to take a shower? Smell like you again?”

You nod wordlessly as you untangle yourself and clumsily rise. Because yes. Yes, you do.

He swiftly puts your toiletries where they belong as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

Yikes.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He steps past you and into the shower to start the water while you begin to get out of your…what the hell are these things, anyway? Hospital issue shorts that snap at the waist and a top that ties at the neck and sides. Not exactly the pinnacle of comfort, but much better than one of those drafty ass-baring gowns.

There’s no mistaking his hesitation when he speaks, “Alright, Sweetheart. You should be good to go. I’ll be nearby, so just call if you need anything.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that he would leave. Panic tries to rise but you grab his hand as he walks by and the contact immediately soothes you; and if the relief in his eyes is anything to go by, the simple touch does the same for him. “Stay with me.” Your mouth is dry as you swallow against the lump in your throat, and you wonder if you’re crossing a line. Is it too familiar? Too soon after what you’ve been through? You just know that you don’t want to be alone. “Please.”

Will anything ever be the same?

His eyes seem just a bit bluer when he looks to you in surprise. “Really? Are – are you sure?” Bucky stares as you slowly nod. “I thought…I didn’t want to assume –“

There’s a comfort in knowing that you both seem to be on the same page. “I’m sure. Please…stay.”

Bucky nods and begins to undress as you finish slowly. He keeps his eyes averted as he steps into the shower.

Suddenly feeling inexplicably shy, you follow him through the frosted door. The shower is huge - more than big enough for two and is actually quite lovely. Two of the walls are made of glass, and oversized beige tiles line the other two walls up to the ceiling, with coves intermittently placed for holding whatever would be needed for bathing. Along the far wall is a built-in seat, also tiled – it makes sense, considering who this shower was built for. Even an Avenger might not have the energy for standing in a shower after a mission.

Bucky takes your hand and leads you under the generous spray, letting the hot water rinse over you both. His hands lightly trail up and down your arms as you both stand, silently facing the other. After the space has become thoroughly steamy and you’ve begun to relax, he pulls you out just enough so he can start shampooing your hair, and good lord you’d forgotten how wonderful his hands feel massaging your scalp. He doesn’t stop, even when rinsing.

“Mmm…Buck, you missed your calling as a hair washer.”

“Yes, I think you might have mentioned that before,” he chuckles as he smooths in the conditioner, then twists your hair to rest atop your head to give the conditioner a chance to do its thing. He squeezes some bodywash onto a poof and begins washing your shoulders and back, arms, and legs as you remain still, taking in the familiar scent and touch.

You take his hands in yours when he circles around to your front. “I missed you so much, Bucky.”

“My god, Sweetheart,” his voice is so tight you almost can’t understand him, “I missed you so fucking much, and I was so scared, I couldn’t breathe without you.”

You brush the wet hair out of his eyes, and before you can overthink it you pull him into a kiss, attempting to say everything you can’t manage to express with words into it. You keep your arms around his neck, breaking the kiss only to whisper, “I love you so much, Bucky. I love you so, so much. I…Thank you. Thank you for going back into hell to get me.”

Bucky whispers your name, just as lost for words as you. “I…always,” he finally manages. “I’ll always come for you.”

Then he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. This kiss is emotion, but it’s also fire. You tighten your arms in the impossible effort of getting closer to him, as though the immeasurably thin sheet of water separating you two was too much.

There’s nothing to hide it when Bucky hardens against you, and a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying fades away.

He still wants you.

When he pulls back to look at you there’s a desperate, hungry glint in his eyes that you’re sure mirrors your own. He kisses you again, slower this time, pushing you back slightly so the back of your head is under the spray. Bucky continues kissing you as he rinses the conditioner from your hair, turning what was just moments ago a comforting, soothing gesture into something completely different.

Even with the hot water streaming over your skin, goosebumps rise at his needy touches.

Bucky’s hands are everywhere as he again guides you backwards; when the back of your legs hit the shower seat you lose your balance, but of course he doesn’t let you fall. Two hands grip your hips, steadying you before pushing you down gently until you’re perched on the bench and he’s kneeling in front of you. You wrap your legs around his torso, trying to pull him closer as he kisses your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, your lips. For the briefest of moments you can feel his cock nudging at your entrance, but then Bucky grips your thighs, loosening himself from their grip and sits back on his heels before lifting your injured leg over his shoulder.

He scooches you forward to the edge of the bench and dives in. There’s no teasing, no waiting. He begins licking and sucking like a starving man, periodically growling quietly, pausing only to gently but firmly push your thighs further apart. Your left hand goes back to support you, while your right hand goes into his hair. You don’t need to guide him – he knows damn well what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it – but you need as much contact with him as possible.

Staring at the sight of the man before you, you watch, mesmerized, at the powerful muscles in his shoulder and back pull and stretch under smooth and scarred skin as he feasts. Bucky chases you mercilessly into an orgasm, not giving you a chance to come down from one before he’s working on another.

“Bucky…fuck…Buck please…I can’t...oh my fuck please stop…” You’re just about cross-eyed from bliss, but if he doesn’t stop there’s a good chance your brain will short-circuit if you come for a fourth time without a break.

At first you’re not sure if he hears you, but finally, reluctantly, he pulls himself away, gently guiding your right leg off his shoulder as he straightens from a position that would have been uncomfortable had he cared. Kisses are planted on your thighs and belly as his hands roam, giving you some time to catch your breath before his mouth is on yours once again.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart, so fucking much,” he mumbles against your mouth, as if pulling away any farther would cause you to disappear on him again. A wickedly satisfied grin graces his lips, “And I fucking missed that. Now hold on.”

You throw your arms around his neck as he grabs you by the ass to pull you to him, standing while he does so.

“Show off.”

Your breathless smirk just makes him chuckle darkly. “Oh Doll, I happen to know you like this.” His irises have almost completely disappeared, and it seems impossible but your heart beats even faster in anticipation. He’s not wrong.

Secure in his hold on you, you pull him in for another searing kiss as he carefully exits the shower and brings you back into the bedroom. Not caring that both of you are still dripping wet, he tenderly lays you on the bed.

The mood shifts with his gentle actions. Bucky cradles himself within your thighs, nuzzling your neck and planting soft kisses as he goes. The next time his lips meet yours it’s sweet and unhurried. His right hand takes yours, holding it firmly just above your head as your need for him explodes. There are tears in his eyes when he slowly pushes in; he fills you, and for the first time in weeks you feel complete. His strokes are slow and languorous, deep and deeply satisfying, allowing you to feel every inch of his movements while he feels every inch of you.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours, and neither of you can look away. He’s giving you everything he is, everything he has been or will be, and trusting you to do with him what you will. You do the same; offering anything less would be an insult to the way you feel about him. You surrender completely, knowing and accepting that you’re safe and that he can and will handle whatever your future holds; he’s not going to give up on you any more than you’d give up on him.

You’ve never felt so secure.

“I love you.” The words are spoken at the same time, and you can feel his pieces filling the cracks left by your ordeal. In this moment you feel whole, almost as if you’d never been broken. Bucky stares into your eyes with an expression of wonder, and you know damn well that your own face reflects the awe you feel at the enormity of the bond you share.

It almost seems against his volition when he begins to thrust faster. Your body betrays you, too, movements matching Bucky’s and encouraging him to move even faster, harder, deeper. He obliges, rolling his hips into yours as your free hand roams at his back and shoulder and ass, desperate to touch as much of him as you can. He tightens his grip on your hand and presses it more firmly into the mattress to keep you from sliding back and hitting the headboard.

Bucky’s getting close – you can hear it in his uneven breathing and feel it in the way his rhythm occasionally falters. You are, too, and of course he knows this. He hasn’t forgotten how to play your body, how to get you to respond in any way he pleases. And right now he wants to you to come. With his eyes, he demands it.

You couldn’t deny him if you tried. Stars explode and you clutch him to you as tightly as possible; he keeps going as long as he can, but your release soon sets off his own. Hand in hand you ride the violent waves of bliss and pleasure, knowing nothing but each other in this timeless moment.

When the aftershocks subside, you pull your hand from his and begin to softly run your hands up and down his back as Bucky trembles in your arms. Neither of you pulls away – this is where you want to be – and a smile grows as you catch your breath.

This man.

“What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours?” Bucky’s voice is quiet but rough.

“Huh?”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “You’ve got a goofy grin on your face. Just wondering what you’re thinking.”

You huff a laugh as you come clean. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“I got the trifecta. Didn’t think it even existed, but it does.”

“The trifecta,” he repeats, waiting for your explanation.

“Mmm hmm. I found a man that loves me.” You begin tracing the lines of his face with your fingertips.

He turns his head to press a quick kiss to your palm. “You’re damn right you did.”

“He’s hot.”

Bucky smirks.

You run your finger along his lower lip. “And…he knows how to fuck.”

Bucky ducks his head as he lets out a gentle laugh. His lips meet your neck, then your ear. He takes his time, but between kisses and nibbles he whispers, “Then I guess we both got the trifecta. And don’t you dare roll your eyes, cause it’s true – you love me, hell, you trust me which is so fucking incredible to me, you’re gorgeous, and I will freely admit that I can’t get enough of this…I’m insatiable for you and what you do.”

The hot whispers at your ear send a chill through your body, defeating any chance you’d have of successfully rolling your eyes, especially considering that they’re currently busy rolling back into your head with bliss. His hands start to wander again, and your breath begins to quicken when you feel his softened length still inside you begin to twitch.

Supersoldier, indeed.

“How is your thigh feeling,” Bucky murmurs between dropping hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulders.

“My what? Oh…yeah…it’s good. I’m good.” He’s doing a fine job of distracting you from any lingering discomfort…or rational thinking. Not that you’re complaining. “Everything’s, uh, everything’s good.”

“Mmm…” is the only acknowledgement you get as he continues moving his mouth against you, tasting whatever his lips and tongue can find.

It’s clear where this is going…until your stomach growls. Loudly.

Traitor.

Bucky pulls away slightly, obviously biting back his laughter. “So…I guess it’s time for a break.”

“What? No,” you plead, pulling his lips to yours. You’re pretty sure you have him convinced, until another rumble comes from your tummy. “Dammit.”

“Sweetheart, you need to eat.” Suddenly he’s all business, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before gingerly pulling out of you, causing you both to wince at the sticky feeling. “And get dried off. The last thing you need is to catch a cold.”

Well, he’s not wrong. Now that he isn’t covering you with his body, your damp skin is definitely feeling the chill, especially where the comforter is wet. In hindsight, maybe the thirty seconds it would’ve taken to dry off wouldn’t have been too much.

Then again…nope. Totally worth it.

“I think I need another shower,” you mutter while you shift to sit at the side of the bed.

“Sweetheart.” There’s no mistaking his tone as he drapes a dry blanket over your shoulders; Protective Bucky has been activated.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I need to eat,” you grumble, “and I am hungry. But I’m also unmoisturized and frizzy. I need lotion, leave in conditioner, and my face cream, or I’m going to uncomfortable and itchy until my next shower. And I’ll look like I just stuck my finger in an electric socket.”

Bucky barks out a laugh as he helps you to your feet. “You’re not that frizzy.”

“Yet,” you counter. “Friction is not a curly-haired girl’s best friend. You remember what happened the first time we did this, right?”

Bucky’s eyes drift and his lips curl into a ridiculous smile as he thinks back to the day you’re referencing. It was the second time you’d showered together – he insisted he needed a do-over and you sure as hell weren’t going to complain – and you hadn’t had time to finish your routine afterward because the boys woke up from their nap. Bucky would have covered you, but he got a call from Steve. All you could do was toss your hair into a bun and go with it.

It took Bucky over an hour that night to detangle your hair before bed.

“Okay fine.” He starts stripping the wet bedding from the bed and smirks. “You’ve got 5 minutes, and then it’s off to the kitchen to eat.”

“No,” you scoff, and immediately counter, “20 minutes. I need to rinse off, too. You’re messy.”

Bucky straightens indignantly, but you see the teasing light in his eyes. “I’m messy? I might be the cause, but you’re the reason. It takes two to tango, Doll.”

Your laughter echoes through the room; the normalcy you’re feeling right now is almost making you giddy, and the lightness is clearly reflected in Bucky’s entire being. “Yeah, I guess it does. I wasn’t complaining, by the way. Just stating a fact.”

He rolls his eyes before disappearing into the bathroom, returning a moment later with fresh blankets and a grin. “Ten minutes.”

Shaking your head, you watch his still naked form begin to make the bed while you head to the bathroom. God, he is a thing of beauty. “Fifteen,” you call through the open door. He doesn’t reply, he just laughs.

Bucky joins you in the bathroom a few minutes later with a pile of clothes for you both. “Take as long as you need, Sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to the back of your neck as he wraps his arms around you. “Just keep in mind that every time your stomach growls, I’m gonna think you’re ready to pass out. You’ve had IV fluids but haven’t eaten since we were on the jet.”

You smile at his reflection in the mirror as you lean into him, intensely grateful for how much he cares for you and for getting back these little moments with him. “I won’t take too long, I promise. I just want to get comfortable.”

Eyes soft, he nods.

You both exhale.

Tags: @hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire @learisa @widowvinter @kaaatniss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @denialanderror @k-nighttt @givemethatgold @manders2487 @afangirlrambles @polkadottedpillowcase @bluebrrn @saysay125 @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508 @scarlettsoldier @natalie-nightcourt @im-beautifully-sewn @lovemarvelousfics @feistytravel @tbetz0341 @nearly-whitches @jamie-leah @shliic @dessinemoiunehistoire @lucywinchester2000 @solarbarnes @a-proper-chicken @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @part-time-patronus @natashasnight

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #my work #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#WEMtbB #Part 51

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daniella-the-travella · 7 years

Text

Machu Part Two

...continued from Machu Achoo

Friday. Machu Picchu day. I woke up and realized that I set my alarm for the wrong time. I had a whole 10 min to get ready. I was feeling much better thank goodness! I still had a small cough and some sniffles, but nothing that was going to keep me from exploring one of the wonders of the world! We got on a bus that zig-zagged up the mountain to the main entrance of Machu Picchu. We first went on a 2 hour guided tour. The Incas were amazing engineers and architects. They built their structures to withstand earthquakes. 60% of Machu Picchu is the foundation! The buildings were made of huge heavy stones. It took a lot of man power to get the stones to their places. For the important buildings, the rocks were shaped to fit together perfectly and had smooth surfaces. When the guide showed us the type of rock used to carve the stones, I got all nerdy and asked what the hardness of the rock was on the hardness scale. Everyone laughed because it is not a normal question. I actually really wanted to know. Only someone in a science field would think to ask that sort of question. The guide said he would try to find out, but he never told me. I tried to look it up later, but couldn’t find an answer that made sense online. I guess i’ll never know. After the tour, we took a short snack and bathroom break. You have to pay one sole every time you need to go to the bathroom, and there are no bathrooms inside Machu Picchu. If you ever go to Machu Picchu, plan accordingly (especially if you have a tiny bladder). Then we were off to the Sun Gate! It took me 43 minutes and 23 seconds to hike it (yes I timed it) including a few stops to breathe. At the top, it was amazing! I highly recommend loads of sunscreen for this trip. At this point, it was already too late for some of my friends. They were already looking like tomatoes, and it was only noon!

Eating a Cliff bar on a cliff!!

Hiking back down from the Sun Gate was much easier than hiking up, though it was hard on the knees. We heard about another trail that led to an Incan bridge, so we decided to find it. The first part of the hike was very steep, and then it was flat the rest of the way. At one point, there is a little stand. You have to sign in and out of a giant book at the stand. We were confused at first, but then we realized why they were keeping track of people. One side of the path was a huge wall from the mountain, and the other side of the path was a cliff with no handrail. I would not recommend this hike if you are afraid of heights. I am happy to say that I safely signed out of the book.

The people I was with wanted to go do more hiking, but I was starting to feel worn down. It was a lot of moving around after staying in bed all day for 4 days. I chose to sit on a rock by myself for a while, and it was the best decision I could have possibly made! Sitting there with Machu Picchu to my right, mountains all around me, the hot sun beaming, I was able to clear my mind and soak it all in. It was so peaceful. I could have sat there for hours.

The view from my spot.

Eventually, another group of my friends came by and we left Machu Picchu together. Back down the winding road we went. I was surprised by how fast the bus drove. It was fun but terrifying at the same time. After a little break and some mango juice, we got back on the train that brought us up to Machu Picchu town. It was dark this time, so I didn’t get to admire the scenery, but there was plenty of other entertainment. It reminded me of the polar express! Instead of hot chocolate, they served pineapple and passion fruit juice. We also got scrumptious pizza as a snack. Morgan doesn’t like pizza, so I happily ate her slice as well. When I looked out the window, I saw one of the prettiest moons I have seen in a long time. It was shining bright and blue among the stars. The moonlight glimmered on the stream that ran along the tracks. The few clouds in the sky were also blue against the black sky. I wanted to take a picture, but the camera on my phone couldn’t do the sight justice. I wish I was a better painter, so I could paint exactly what I saw. When we got to our new hotel back in Ollantaytambo, I was so ready for bed. I checked the step tracker on my phone, and it said I had walked 12 miles in the hot sun.

The next morning I woke up, ate breakfast with my professor, and went to the market. There were vendors selling backpacks, sweaters made from alpaca, blankets made from alpaca, little trinkets, scarves, and much more! I decided it would be a great idea to get a blanket for hammocking when I get home. I knew I had to approach the situation differently than what I am used to in order to haggle and get the best deal. I walked up and asked, “How much does a blanket cost?” The woman told me 70 soles. I made a frowny face and said, “Agh, too much, I’ll keep looking.” The woman then had a very concerned face and told me, “No no, I will give you a special price, 60 soles.” I then told her that a lady on the other side was also selling her blankets for the same price, and I would keep looking. I was having fun. I had no idea what the other women were selling their blankets for. She then looked me dead in the eye and said, “okay, 55 soles.” That sounded great to me! I picked out the style I liked the most, and off I went. I got the blanket for less than 20 USD.

Then we all got on a bus and drove to a chicha brewery. Chicha is an alcoholic beverage made from fermented corn. This brewery was named the best in all of Cusco. I tried some, because it is legal here, and did not like it very much. It smelled very much like corn. We all learned how to do cheers in Peru. “Arriba, abajo, al centro, al dentro,” which translates to “up, down, to the center, to the inside.” There was another drink which was the same thing but with strawberries mixed in. I liked this one much more. It is considered a lady’s drink after all because it is fruity.

The next stop was a buffet. The food there was amazing! My favorite was chicken with elderberries. After stuffing myself to the brim, Morgan and I went to the yard where there was a big garden, swing, river, and alpacas! We had a great time!

I tried to tell the alpaca what to do, but it did not want to listen to me.

Next stop, Cusco, Cusco. After dropping off our bags at the fancy hotel and being told which streets were unsafe, I went to Papacho’s with a few friends. It is a restaurant that has mac and cheese, or as it says on the menu, mac and chez. I ordered a big milkshake and sweet potato fries. While we waited for our food, we got to color on the place mats!! The milkshake was amazing! Halfway through our meal, music started coming from the Plaza de Armas. There was a parade! We went to watch for a while once we finished and paid for our meal. We noticed that Peruvians never rush you out of their restaurants. They will let you sit and talk until you demand the check. The parade was fun to watch. The dancers had sparkly costumes with puffy shoulders. One of the bands played Despacito, a song that Morgan, Camille, and I are trying to memorize just for fun. This parade was the longest parade I have ever seen! It was never ending! We left before the end. I went home and worked on homework the rest of the night for my chemical engineering class.

This is the picture I drew while waiting for my food.

Having fun!!!

Plaza de Armas during the parade.

The next morning, Morgan, Dana, and I woke up earlier than everyone else to go to church. We went to a cathedral where mass was given by the bishop! It was a more simple church than some that I have seen in Poland. There were giant paintings on the walls with gold foil frames. No photos were allowed. The mass was in Spanish. My favorite part was giving the sign of peace after the Our Father. Instead of saying “Peace be with you,” we said, “a paz.” Translated, it means “to peace.” When we left our seats for communion, we returned to find someone had taken our seats. It was okay though because it was just about the end of mass. The church was completely full with many people standing. Thanks to the Spaniards, many Peruvians are catholic.

The three of us in front of the cathedral.

The next thing on the agenda was a tour of the city. Honestly, I did not get much out of it. I was exhausted from the whole trip and being sick. I still had a cough, and Danny kept offering me Ricolas. During the tour, there were more parades going through the town. During the whole month of June, they celebrate Cusco’s independence. Confetti was all over the streets. The tour ended at a big market with fresh bread, fresh cheese, fresh meats, fresh fruits, more alpaca wool clothing, and all things Peruvian. I tried a new exotic fruit. It tastes like a mix of pineapple and mango. I still can’t decide if I liked it or not. Then I also bought myself some fancy pants that I am wearing right now. They are really fun to wear! The rest of the afternoon involved eating an empanada, watching another parade, getting kicked off the grass, and waiting to go to the airport. We flew back to Lima and rode a bus home. It felt like I was hit with a brick when I walked outside and smelled the city air again. The mountain air was so clean. I prefer clean air with hardly enough oxygen to breath over nasty smoggy air any day.

This trip was beautiful in so many ways. It was a real struggle being sick all along the way, but I am glad that I pushed through it. I am sorry for the post being so long, but I don’t want to forget a thing! I would love to go on a trip like this again someday!

It says MTU for Michigan Technological University.

#Peru Machu Picchu Study Abroad MTU

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