#i can't find what Brooklyn's last name is help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crackedpumpkin · 11 months

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|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ꜰᴏᴜʀ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Getting kidnapped was not on the checklist today.

Saving an old lady from a speeding car? Check.

Show up to class barely on time? Check.

Grab a burrito on the way to meet the girl who needed his help from yesterday? Check.

But getting kidnapped and signing a contract he never wanted? Not on the list. Never was it on the list.

Miles stares at the girl before him for a second, then down at the contract in her hands. He contemplates using his webs to grab and tear it up so it’d be rendered useless.

Unfortunately, she seems to have sensed his intentions because she turns around and waves the contract in front of him with a teasing smile.

“Sorry dude, I already took a photo and sent it to all my emails. Living in the twenty-first century really has its perks.”

Damn it.

How did he even get into this situation in the first place? Maybe it was when he didn’t knock on wood after he talked about nothing bad happening with Ganke. Yeah, it was probably that. But it still doesn’t completely explain how you found out about his identity. He’d been so careful too!

“How’d you even find out?” He finally voices his curiosity, unwrapping the sub in his hands and taking a bite. He pauses, looking down at it with intrigue. It was given to him as an apology after you had both left the store, and it’s surprisingly good. He recalls the bemused glance the owner had given them both when he opened the door, only to let her go without another word or further question.

It was almost impressive.

Then again, this is Brooklyn, after all. He'd probably seen weirder.

Now, he and the girl are on the rooftop, the latter sitting down a short distance from him and starting to sketch absentmindedly in her sketchbook. He’s still guarded, having intended to treat her coldly for how she had borderline kidnapped and blackmailed him.

Scratch that; he did, in fact, get kidnapped and blackmailed.

But her calm demeanour throws him off. What was one supposed to do in this scenario? He’d never encountered this before, not even once in the three months or so that he’d been Spiderman.

“Y’know, the usual.”

“The usual?” He repeats, raising a brow before taking another bite. He still has half the mask on, not fully taking it off around her even though she knew who he was.

“Yeah, just did a little digging. Y’know, you’d think you’d be more careful for a superhero.”

“I was!” He defends himself, a sharp edge to his words.

She chuckles, lips pulled into a half-smile as she looks up at him with amusement. “Then you might want to be more careful about how you sneak in and out of your dorm, Morales.”

He flinches at the use of his last name. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

His dorm? Since when was she around his dorm?

“Did you stalk me?”

She looks up again from her sketchbook with an offended gasp, holding her hand over her heart with a frown. “I would never! The only time I ‘followed’ you was when you basically revealed your entire secret identity by very openly crawling into your dorm window. Literally anyone would’ve found out if they were around the area.”

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “So much for secret identity.” He mutters to himself, taking another bite of the surprisingly addicting sub. The bread is fluffy, albeit slightly soggy from the sauces that coat the vegetables and meat. He tastes a hint of cinnamon, arching a brow in intrigue.

Little odd, but it works.

“It’s good, right? Mr Perez does the best in the city.”

He merely shrugs in response. He hears a soft sigh, choosing to stare at the citizens on the sidewalk below.

“I’m sorry,” He hears her speak up, turning around with a sceptical frown. An apology? Now?

“If you’re sorry, you’d forget my identity and tear up the contract,” he mutters.

“Yeah… I can't afford that.”

“Why not?” He’s taken aback by her sheepish smile.

“Here’s the thing… I kinda need you to be my model regardless. I’m an art student in need of a muse. I’ve been in such a slump lately, and I’m a little…desperate.”

“And I’m that muse?” He questions, oddly flattered yet still wary of her true intentions.

She shrugs. “Yeah. Look, you’ll get it once you see this.” She rifles through her backpack, grabs a large sketchbook and hands it to him. Instead of taking it from her like a normal and trusting person, he uses the web shooter on his wrist to spray a thin line, tugging it toward him. It dangles from the web, and he double-checks it in case it’s another trap.

“There’s like, a mustard stain from years back, and the white powder is chalk.” Her comment makes him scoff, already having recognised the powdery residue. He flips it open, scanning through the pages.

The first few are rather good, with sketches of people he doesn’t recognise. The shading is done well, putting his own to shame, actually. He continues to turn the pages, the next few a lot more colourful with the added use of watercolour pencils and charcoal. A soft coat of bright dust rubs off on his fingers, and he rubs it off quickly before continuing to look through the sketchbook.

He notes the slight wince on her lips in his peripheral, taking great care to ensure he doesn’t accidentally tear the pages. If she’s really an art student, then from one artist to another, allowing someone to view their sketchbook — containing their most private thoughts and inspirations, is practically sacred.

And just for that, he pauses eating his sub, wrapping it up and stowing it away for later.

Miles recalls his own sketchbook at home, the first pages already occupied by a half-finished sketch of Gwen. He subtly shakes his head to rid himself of the lingering nostalgia, focusing instead on the drawings before him. He frowns from the sudden and apparent lack of motivation. Though details were technically accurate, it was as if they had no life, just flat, one-dimensional drawings against the blank paper.

His breath hitches when he turns the page to see a full sketch of him leaning against the wall. He subconsciously leans in close, studying the details on his suit he hadn’t even noticed. It’s good. Really good. It’s only half-coloured, but even then, the way she did it can’t help but draw your attention, as if he’d step off the page and give himself a playful salute.

“So?” Her voice is calm. He senses her thoughtful gaze.

“It’s good.” He replies simply. “Was this on the day we met?” He turns the book around to show her the drawing he's referencing. She nods, and he hums in response.

“I need your number, by the way. To schedule our next meetup.” She holds out her phone for him, the keypad on her screen and waits for him to key it in. He stands up, walks over, stops two feet away, and hands her back her sketchbook.

He reluctantly puts his number into her phone. He has half a mind to put in a random number instead, just to inconvenience her. He decides against it, however, and taps away at the keypad.

She’d probably find out his number somehow if he did that.

“May I at least have the pleasure of knowing my kidnapper's name?” Miles asks sarcastically, keeping an eye on her as she continues to tap away at her phone.

“The name’s Ray, Ray Paynt.”

He chokes on his drink.

“What?” He asks through the tissue he grabs from his pocket, wiping his mouth of any orange juice that had spilt from hearing her name. Unique is one way to describe it.

“But you, however, can refer to me as Ray.”

He doesn’t know how to feel.

“Ray, short for Rachel?” He asks. She nods confidently.

“Right.”

She stands up, brushing off the dirt on her pants before sending him a halfhearted grin, and he nods in response. “Well, this has been…fun. But I gotta get home for dinner. I’ll text you when our next meetup will be. See you soon.” She says briefly, heading to the door that leads to the staircase. She opens it, pausing to glance back at him.

“Also, you might wanna check out the side of your head just in case,” she adds sheepishly before shutting the door behind her.

He reaches up to the left side of his head, only to wince when he massages the slightly sore spot. Right. He forgot about that.

Swinging back to his dorm room is peaceful, crossing the familiar well-lit streets and the occasional pickpocket on the way. In contrast to the chilly night air and calm breeze, his thoughts overlap like crashing waves on a once-calm shore.

Who really is she?

What kind of person is she?

Why him?

Even though they had spoken (rather begrudgingly on his behalf) after she knocked him out and made him sign a contract that was surprisingly in his favour, he knew next to nothing about her.

Besides her name, he supposes. But where is she from? How did she find him in the first place? Did the store owner know her?

Is she an enemy?

He sighs, walking under the subway bridge. Whatever she is, he has to figure out if her intentions really are as simple as she says. From one artist to another, he understands having an art block. It’s one of the worst things in the world.

But from one superhero to a civilian, she’s an enigma.

All this thinking was making his head hurt.

“Yo, one pack of the usual painkillers, por favor,” Miles requests upon walking into the small convenience store he frequents. The owner looks up from his phone, reaching down and handing him a palm-sized red box.

“Thanks, Lenny. How much do I owe you for this?” He reaches into the suit’s concealed pocket for his wallet, eager to return and get some well-deserved rest.

“Ten bucks. What’s got you so roughed up?” Lenny asks curiously, leaning over the counter after taking the cash he hands him.

Miles sighs, shoulders slumping at the question. How was one supposed to explain the series of unfortunate events that happened to him in fifty words or less?

“Nothin’ much, just a little tired, I guess.” He chooses his words carefully.

“Ah, I hear ‘ya. I got one regular who’s always walkin’ in here looking for energy drinks.” Lenny chuckles. “Man, the bags under her eyes were insane. Haven’t seen her in a while, though. I’m tellin’ you, kids these days have to rest more, not stay up all night studying. Y’all gotta have fun.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Miles nods vigorously, agreeing with the sentiment a little too deeply. He exits the store with a final goodbye, continuing to swing his way back through Brooklyn.

He crawls up the wall back to his dorm, pausing near the window as his fingertips brush over the edge. He takes a moment to look around and survey the area. His eyes land on the alleyway nearby, in clear view from his current location. If he could see it from here, then that meant whoever was there could see him, too.

“The only time I ‘followed’ you was when you basically revealed your entire secret identity by very openly crawling into your dorm window. Literally anyone would’ve found out if they were around the area.”

He groans, hanging his head.

“Damn it.”

— — — — —

A brand new day always means a brand new start.

In your case, it takes the form of a signed contract, framed and hung on your bedroom wall. You stare at it in satisfaction, smiling giddily at the fact that you had finally, finally, secured your muse.

Even though the method used was a little unethical.

But that didn’t matter, because he signed the contract!

He. Signed. The contract.

It’s set in stone now, and this particular reminder sends a rush of adrenaline through you, the physical contract cementing this fact. It had been a couple of days since the incident, and this had become your new routine every morning.

“Honey, it’s time to wake up!” You’re startled out of your thoughts when your mother calls you from the kitchen, having already almost finished getting ready. All that’s left is to get out of the bathrobe you have on into proper clothes and brush your teeth.

Once done, you enter the kitchen cheerfully, patting the leftover bits of moisturiser into your skin before greeting your mother with a big hug. She laughs as you pull away, raising her brows curiously. “What’s got you in such a good mood today?”

“Not much,” You hum, taking the bowl of stew she hands you and sitting down at the dining table. You begin to dig in, alerted to your father's presence, who walks into the kitchen with a groan.

Your mother hands him another bowl of piping hot stew, the scent of spicy chilli flakes helping to clear his head. He sits down opposite you with a soft grunt, your mother sitting beside him with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask through mouthfuls, blowing on the spoonful of tofu in your hands to cool it down.

“Someone accidentally hit me on the head with a binder at work yesterday,” Your father replies with a wince, sending your mother a thankful smile when she starts to feed him spoonfuls of stew. You watch his hand massage the spot on his head with a tinge of guilt, recalling how you had gotten Morales to be your muse.

You should probably get him a gift as an apology.

“Get well soon, Dad. You should go see the doctor if it gets worse.” You add, placing your now-empty bowl in the sink after the last mouthful.

“Will you be back home for dinner today?”

You pause, tilting your head in thought. “I don't think so. I’ll message you guys if anything comes up, though,” You promise, grabbing your bag and heading toward the door.

The walk to school is as usual, nothing out of the ordinary besides the weather being a little sunnier than normal Brooklyn weather. Luckily, you have your trusty portable fan, using it to stay cool in the heat.

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you take it out to see a new message from Morales.

Ray (Paynt) [ 10:00 PM ]: Yo, you free tomorrow at 3 for our first session?

Morales [ 10:30 PM ]: When you put it that way, no.

- [ Morales ] has changed your name to [ The Kidnapper ] -

- [ Morales ] has changed their name to [ The Kidnappee ] -

The Kidnapper [ 10:30 PM ]: Boooo. I’ll take that as a yes, though. Anyway, meet me at Fort Bridge Park at 3. I hope you like waffles :)

The Kidnappee [ 07:50 AM ]: Who doesn’t?

Ray Paynt. You have to admit, few can come up with such a good fake name on the fly. You mentally pat yourself on the back for it, grinning at how easily he had believed you. Ray, short for Rachel? Absolutely priceless.

“Are you texting your crush or something?”

You yelp at the sudden hand around your shoulders, instantly shoving your phone in your pocket and glaring at Michael’s mischievous smirk. You push your elbow against his rib, but he’s already prepared for your reaction, moving away before he can get hit.

“How’d you even meet, anyway?” He continues to ask, undeterred by your response. You shrug.

“Just ran into him and recognised his face,” You answer simply, entering the school gates together.

“What’s for lunch today, anyway?” Michael changes the subject, already bored with your short responses. He’d probably try to dig deeper into it another time.

“From what Greta told me, it’s lasagna for the special. I think it’s something else for the regular.”

“I don’t know how you got her to do it, but you gotta hook me up with that staff discount of hers sometime,” Michael complains, sticking to you like glue through the crowded hallway as you make your way to your locker.

“Just be better,” You say nonchalantly, reaching your locker and taking out the textbooks you need for the day. You huff in amusement from his eye roll, greeting Nicole with a smile when you spot her a few feet away from you both.

“Hey, you got something here.” You grab a wet tissue from your locker and lean down slightly, using your thumb to brush against the corner of her lips where a spot of grease is, wiping it off and tucking her messy hair behind her ear. You straighten your back with a soft smile, noticing the slight pink that coats the tips of her ears when you do so.

“Thanks.”

“Hang on.”

Pausing at Michael’s words, you watch him lean down, reaching his hand out to try and replicate what you did. Instead, Nicole twists his hand, bringing him to his knees with a glare.

“Don’t touch me.”

“But-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Nicole warns clearly, finally letting go as a sign of mercy. You smile sympathetically, helping him to his feet and massaging the sore spot on his wrist. He mutters his thanks, pulling his wrist away after.

School passes by in the blink of an eye, and you find yourself at the gates ready to leave at Two P.M. Nicole had her chess club — she had a match coming up that she couldn’t afford to lose. You’re more than certain that she never will, having watched her break her opponent down mentally during a previous match. Michael had his neighbourhood basketball game that he rushed off to, promising to introduce you to a new cafe another time.

Cafe. Right.

The plan for today is simple. Grab some amazing waffles from the cafe you’d seen people rave about online, and meet Spidey-Boy at Fort Bridge Park, where you’d chill out and draw him in different poses or something.

You’re still not entirely sure how this muse thing is supposed to go. But that’s okay! You’ll figure it out along the way.

Public transport is a blessing to have. The thought of owning your own car in the future makes you excited. You’d never have to deal with other people’s bad body odour ever again. The lack of hygiene of some commuters makes you determined to push forth a project on personal grooming in the future.

Standing next to a man grabbing the handles in the train, revealing the sweat-soaked spot under his shoulders, only reaffirms this resolve.

You finally hear your stop being called out over the speakers, all but rushing out the doors and inhaling deeply. Your lungs burn from the shallow breaths you took standing next to him, grateful for the existence of oxygen.

Surprisingly enough, Google Maps gets you to the cafe in only fifteen minutes, and you order your waffles to go, waiting patiently in the store while blissfully inhaling the smell of freshly baked croissants and ground coffee.

You’ll definitely be coming here again for a study session.

You hear your name being called shortly after, thanking the server who hands you your order before exiting and heading to Fort Bridge Park with, yet again, the help of Google Maps. Thankfully, you reach five minutes before the scheduled time, choosing to sit down at a random bench and waiting for your muse to show up.

The Kidnapper [ 02:55 PM ]: I’m sitting near the bridge. Hope you’re hungry

The Kidnappee [ 02:55 PM ]: Are you the one looking down really intensely at your phone?

“I am not looking intensely, thank you very much.” You say with a lighthearted scoff once Morales plops down next to you seconds after you read his message.

“Right,” He replies sarcastically. “Where’s the promised waffle? And my ten bucks?”

“Here’s your waffle. Payment will only be made at the end of each session.” You hand him the waffle, and he takes it without complaint, though his eyes narrow at the last few words.

“That’s not what you promised.”

“It’s in the contract,” You reply with a hum, taking a bite and grinning in delight at the fluffy texture. “Eat, eat!”

He reluctantly pulls up his mask slightly, unwraps the waffle and bites down at your strong encouragement, lips pursed as he chews. “It’s…not bad.”

“Not bad? It’s insanely good! No wonder it got so many popular reviews. The kaya in this one is incredible. You gotta try this.” You hold up the half-eaten waffle to him, and he looks at you warily.

“Here,” You tear off a piece of your waffle instead, eagerly holding it out to him.

He takes it. “I think this is better,” He holds up the one in his hand after eating the piece you offered.

“To each their own,” You comment, finishing off your waffle in mere minutes while he’s still slowly enjoying his. You dust off the crumbs on your hands and pull out your sketchbook, making yourself comfortable and crossing your legs before turning to face him.

You notice him stiffening from the sudden attention, chuckling at his reaction. It was kinda cute.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” You assure him, smiling warmly. “Just do what you normally do when you relax or when you’re not off fighting crime in lovely Brooklyn.”

His shoulders are still tense, but he slowly rests against the bench backrest, watching the people pass by. They notice his presence but ignore him in favour of rushing off to their own destinations, as are the lovely people of your city. Some linger around but quickly get bored once they realise that there’s nothing exciting happening.

“So, what’s your favourite food?” You break the silence with a question. You need him to relax so much more than his current self, who looks as if he’d bolt any chance he gets.

“Pasteles, they’re probably the best food to ever exist.”

“What’re those?” You pause, looking up with interest at this new dish you’ve never heard of.

“Oh, pasteles are like, this food. It’s got pork and adobo in it, and it’s just amazing. My mom makes the best,” He answers excitedly, animatedly using his hands to describe the food. You grin in amusement, nodding at his words.

“I’ve never tried them. The closest thing I’ve tried is a rice dumpling.”

“Rice dumpling?” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yeah. Usually, when you hear dumpling, you think, like, gyoza or whatever, but these rice dumplings I’m talking about are on a whole other level. It’s basically pork or chicken, filling in sticky glutinous rice, wrapped in banana leaves in a triangle, and then steamed. It’s so good. I’ll bring some next time!”

“Cool, I’ll bring some pasteles too. But why are they triangle shaped?”

“That’s a good question,” You pause when you realise you don’t know the answer, pulling out your phone and doing a quick Google search. It proves fruitful, with Wikipedia being your one and only saviour.

“Says here that they used to be in bamboo tubes, but they wrapped them in chinaberry leaves so dragons wouldn’t consume them. That’s actually pretty cool. I respect the dedication,” You remark, turning your screen to show him the Wikipedia page. He leans in, scanning the words with an intrigued hum before leaning back.

“Imagine having dragons, though.”

“I dunno, man. I’m talking to Spiderman right now. Dragons aren’t that far-fetched to me.” You crack, watching his shoulders shake with his laughs. You pick up the pencil and sketch as quickly as possible, satisfied with his relaxed state. Quickly finishing it up and polishing a few strokes here and there, you realise you’d gotten so absorbed in your drawing that the sun was already beginning to set.

He’s waiting patiently for you, scrolling through his Instagram feed. You pack your tools, feeling guilty for keeping him here for so long. “Thanks for waiting for me,” you say gratefully, zipping up your bag and standing up.

“Couldn’t leave without my ten bucks.” He quips. Your eyes widen at the reminder, patting your pockets and feeling for the ten-dollar bill stowed away in one of them. Once you find it, you pull it out and hand it to him. He takes it happily.

You’re both alerted to a food truck playing a short jingle over the speakers. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a gelato truck.

“Their stuff’s pretty good,” He says, eyes trained on the sign offering a special discount from now till next weekend.

“Here’s a fun fact: I’ve never tried gelato,” You admit.

He scoffs. “And you call yourself a foodie.”

“I do not,” You defend yourself, lips pursed into a slight playful frown. He strides off to the cart, returning with two small cups. A single scoop of vanilla rests in one, and he hands you the other with a scoop of chocolate gelato inside.

You take a quick bite, eyes widening slightly at the heavenly taste that greets your tongue. You take another spoonful, then another.

“It’s good, right?” You nod vigorously in response, his lips tugging up into a satisfied smirk at your bright smile. The gelato is absolutely decadent and insanely creamy to the point that it feels like you’re just drinking it.

Wait. Creamy?

“Does this have dairy in it?”

A quick nod from him confirms your fear. You look down at the gelato in your hands, taking another small spoonful and sighing blissfully in your head. You sense his eyes on you, filled with slight worry. “It’s fine; I can deal with anything. I’m not that weak,” You chuckle with a dismissive wave of your hand. You both soon finish the gelato and part ways with a simple goodbye.

You’d deal with the consequences later.

At least, that’s what you told yourself before now, hunching over the toilet bowl while cursing out the inferior genes you had inherited from your parents.

So much for being able to handle anything.

— — — — — — — — —

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#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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buckgasms · 10 months

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Let's talk about Bucharest Bucky 😍

So last night I couldn't sleep again so I thought about this and then I kept thinking too much and was awake till 4am but sometimes life is like that....

I've written some of the text like this so you can know what's being said but only the bold is what the reader understands. Hopefully that makes sense!

Running

You have escaped from the Hydra base, running blindly through forests, across railway tracks and through deserted city streets.

Your body is aching and burning from your running, but you can't stop, can't listen to it until you know they can't find you any more.

You've been frozen and unfrozen so many times you have no idea how old you are. You were taken and used and made to be some sort of baby making machine for Hydra. But it never seemed to work.

All you had now was broken Russian, scars, fear and twisted memories that you couldn't make sense of.

Finally you reached an abandoned building and squeezed through the holes in the window, you might have even nicked yourself on the glass but you didn't care. Your blood pumps through your ears and all you can hear is your own heartbeat thudding.

You sneak through the building until you come across a small room. It's got a beat up mattress and a blanket, a little radio and a table and chairs. It looks abandoned so you sink down to the mattress and let your exhaustion take you.

Meeting

You awake suddenly, aware of faint music being played in the background. Your body freezes as you hear soft shuffling.

"Are you awake?" A man's voice asks in the quiet of the room and you manage to turn over, putting your back to the wall and clutching your knees to your chest. He looks almost as nervous as you feel.

"You must be hungry? Come and eat" he places a bag of something on the table and it smells divine. Your stomach betrays you and growls so you tentatively hobble over to the table and take the food. You look inside and grab a fry, it's salty and warm and delicious, but you nibble slowly. Still watching him.

"Do you have a name?" He asked

You nod and manage to whisper it out. You point at him and he takes off the chain around his neck and slides it over to you.

The words "James Barnes.... 1917.... Brooklyn" stand out to you.

"My name is James" he says, almost as if he's telling himself as well. You rub the metal between your fingers as you nibble on the food.

"Brooklyn?" You say eyeing him. "Where?" He smiles and tells you it's America and your head nods because you think you might be from there too! You point at yourself and say "America!" Which makes him smile, which you like a lot.

"You're hurt" he says after a moment and he points to your feet which are quite bloody and dirty. You also have cuts on your limbs from your nighttime adventures. He moves and rustles around the room until he returns with bandages, water and other things from a makeshift first aid kit.

You start to shake when he approaches but you continue eating and stick your left foot out for him to help you. You think maybe he would have done something by now if he was going to hurt you. You can be brave. You can.

"What happened to you?" He asks but you don't understand him. Eventually he points at your injuries and says, "How..." He sets to work and you rack your brain for the words in Russian for your ordeal.

"In the lab. Unfrozen.... Lights go off... Very dark. Noises, very loud. I ran... Got away" your shaking intensifies as you talk so he gently squeezes your ankle as he wraps your foot in a bandage.

"Why?" He asks and you shrug. You had been asking yourself that over and over for the last, who knows how long. He finishes tending to your feet when he asks, "Who?"

Your fingers grip his tag and your hands shake when you whisper, "Hydra."

His hands let go of your foot and he stands up, backing away until he hits the wall. His face is pale as a sheet and he looks like he's going to be sick.

"Hydra had you? Did they follow you?" He shakes and it scares you because he had been so calm before but you don't understand everything he says as he rants, his brow covered in sweat.

You begin to cry, you don't understand and it's not your fault. As tears track down your cheeks he seems to calm down and comes back to you, kneeling and taking your hand in his.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know.... I know Hydra.... We just have to be safe...." He says and squeezes your hand in his. "It's ok, let me think. Eat and I'll think... Just let me think..."

Eventually he removes his jacket and glove from his arm and you are shocked to see his arm is made completely of metal. "They hurt me too" he says softly. You nod and wipe your tears away as he returns to mend your wounds.

Learning

After a few days you settle into a little routine with James. You don't ever leave the room you just stay put and potter about. You listen intently to the radio, trying to pick up more words to improve your Russian when James goes out. He sometimes leaves his little book behind and you study the pages, running your fingers over his neat writing.

He brings food, he seems to like fruit and he shares soft peaches, crunchy apples and juicy plums which you both smile at as you eat.

You managed to learn enough Russian to insist he gets a mattress for himself after spending a week sleeping on the cold floor. When he was out you arranged them so your heads were next to each other in a little L shape.

Whatever Hydra had done to him it must have been awful. He wakes often at night sometimes shouting at a mystery spectre. It scares you at first, and you would lie dead still until his breathing returns to normal.

But as time goes on you feel braver and reach a hand out to him, pressing on his shoulder and whispering "I'm here". Words he taught you when you woke him up with your cries in the night. It seems to soothe him quicker and it makes your stomach ease when he relaxes at your touch.

Tonight he takes longer, shakes harder and you notice little tears slipping down his cheeks. Feeling brave you crawl off your mattress and perch on the side of his. Your hand rests on his tags and you rub them between your fingers.

"James Barnes.... 1917.... Brooklyn"

You whisper it over and over again, his hand grips yours and his breath finally evens out. You shiver in the cold and he pulls you down keeping you close and your eyes slip closed as your body warms up in his arms and your body relaxes.

Moving

James decides one morning it's time to find somewhere else to stay. "Never linger too long" he says as you help him pack up a few little things and you smile at him.

"Never linger" you say in a gruff voice at an attempt to mock him and he smiles, walking over and nudging you with his hip. It makes you giggle and he smiles more.

He brings you to a little apartment block and walks up to the fifth floor. It's a dingy little place and you don't feel very safe but you know being with James it'll be ok.

You help him cover up the windows and clean the room. He moves the bed into the kitchen as you scrub the sink clean, noticing there's only one now. It makes you feel....something.

He goes out again and returns with some essentials. A few more clothes, some fresh bedding and some food. He also pulls out a pot plant out of his rucksack and he turns almost beetroot red as he slides it across the table towards you.

"I can't buy you flowers. But I can buy you this..."

You smile and shuffle round the table sliding your arms around his waist. He presses his lips to your head and you both stay there for a moment, before going back to your chores.

Summer

As the heat builds in the city you feel braver about being outside. Sometimes you don't go out together so he has sorted out a plan in case anything goes wrong.

While he does his thing, you do yours. You spend time at the nearby library and take books home to read with James. You sit in his lap and run your finger along the page, following the words. He holds you close and rubs circles in your skin, soothed by your soft, determined voice as you learn more and improve everyday.

"That was great" he says softly as you close the book and lean back, his lips just inches from yours. You hesitate for a moment before leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. It's electric and then he's pressing his lips against yours, sucking and wrapping you up closer as you whine in his mouth.

You shuffle around a bit in his lap before you are straddling his hips. His metal hand grips at your waist as his flesh hand strokes your cheek. Your fingers grip his face and you lean in for more.

It's suddenly boiling and you pull off your dress and tug at his red shirt until he drags it over his head. Your hands skim without hesitation across his skin, loving everything you see, wanting him against you and closer than you've ever been.

"Beautiful" he whispers as he dips his head down to take your nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly as you tug at his hair and moan. He lavishes attention to you until you become impatient and needy.

"James please" you whine and he finally relents pushing you backwards and laying you down in front of him. He takes a moment removing his jeans and underwear as you lay there, unable to move. You feel scared all of a sudden as he climbs over you.

"Talk to me" he whispers softly as his nose runs over your face and he presses kisses to your cheeks.

"M'scared" you mumble as he gently presses his body down and covers you in his warmth. He soothes you, reassures you and relaxes you until you need him all over again. He chuckles as you kick off your underwear and drag him back on top of you, his thick length pressing against your stomach as you kiss each other with abandon.

"I love you" you whisper as he sinks into you and he exhales a smile. "I love you too"

When your bodies are worn out you lay, wrapped in his arms, a cool breeze dancing over your skin as he kisses your forehead. Suddenly into he dark he mutters,

"Bucky... I'm Bucky"

Loss

One day everything goes wrong. You come back from the library and see the apartment block surrounded by police and army types in tactical gear and guns. Some men are being carried out on stretchers while others head inside.

You almost drop your stack of books but manage to keep walking as you feel panic set in.

Like you've practiced, you walk for 20 minutes towards the local park and you sit in the bandstand for an hour. Then, leaving the books behind you walk for another half and hour and go to the train station and buy a ticket. After the train departs you walk to a coffee shop 10 minutes from your apartment and wait there.

You were hoping Bucky would be there. That was always the plan. You kill time and regroup together later. But as you sat there and waited it was clear he wasn't coming.

Was it hydra? But you had been so careful not to be found.

When the cafe was closing you didn't know what to do so you did the thing you shouldn't do. You headed back to the apartment. It was totally deserted from military activity so you snuck in.

As you climbed the stairs you noticed broken bars on the staircase. Neighbours were attempting to fix their broken doors and dust and the smell of gunpowder was everywhere.

Finally you reached your door. Well what was left of it. The room was in chaos. Bullet holes everywhere, the bed ripped to shreds and a telling hole in the floor where Bucky kept his getaway backpack.

You managed to reach the bed and collapsed into it, sobs wracking though your body. He was gone. Someone had hurt him and taken him from you. And now you were all alone again.

Steve

A few days later you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. You ran into another room but you were spotted and heard a voice say, "Hey!"

You hid behind a wardrobe and a tall blonde man walked into the room. He looked a bit worse for wear and desperate as he looked at you.

"I'm Steve. Rogers. I'm a friend of Bucky."

You had definitely heard that name before. Bucky talked about Steve all the time, and now you looked at him, it was definitely Steve Rogers. Bucky had pictures in his little red book.

"Bucky told me to find you. He's safe, he's with me. He told me he wouldn't go any further without you, so please, please come with me..."

Throwing caution to the wind you removed yourself from your terrible hiding place and nodded. He gave you a moment to grab some belongings and change then you were on the move.

He led you on a short walk until you reached a little blue VW. Another longer drive until you reached a miserable looking warehouse. But you didn't care because then you saw him and you ran as fast as you could to Bucky, jumping into his arms and sobbing.

"Dudes on the run and he still finds a girlfriend?"

That was Sam, you learned later and apparently he and Bucky had met before, but the less said about that meeting the better.

Parting

Your heart hurt as you said goodbye to Bucky to leave with Sharon Carter. You didn't want to be away from him, or for him to be in danger. This all felt wrong and unsafe. What if you were found by the wrong people?

He pressed a kiss to your lips and took off his tags, placing them around your neck. "I'm coming back for these, and I'm coming back for you. I can make a difference and knock out Hydra just that little bit more. It's for us."

You smiled stiffly as tears clung to your eyelashes. He kisses you again and holds you tight. "I won't be long doll, I promise."

Endings

After the fight that left Bucky without his arm and damage to egos and friendships, Bucky and you were hidden in Wakanda. It was a paradise for both of you.

You were left to your own devices for a good while and you'd never felt so at peace. Mornings were spent lazily kissing each other as the sun warmed the little house you occupied. You had a small garden to tend to and Bucky herded goats. Children often came by to gawk at you, but eventually they got more involved in feeding the goats and helping you with your planting. The evenings were a mix of good food, warm fires and making love.

Eventually he was prodded to try and remove the trigger words which you added your own encouragement to. It took a lot of work and pain, but one night he was finally free. In fact you were both finally free....

(and then endgame never happens and they all live happily ever after 😫)

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky fluff

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itsgoghtime · 7 months

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Here You Come Again

CW : angsty hurt/comfort (hurt part doesn’t last very long), Ray is a little ooc again, Ray being the sweet honey saccharine boy that he is (it’s his favorite time of year)

Words : 3842

"Do you ever wonder if the universe brings people together?"

"Do you ever wonder if the universe can pull them apart?"

"Nah, that's improbable."

1989 - New York City

There's always something about autumn that inspires magic in the soul.

Maybe it's the changing leaves.

Maybe it's the events.

Maybe it's because I was in love once during this season.

Definitely not that last one.

Granted, I had always loved autumn. The colors change into deep and rich tones that just draw the eyes in. The smells, the sights, the fact that my entire wardrobe that had only really ever consisted of sweaters finally came into play.

Autumn was just the best season.

It was. Now, I just connected it to someone who was no longer around. Didn't help his favorite holiday was Halloween.

After the success of Ghostbusters saving New York (and covering it in marshmallow), Ray and I had dated steadily for some time. A few years. Until, Ghostbusters went under.

"Ray, please. There has to be something we can do..."

"Hun, I'm sorry. There isn't... the business has gone under - I can't ask you to stay here, when I can't provide for you. You deserve someone who can."

"Ray, I don't want to leave - I'll find another job, work as many hours as it takes... please, don't end this between us."

Ray shook his head, letting go of my hand with tears in his eyes.

"I can't."

"Ray, I don't want to be with the business. I want to be with you."

He couldn't even face me when I walked out the door.

It had been two years since I had moved into a little apartment upstate. I found a job proofreading and editing books.

This fall - I was finally working up the desire to go out and do stuff again. Governors Island, the Jack O'Lantern blaze, maybe a haunted house, if I could convince myself I could do it alone. I couldn't let my hurt heart dictate what I was doing anymore.

Todays adventure, the Brooklyn Book festival.

My eyes were as big as dinner plates - I was absolutely amazed at how many books there were, as I had been every year. I took my time meandering, running my hands along the different covers and buying a few every now and then.

I came across a booth with all sorts of paranormal books. It made me smile, remembering how much Ray loved this sort of stuff. I looked through a few of the books before the person running the stand approached.

"How can I... oh my gosh, is that...there's no way..." The familiar voice said, calling my name and I froze.

I looked up and saw Peter Venkman. Just who I didn't want to run into.

"Hey, Peter. Long time no see."

"Yeah, that's about right. Good heavens woman, you've grown up so much!" He laughed. Peter, from the beginning, had taken it upon himself to be an annoying older brother, even though we were only a few years apart in age.

"Yeah, tends to happen to a person when you don't see them for a long time." I chuckled with him.

"How have you been? What have you been up to? Why haven't you come to visit?" Peter was asking interrogation questions at lighting speed, and I answered as short as I could, trying to keep up with him.

"Ray should be back soon, wanted to go find a hot chocolate stand he said you had gone to a few years back. Said they had..."

"...apple cider doughnuts..." I finished for Peter, my look becoming distant. He was still talking about me? "I think I'll just buy this book, if you don't mind." I handed Peter cash, which he took and let me take the book.

"I'll go find him - he'd want to see you." He was absolutely oblivious to my anxious expression - which was normal, for him anyways.

He turned around, and I bolted. I could hear Ray's voice approaching, and heaven knows I didn't want to see him yet. It was enough to see Peter. But Ray?

I immediately returned home, knowing that Peter would look for me throughout the festival to bring me back to the booth.

Arriving home was like retreating to a safe room. I leaned against the door, curling up at the bottom as I slid down.

There's no way.

I reflected back on conversations with Ray - about the universe and it's influence on people meeting.

We had gone over different theories - religions, philosophies, even just theories regular people talked about - soulmates, those sorts of things. Luck versus fate versus no sort of outside influence.

I didn't like thinking about the fact that we had concluded that conversation with the thought that maybe - just maybe - the universe had brought us together.

And then, consequently, that same universe seemed to tear him from me. Or was it just us, denying the pull to each other?

I didn't know anymore, as I sat with my back to my door.

———

Over the next week, I tried to forget about my interaction with Peter. I dove into my books in the evenings, as usual. The paranormal book sounded oddly familiar as I went through it's pages - I discovered the author had consulted with Ray and Egon on their research.

I put the book down.

Why did it seem that even though I had gone two years, without any sort of contact or closure - and now, as the wound had finished healing over, it was opened right back up with one conversation?

I couldn't quite put it together.

In the morning, my coworker came into my office, giggling.

"What's up?" I asked, not looking up from the manuscript I was looking through.

"There's someone here to see you. Says it's important."

"Oh, yeah, I was going to have a meeting with th..."

"No, someone else. It's not your author conference." She laughed again, stepping aside.

Ray Stantz.

In my office.

My eyes slowly moved over him, trying to convince my mind that he was real. His hands shook slightly with the yellow flowers in his hands, and that same soft, nervous smile was on his face.

I was in shock for a moment, and stood to meet him.

"Hey." I whispered, a smile finding its way to my lips.

"Hey yourself." His voice was just as gentle as I remembered.

My coworker skipped out of the office, leaving Ray and I to stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. He finally came out of his trance, and chuckled a little.

"These - are for you." He handed me the flowers and I smiled.

"Thanks." It took me another moment, but I set the flowers down. "Stantz, why are you here? Moreover, how did you know to find me here?"

"Well, it's a pretty simple story, actually. Peter mentioned he saw you at the Brooklyn Book Festival that we used to go to every year. He said you didn't give him a lot of details about what you were doing, so in true Venkman fashion, he looked you up. Found out where you were working, the usual." He looked so guilty - even though he wasn't the one to blame.

I had to laugh at his expression, which seemed to ease him a bit.

"Venkman... that little gunner snipe."

"Funny you say that, those were my exact words when I found out he had invaded your privacy like that." He chuckled.

"Ray, it's alright. I knew by the look in his eyes when I ran into him - he wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd be mad."

"I couldn't be, even if I tried."

Our laughter ceased, and then, it became a little awkward.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Ray."

"Nice to see you too." His voice was quiet, like he had been before he had asked me out for the first time. He moved to leave my office, before turning around in the doorway.

I should have known.

"Hey, can we catch up sometime? Meet up for coffee somewhere?"

I smile, trying to hide the excitement that his question just brought me.

"Yeah, that would be good."

Before Ray could respond, Venkman was in the doorway with him.

"Hey you! Good to see you all set up in your office!" He called with a jovial tone that was laced with sarcasm.

"Hey Peter. So stalking people is your new hobby, eh?"

"No, just stalking you for one of my best friends in the whole wide world." He clapped Rays shoulder. "Even when he didn't ask for it. I'm an under appreciated talent, you know!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my office, I have a conference soon."

Peter chuckled and blew me a sarcastic kiss that I pretended to catch and threw it back at him. Ray went to go with him, but I called to him, and he stopped to look at me.

"I'm pretty booked up until Thursday - but you could come and pick me up from my apartment at 6 and we can catch up then. If you're not busy, that is."

"Thursday works perfect. I'll see you then." His smile brightened and that familiar sparkle came back - I stood in a little shock as he walked out the door.

———

I found myself watching the clock on Thursday with impatience. Time wouldn't move any faster, and I was only halfway through the day.

Unable to focus on my manuscript, I sat back in my chair and let myself think.

I couldn't believe myself.

I ran into Peter Venkman once. Once, mind you.

And a week later, Ray Stantz showed up unannounced at my office, asking me to catch up.

I should have been mad. I should have been pushing them both away.

But... I couldn’t.

There's something about this whole situation that I just...

Yeah, Ray Stantz waltzed right in the door, just like he had done so many times before, and he wrapped my heart around his little finger.

I looked back up at the clock. It's 4:30.

I scowled. Of course, I just had to think about something other than work and now, work is almost over.

Should've done that earlier.

——

5:55. I'd been pacing my apartment for fifteen minutes.

I had arrived home from work at five, showered, dried and recurled my hair, spent fifteen minutes deciding what to wear before settling on my favorite sweater - the cream one with the little orange and red leaves on it - and sweatpants and sneakers.

5:57. The doorbell rings.

I rushed towards the door, and then took a minute to collect myself. He didn’t need to know how eager I was to see him. Yet.

Opening the door held the same emotion as opening presents on Christmas. I tried to push that feeling away, but seeing Ray in his button up and jeans wearing that leather jacket I had always been obsessed with...

It put me over the edge. I knew exactly what was happening.

I was falling for Ray Stantz all over again.

"Hey, sorry, I hope it's okay that I'm a little early." He nervously chuckled, and I had to pull myself out of my trance to respond, almost a little too late.

"No, no! That's totally fine." I chuckled, not able to hide my stupidly big smile. It seemed to ease Ray, who smiled back.

"Oh, good."

"Where did you want to go get coffee?" I asked, trying to calm my heart down.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go get cider at that stand we used to go to every year. If that's okay, of course." I took note of the blush that appeared on his cheek as he said this.

Little did he know, my stomach started boiling with butterflies.

I nodded softly in response. "I'd love that."

He offered me his arm, which I took, and we began to walk down the street towards the Ecto-1.

"I asked Winston if I could borrow his car, but he said he was going to a drive-in movie upstate and needed it. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring Clarisse on this excursion."

"Ray, it's alright. I've missed the old gal." I squeezed his arm, trying to let him know he was doing alright by me. It seemed to have worked, because he stopped apologizing for everything.

He opened the door for me, like the gentleman he had always been, and went around and climbed into the front seat before driving away.

All of our time together was the happiest I had felt in a long time. The most unadulterated, genuine happiness.

The cider was good, but it didn't compare at all in sweetness to Ray. I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until I spent a couple hours with him.

On the way back to my apartment, the two way radio in Ecto-1 buzzed. Ray answered it, still laughing at something I had said.

"Stantz here."

"Ray, there's a call that just came in. It's in your area, would you be able to answer?"

Ray looked at me, wearing his leather jacket that he had insisted putting on me when I got cold, and his heart fluttered. There was guilt in his eyes, and he shook his head.

"No, I can't tonight."

"Ray," Peter's voice chided. "I know you're on your date with your little friend, but it'll be just like old times if you go. Come on, I don't want to go on this one tomorrow cause it's out of the way from the rest of them on the schedule. Please?"

I looked at Ray, who just kept looking more guilty by the second.

"Hey," My voice caught his attention. "It's okay, we can go. I'd love to see the gear in action again." I didn't tell him that I also just didn't want him to leave yet.

Ray's eyes lit up, and he answered Peter.

"I'll be there."

Within just a few minutes, we arrived at the apartment complex of whoever had called. I watched Ray put the Proton pack on, and my breath hitched in my throat. I had seen him do this a hundred times before, but it was just so much more attractive every time he did it. This instance was no different.

Without warning, he held out the trap, which brushed my hand slightly, pulling me from my lovesick trance again.

"What?"

"Do you wanna come? It's easier with two people." His hand was still outstretched with the trap. I smiled, and took the trap from his hands, which seemed to make him happy.

We were buzzed up to the apartment, and the owner explained to us that their rug had taken a life of its own and was trying to wrap itself around anyone that entered the apartment. Ray assured them we would take care of it, and they thanked him, going to their neighbor's apartment to find refuge.

Ray turned to me before we went into the apartment. He pulled a pair of goggles that had been attached to his pack, and began to put them on my head.

"Helps so you can see the trap better than I'll be able to when it's open. Just switch the button when I give you the signal and we should be good to go. Easy as pie."

I smiled, feeling him adjust the goggles to fit my head.

"Alright."

Ray turned the proton pack on, and for a moment, just looked at me in the goggles. His eyes sparkled with affection before he slowly turned the doorknob.

At first, we didn't see the rug. But sure enough, it was hiding in a corner. Ray smiled at me, and I held the trap, ready to roll it across the floor on its little wheels when he was ready.

His proton stream wrestled with it a few times - slime covering us both at different moments. But surely, he caught the entity in the stream, and I rolled the trap over and opened it up. It swallowed the ghost, leaving the crumpled rug on top of it.

We stood there for a second in shock, staring at the limp rug, before beginning to laugh.

I stood up, and just like second nature, we hugged each other as we laughed. It felt like old times, like Peter had said it would.

After a minute or so, we pulled apart, both blushing profusely.

"You... uh... you did good with the trap." Ray said softly as he looked at his feet.

"You did good with the proton laser beam... thing..." I looked over at him, and we both laughed again.

The car ride home was just as fun as the rest of our evening. We talked about how the call went, how the evening in general went, and we laughed as we compared how much slime we both had.

"Oh, Ray... your jacket..." I gasped when I realized it too, was covered in slime. I looked at it where I had put it in the backseat of Clarisse.

"It's fine - it's been through a few calls before. Doesn't hurt it any, especially..." His voice went quiet. I tilted my head, furrowing my brow in curiosity.

"Especially what?"

Ray thanked his lucky stars it was dark, because his blush deepened. "Especially because it's being worn by someone beautiful like you."

I bit my lip, smiling widely. Realizing it was a little awkward again, I diverted the conversation to when he had worn this jacket on other calls. He excitedly told me about his recent adventures with the jacket, and even a few without.

He arrived at my apartment, and opened my door for me again. We walked arm in arm to my door, and my heart sunk a little. I had so much fun, I didn't want him to leave.

I turned to look up at him after I unlocked my front door. I picked a piece of slime out of his hair - his hair was still as soft as I had remembered.

"Thanks." He chuckled.

"No, thank you. For an extremely fun evening." I practically whispered. Despite my better judgement, I cupped his cheek in one hand and kissed the other, lingering for a moment. I noticed his hand came to meet my elbow before I pulled away.

I took a step back towards my door and smiled at both our blushes.

"Same time next week?" I asked, my brain screaming at me for being so forward.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Ray smiled widely at me. "You have a good night."

"You too." I watched him walk to Ecto-1, and watched him wave at me before driving away.

I was smitten. Head over heels in love. Again.

The next couple weeks, I found myself having Ray over more often than just once a week. We spent a significant amount of time together, when I wasn't working and he wasn't on a call. But sometimes, he would bring me lunch at work, or we'd go out together, and we'd get to see each other then too.

Things remained neutral - we weren't holding hands or anything. My heart ached for it, but I wasn't sure how he felt.

One evening - a Thursday, to be exact - Ray appeared at my doorstep after I was home from work. I had opened the door to see him in an orange flannel - one of his favorites back when we were dating, because I had told him I loved it.

"You'll want to wear a sweater. That cream one with the leaves that you love would work just fine." Ray stated, trying to act nonchalant, while his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Where are we going?" I called from my room. I decided to wear outfit I had put on for our first... excursion. I couldn't bring myself to call it a date, because he hadn't mentioned that it was.

"It's a surprise..." His voice just rang with suspicious happiness. Stepping out of my room, his smile only widened when he saw my outfit. "We're practically matching!"

I chuckled. "Yeah, we are."

"You don't get motion sickness, right?"

"No...? Why...? Oh." I laughed a little harder when Ray blindfolded me. He picked me up into his arms under the premonition that 'I don't want you tripping'. I forgot how strong his arms felt as I was in them. It made me sad when he put me in the car and buckled me in, because I didn't get to be in his arms anymore. Heaven knows I wasn't going to voice that, though.

I heard Ray go back around the car and get into the drivers seat.

"Comfortable?"

"As much as one who feels like they're being kidnapped can be." I chuckle. "If I throw up later it is totally your fault."

He just laughed, and put us in motion.

I didn't get sick like I thought I might, and soon, he unbuckled me and picked me back up into his arms.

"How long do I have to wear the blindfold for?" I asked, laughing a little more.

"Not much longer." He held me a little tighter, walking a short distance before putting me back down on the ground. Still standing so close, he took my blindfold off and leaned down towards my ear.

"Welcome, to the Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze."

My eyes adjusted to the light, but when I was able to focus, I gasped excitedly.

I was in the middle of it all. The lights and the pumpkins were fantastic. The smell of pumpkin flavored things surrounded us, and it brought such nostalgia. I turned to Ray.

"This... this is where..."

"Where we had our first date. I remember." Ray's expression was soft as he looked down at me.

I looked up at him, the nostalgia and the longing and the love written all over my expression.

"Letting you go was the worst mistake I've ever made. The last few weeks, I've been happier than I've been in a long time. I... I want to ask you if you'd consider dating me. Steady. Again."

I smiled bashfully, and I looked at my feet for a moment.

"Ray Stantz, you've had me since we got slimed on that call together."

Ray's smile widened, but his eyes still held some anxiety. He didn't say anything for a minute, but it didn't bother me. I stepped forward, cupping his sweet face in my hands as the distance between us lessened.

"Now, you just stay right there, because I am gonna love you to death."

Our lips finally met - after a month of fantasizing about it, he kissed me just like I had imagined, but better. His arms came around me, closing the remaining distance between us as my fingers combed through his soft hair.

The Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze had been a success this year, at least according to Ray.

#ray #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz #ray x reader #ghostbusters #reader insert #ghostbusters two #dan aykroyd #halloween oneshot #spooky season

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trashlama · 11 months

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Heeeeeyyyyy.... guess who's ADHD can't let them write for shit?~ This bitch✨~

I suuuuuucck guys I know! I did a poll and everything just so I would have to write some of these! I just couldn't help but get side tracked.... My brain is in the LMK and Spiderverse fandoms!!! Though I will say I basically got this Rise Donnie x Big Mama Assistant req almost done. Almost I say. We'll see if I post it in the next two days and not something else random instead.... I suck lol

Anyways— here's my 3am thoughts from the other night that I'm finish up tonight ironically at 3am again. Soooo bare with me these are basically a bunch of summaries/plots/not fully flushed out possible one shot ideas I might do. Probably could've re-read it a couple more times buuuuttt it's about to be 4 now so....

I hope you guys enjoy!

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

+++++++++++++++++++

Sooooo I was going through the Across the Spiderverse tag(specifically Miguel O'Hara) because you know he's hot. Priorities— Anyways— I kinda had an idea. Brahhzz what if I just took the whole Miguel kidnapping his dead wife/lover's alternate dimensional copy deal that everyone has been throwing around and introduced a new take on this tale?

We all know that the Spiderverse is very open to a wide selection of possibilities and versions of Spiderman and we're all aware that the same thing applies to other characters as well. Soooo who said that Y/n has to be a civilian/or a version of Spiderman for this idea to work?

My fellow peeps I introduce to you Earth 2099 Miguel O'Hara x Villain/Alchemax worker/Morally Grey scientist Reader!

I can kinda see this playing out in a few ways.

1.)Villain reader investigating the strange phenomenon that occurred a couple months before hacking the multi verse and stirring up trouble. Miguel intervenes and takes what he wants.

For the last year since the bizarre phenomenon in downtown Brooklyn you've been stirring up more trouble than you typical due to collecting the materials needed for your "experiments" to figure out what that phenomenon really was and what the hell was Alchemax —your ex-employers— were up to with your research. With some finessing of the illegal kind you figure out what the corporation was up to. Before being fired you had discovered the existence of the multiverse however before you could investigate any further you were let go. Now that you have your research back you're able to Doc Octo this shit and break into the multiverse. If you could pull this off nothing was stopping ya' from fulfilling yer goal and maybe scoring some fame while you were at it. After some convoluted ass science mumbojumbo. You manage to Doc Octo this shit and break into the dimensional web that held the spider verse. Inside the alternate universe you immediately start messing up shit straight off the back as soon as you fly through the colorful portal. Miguel is quick to pick up on this anomaly and sends some Spiders out to handle the issue. Long story short— they fail. Forcing Miguel's hand to go and correct the anomaly himself. Only to find that it was you. Her. His dead wife/or dead lover. The only problem is that you're obviously not a good guy. Miguel being Miguel will try to rationalize it to himself as he demolishes your equipment/suit that you're not his Y/n, you're a villain, he can't keep you without risking a whole universe just for his selfish desires. However as he stood over your defeated helpless form. He decided. If one anomaly can exist and not destroy existence why can't another? There were ways around this. There had to be. Holding you in his grasp again the hero wasn't sure if he could let you go once again....

2.) You're an inventor/scientist that works at Alchemax/or your another rogue scientist . Either way you're looking to get into the Spider verse. Since the phenomenon from a couple months ago you've been intrigued by the strange occurrence. The news labeled it a "strange weather occurrence" however you knew that wasn't the case. If you're working at Alchemax you've known about the phenomenon since the beginning. If you're an inventor/scientist (with some grey morals) you found out after some research and trespassing. Either way your tinkering pays off thanks to the help of some stolen tech from Alchemax and an interesting glitch from the hacked tech. You eventually have yourself a fully operational universe hopping watch. And where do you end up? Right in the middle of Earth 2099. Miguel is immediately alerted of your presence. An obvious stranger to this Jetson world you find yourself quickly apprehended by a small group of spiders/or Miguel. Either way the red & blue leotard nosferatu as soon as he catches sight of you the dude is all over you. Miguel may be a man who would like to believe he is in control of himself and his rash decisions buuuuttt that's gonna be a nah. Never had the Spiderman ever expected to speak to an alternate version of his dead wife. Especially in person. Every time he's stolen a glance it was from a distance or behind one of his various monitors. He couldn't risk ruining another verse. However somehow regardless of his attempts to keep his desires at bay you've still managed to break past that last thing that was keeping you from him. Now that you're here the thirty year old wasn't sure if he could let you leave him again...

3.) What if instead of breaking into the multi verse. Alchemax employee/Morally Grey scientist Reader! is lured into the multiverse? In your home verse the Miguel who you had married was dead. Struggling with piling debt and depression you choose to bury your problems under research into the weird phenomenon that occurred in downtown Brooklyn a few months before. During this time of trial and error you figure out how to access the multiverse thanks to some misplaced Alchemax files and risky choices. The documents aid in building the device that would aid in your plan to find your ex-husband's alternate universe copy. All the while you were walking right into Miguel's clutches. Cause like you Miguel was having an equally hard time getting over his family's death. Although they are gone the widowed father couldn't help but, search for his loved ones amongst the various worlds that rest at his finger tips. He needed them. He needed you....and you needed him. Although you guys weren't from the same earth you both can replace the pain that was birthed from this tragedy and regain something more. Just be a family.... Hopefully you want to play his game because Miguel couldn't watch from the sidelines any longer.

Alrighty guys that's all for now! Sorry if they're a little all over the place. Regardless I hope you guys liked them and I hope you guys have a good week!

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ohworm-writes · 11 months

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alrighty, here goes. there was this one time a firefighter came to my school years ago to do one of those job presentations. And apparently firefighters have to write a goodbye letter in case they die while on the job. they always have it kept up to date, stored in their locker with rest of their gear. but just imagine firefighter! schlatt writing his goodbye letter or better yet, someone reading what he wrote.

Anon, I was getting on a flight after I read this and I looked high I genuinely cried so hard. I didn’t know that was even a thing and it makes me so emotional about it.

Firefighter!Schlatt who spent weeks trying to put even one thing down on his letter. The only thing he wrote consisting of “Engine Co. 219 Ladder 131, Brooklyn, New York City. Firefighter Jay Schlatt.”

Firefighter!Schlatt who has over 100 scrapped letters to signal his goodbye, too stuck on critiquing what would make the letter sound more professional or, simply better.

Firefighter!Schlatt who leans more on a short and sweet letter as opposed to a long and wordy one, but writes one that crosses over 11 individual pages nonetheless.

Firefighter!Schlatt who thanks every single one of his family members, no matter the relationship, and writes the longest paragraph for the one person who got him into computer related things and signs off the letter to them in specific.

Firefighter!Schlatt who names every single person at the station and thanks them individually with so much heart that even he sheds a few tears at his own words.

Firefighter!Schlatt who grabs the two kitties' paws who he's called his own and paints them black, pressing them into the paper with their names written over them, hearts and renditions of them around the paws.

Firefighter!Schlatt who draws a little portrait of himself at the end of the letter, simple smiley faces decorate around it and a (poor) rendition of his gear.

Firefighter!Schlatt who writes down every struggle and success he has dealt with in his letter, some of the words and sentences blurred for the water of his tears disturbing them.

Firefighter!Schlatt who, once he finishes his letter, refuses to touch it after it's done, less he need to update or change it in the future, and shuts his locker with such force and goes about his business as usual, as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

Firefighter!Schlatt who spends months refusing to touch or even look at his letter, stuffing it in the back of his locker behind and under a random assortment of things.

Firefighter!Schlatt who spends all of this effort to put the letter out of his mind, accidently taking one thing out and resulting in the letter gracefully flying to the floor.

Firefighter!Schlatt who doesn't realize it and leaves to tend to his cats and rest up, leading to one of the members of his crew to come across it- well, at least one of the pages.

Firefighter![X] who finds the first 3 and last 2 pages and nothing more an hour or so later, give or take, being confused by what it was until reading the title of the paper: “Engine Co. 219 Ladder 131, Brooklyn, New York City. Firefighter Jay Schlatt.”

Firefighter![X] who only doesn't want to read the whole amount of pages they have, but can't help themselves as they read their own name and Firefighter!Schlatt's message to them and sobs.

Firefighter![X] who reads through the whole thing and is left in tears by the end of his, moving to clean themselves up before consulting Firefighter!Schlatt.

Firefighter!Schlatt who is disturbed in the middle of falling asleep by Firefighter![X] clearing their throat in front of him, handing him the loose pages with a quiet "I think these are yours... sorry" before vacating the area as quick as the entered.

Firefighter!Schlatt who reads over the first words of one page before shoving them in his pocket, placing his hands over his face and hoping, at the very least, Firefighter![X] won't tell anyone.

Firefighter![X] who keeps their mouth sealed tight with no desire to share a word of what they read.

#Firefighter![X] can be read as either a reader insert or a random character #Either one of Schlatt's friends or something else #I'm trying to appeal to both audiences you know?#SCHLATT FANDOM ACCEPT ME #BUT ONLY IN SOME CONTEXTS #Y'KNOW #YEAH #firefighter!jschlatt #firefighter!schlatt #firefighter jschlatt #firefighter schlatt #fireman!jschlatt #fireman!schlatt #fireman jschlatt #fireman schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt

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k-ki3rd · 11 months

Text

　　　　　　　. . . the universe is cruel !

miles morales (1610) x fem!reader.

✶ : synopses ━━━━ in all universes you and miles fall in love, but due to a failure in that system on earth 42, you lose your miles and spider-man never existed; you take action and end up like the prowler, but you didn't expect to find a thousand miles from another reality.

✶ : warnings ━━━━ slight angst, bad feelings, mentions of death, you know, that can be sad.

✶ : notes ━━━━ seriously, I went crazy when I had this idea! Miles' scene with prowler inspired me (guys, he looks so cute in braids!). sorry for google english!

　　　miles woke up with a start, his head ached and he wondered why he was stuck with a punching bag; maybe it was punishment for what he'd done to peter a few years ago, but it didn't matter at the moment.

he looked around and recognized the place, with memories coming to his mind. he heard footsteps, but his spider-sense didn't alert him, what did that mean?

a figure in intimidating clothes appeared, the face covered with a technological mask; the color mixed with the environment making that experience scarier. At first, Miles decided to remain silent and analyze the situation.

but then a heartbeat and a friendly memory gave him courage.

"why am i here?", he asked fidgeting a little. "who are you?", at that moment you felt a different wave of emotions, because you knew that voice, the sound that made your difficult days bearable.

"i can answer that," you started to say, your suit made your voice change and become thicker and more masculine, a defense mechanism against your pursuers "answer me one thing first: do you know someone named [name]?".

he was scared, obviously he knew who it was, she was his girlfriend, the most loved and protected girl in all of brooklyn, but how would someone from another dimension know about her? "i know… why?" he said, feeling his body shake.

underneath the mask you swallowed hard and your eyes widened, showing through the costume. "oh", "who are you?" miles asked again. it was easier shown than told, so you made the mask come off your face, revealing an image he could never have imagined.

"i'm [name] [last name]," he was totally terrified, his eyes were wide and his heart skipped a beat "but you can call me a prowler".

miles knew it wasn't his girlfriend, since they were different realities, but that moved this boy so much; why did you become the prowler? how had this happened? where was he? "how come… you can't be the prowler", "but i am, since you left".

"to leave? i wouldn't leave you alone, nor would i allow that to happen to you", you swallowed again, after all, miles didn't know what tragic end he had had, and seeing him so close without being able to hug him and say that missing you was killing you.

"it wasn't your choice, much less your fault. i'm the one who caused this." it was fateful the way he left, the gangsters had taken over the streets and leaving the house could be fatal; you and miles sneak out that night to buy groceries at the market, but find guys trying to rob a poor lady.

miles felt bad for not helping, he left you in a secluded place, even though you begged him not to go, and went to where the riot was going on; playing the hero, the boy morales lost his life.

you held your boyfriend's body, disbelieving that it had happened; you cried a lot and the tears mix with the raindrops that fell on you.

"if i hadn't made up the candy thing, maybe he would still be here" you said sadly. "i had no way of knowing, it's not your fault," miles replied, moving the punching bag.

"they are different realities, but you are the same as him", you allowed yourself to sigh for a moment. "lo sinto mucho por eso, (i'm sorry about this) i'm going to let you go", chains were removed from miles; he stretched out his arms and felt the blood flowing normally through his body. miles looked you in the eye, causing some discomfort, since you had already accepted your fate and resigned yourself to losing him forever.

"if it's not too weird, could i give you a hug?", "is this going to make you uncomfortable?", you asked him. miles quickly shook his head. You nodded and agreed to the pet.

when she was in his arms the memories came back, all the happy moments she had with her boyfriend; the songs, the drawings, the conversations, kisses and particularly, the hugs. miles was too affectionate, and he missed that very much.

you cried clinging to spider-man, because you were the last one you would see someone identical to your miles. the boy hugged tighter trying to comfort you; it hurt to see you like this, it hurt a lot, because in every universe, no matter what, he loved you so much.

this immense universe is beautiful, but it is very cruel to you.

　　hey, hey! I'm not new here, i'm familiar with tumblr, but i ended up deleting my old account due to personal problems. welcome to my blog!

#★ ! · 𝑲𝑰𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑪𝑺 #miles x reader #miles morales #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman #fanfic #miles angst #miles 1610 x reader #miles morales fanfiction #romance #marvel scenarios #spiderman x you #spidermiles #prowler #prowler x reader

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arachnicas · 10 months

Text

More Antagonists to Family prompts for Parental Miguel and Miles:

-) When the Spot decimates the Spider Society and destroys the multiverse, Miles wakes up in his room, thirteen years old again, the day before he became Spider-Man. Eager to put his superhero days behind him, Miles does everything he can to avoid his fate and live a peaceful, everyday life with his family. It's too bad that Miguel O'Hara is just as equally determined to force help the kid accept his destiny as Spider-Man.

"Dude, you should be happy. I'm not bitten; Jonathan Ohnn isn't the Spot. I'm not an anomaly. Everyone's happy."

"Everybody's not happy, Miles! There's still Kingpin and the collider--"

"So, go fix it. You're here now. Use your skills to wrangle everyone together and go after Kingpin. Worked well for you last time, right?"

-) A year after defeating The Spot, saving his father from certain death, and burning all bridges, Miles Morales officially quit as Spider-Man, burned his suit, and stuffed the Watch Miguel had given him under his bed, never to be worn. His family is safe, his father is alive, and life is going well. Miles Morales is happy... or is he?

A year after launching a massive manhunt on a fifteen-year-old kid, nearly dying at the hands of The Spot, and being proven wrong by that same kid, Miguel O'Hara is trembling under the weight of his past mistakes and grappling with his grief. Miguel O'Hara finds himself in Brooklyn with an invitation to Mayday's birthday party in hand and a heart full of regrets.

"Peter really wants you to come?"

"So, he sent you instead of asking me himself?"

"I came here of my own accord, and, well, we need to talk."

-) Miles Morales does not arrive on Earth-42, but instead crash lands in a dimension similar to Nueva York but different with its resident Spider-Man, Miguel O'Hara, on a mission to avenge the son he lost at the hands of the Green Goblin. Imagine his shock when he stumbles upon a kid looking like the exact replica of his dead son.

"What's your name, kid?"

"M-my name is Miles Morales."

"My son's name was Miles O'Hara. This is either some fucked up trick of Kingpin's, or you're a doppelganger posing as my son. Either way, I can't let you go just yet. Not when you're bleeding out like this."

#atsv #miles morales #miguel o'hara #fanfiction prompt #if parental miguel isn't your cup of tea just keep scrolling #anyways take your pick everybody!#or add in some ideas!

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marvelogic · 2 years

Text

UGLY LOVE - Chapter 1

a/n: HERE IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF UGLY LOVE!! its finally here!! I hope you all enjoy and if you wish to be tagged please let me know! Sorry for taking so long!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words: 3k+

Summary: When Y/N Stark finds airline pilot Bucky Barnes passed out in front of her apartment door, it is definitely not love at first sight. They wouldn't even go so far as to consider themselves friends.

Warnings: Cursing, Alcoholism, Angst * I think that’s it, if I missed something lmk*

| material list |

| Teaser | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! love you*

"Somebody shot you in the neck, young lady."

My pupils widen, and I quickly turn toward the elderly gentleman wearing a pilot cap. I watch as he presses the elevator button to the next level and faces me.

"Your birthmark." he says.

Out of instinct my left hand reaches up behind my neck.

"They say when you die your birthmark is a symbol of your passing. So I'm guessing you got shot in the neck. At least it must have been a quick death."

A small smile graces my face, but I don't know if I should be entertained or rush to the front doors.

Although his shaky, curvy posture and wrinkly skin, says he isn't a day over 70.

"Are you heading towards the twenty-first floor?" he says while walking towards the cherry red chair in the corner of the lobby. Grunting as he slumps into the chair, giving direct eye contact to me.

This man I barley know, knows what floor I'm heading to, even though this is my first time ever stepping foot into this building.

"Yes...sir?" I say cautiously "By chance do you work here?"

"As a matter of fact, I do"

I turn my head towards the elevator. Thirteen more floors to go. I hope it goes quickly.

"I just push buttons for people to go up and down. Not sure you can call that a real job, even though I've been doing this since I got to that age where they believed I couldn't do much. But I do refer to myself as flight Captain, considering I was a Pilot back in my golden days. Now I send people up as high as 32 flights in the air."

I couldn't help but let a small smile grace my lips when he said that. We talked for a while and I couldn't help but laugh at some of his antics, realizing the elevator doors open. I turn to reach for my bags and look up to him one more time.

"What's your name?"

"Stan Lee, but you can call me Cap." he says "Everybody who lives here does"

"Do you have any birthmarks Cap?" Chuckling he says, "As a matter of fact I do, one right in the ass. That must have been a slow and painful death for me." I couldn't help but laugh and salute him on my way into the elevator doors.

I begin walking into the elevators with my luggage. Heading towards my floor. I didn't expect Tony to be living as an..adult. The last time I visited him he was whoring around with a new women everyday in a small two-story sketchy complex. What I sure wasn’t expecting was a high-rise smack dab in the middle of downtown Brooklyn, Seattle.

As the elevator doors are closing, a hand immediately presses in between causing the door to reopen. A tall rugged man with light brown hair and a stubbled beard entered. "Thanks cap." He says before entering, although I can't see cap I hear him grunt something. He didn't sound so enthusiastic as he did with me a while back. He turns and gives me a knowing smile I know all to well. I see him slip his left hand into his pocket, eyeing his wedding ring.

"Moving in?" he asks, bluntly. His eyes roam my body from head to toe, stopping at my chest. Then back up to my face.

"None of your business." I reply coldly

He laughs

He thinks I’m joking

But there is no way in hell, I'm allowing him to know where I'm going. Especially if he's a married man. I feel bad for his wife.

"I could help with those" he points to my bags at my feet.

"It's fine, I've got it." I look towards the elevator numbers hoping they would move faster.

He reaches over me and presses floor eighteen. Four more floors to go.

The elevator stops at his floor and before he walks out he turns to me. " Catch you later, y/n." he winks before getting out of my view.

I frowned knowing the two people I interacted with know who I am, yet I don’t have a single indication of who they are. Finally the elevator reaches floor twenty-one and I pick up my suitcases and walk out. I begin looking at all the numbers on the doors. I'm not sure if it was 1989 or 1999. As I’m walking a guy passed out in front of door 1989 was in the way of the entrance. While I check to make sure it's the correct number Tony texted me last night, I look down at the guy asleep hoping this isn’t the room number.

Please don’t let it be 1989.

I read the message on my phone and cringe.

Of course it is..

I slowly walk to the door and try to go around hoping to not wake him up. His legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he’s leaning with his back propped on Tony’s door. His chin is tucked uncomfortably on his chest, and he’s snoring.

“Hello?” I say in a whisper hoping to ease him awake.

He doesn’t move

I step back and gently tap on his shoulder with the tip of my toe.

Still…nothing

“I need to get into this apartment.” He groans and slowly opens one eye. He looks at me up and down then he closes his eyes and he begins to snore again. Great.

Tony won’t be back until tomorrow so I dial his number and hear it ring.

“Y/n?” He answers without a hello.

“Yes sir” I reply and I hear him groan on the other side “I made it safely from my trip, but there’s only a slight problem. There’s a guy passed out drunk in front of the door. And I cant make it inside. Um..recommendations?”

“Eighteen Twenty-nine?” He asked “Are you sure you’re in the right apartment?”

“Yes”

“Are you sure he’s drunk?”

“Yes”

“Huh, weird.” He says “ What’s he wearing?”

“What does his clothing have to do with anything?”

“Well if he’s wearing a pilot uniform, he probably lives in the building.”

Oh.

“He’s wearing a dark grey shirt with blue jeans. No uniform.”

“Can you get passed him without waking him up?”

“He would fall into the apartment if I open the door.”

“Go to cap, I told him you were coming.” I sigh, because I just came from a long drive, and what help would a 80 year old man do.

“Just stay on the phone with me, until I’m safe inside the apartment.”

I like my plan a whole lot better. I put my phone between my ear and shoulder. I dig through my handbag to find the spare key Tony gave me. I unlock the door and begin to slowly open it. Except, the guy falls every inch I push it open.

“To bad he’s wasted.” I say “he’s pretty good looking.”

“Get your ass into the apartment y/n.” Tony says

I roll my eyes. He is still the over protective brother, he was when I was younger. When I moved in with him back then, it was constant fights but that’s just any type of siblings to be honest. That’s why I was kinda sketchy on moving in with him. However, I had no time to find a job, get an apartment, and settle into my classes in time. So this will have to do.

I’m hoping we have matured enough. I’m twenty-four and Tony’s twenty-six. And if we can’t act like adults, then we have a lot of growing up to do.

It really depends on Tony if he’s changed, since we last lived together. He was always the protective one around me. He always watched who I dated, who I made friends with, always wanted me home at a certain time, always knew where I was. I guess that’s what big brothers do.

I pull my purse around my shoulders but it gets caught up in my luggage. I slide it off and place it on the floor.

“Tony, I’m gonna have to hang up so I can move him, he’s to heavy.”

“No! Don’t hang up y/n! Stay on the phone with me until you get into the apartment.”

“Okay fine, but your going in the bra.” He makes gagging noises, while I put my phone between my boobs.

“Alright buddy, sorry to disturb you but I gotta get into the apartment.” I crouch down so I’m able to move him to the side, after awhile I move him enough for him to sit against the doorframe, allowing me to push open the door.

As I get back up to grab my stuff

I freeze

I look down

“Let go of me!” I yell, using my other foot to kick him off of me. He’s gripping me so hard I’m sure it’ll bruise tomorrow. While I try to remove myself from his grip, I fall back into the apartment.

“I need to get in there.” he mutters. Just as my butt meets the floor I keep trying to pry him off me. He attempts to push the door wide open which send me into full panic. I pull both my legs into the apartment and attempt to slam the door but I slam it shut on his wrist.

“Shit!” He yells. My foot is pressing so hard against the door, he fails at pulling his hand back to him. I slowly release enough pressure for him to take his hand back and slam the door shut. I’m breathing so hard my heart is literlly screaming at me.

Like I physically hear it saying “Y/n!? Y/n!?” In a deep male voice that sounds all to familiar?

Tony?

I forgot about my phone and pull it out of my bra.

“Y/n! Answer me! Damn it!”

I wince at his aggressiveness and bring the phone up to my ear.

“Tony?”

“Jesus Christ, y/n! You scared the hell out of me!!”

“I’m fine.” I say breathlessly “I locked the door, and I’m in the apartment.”

I get up from the floor and begin to move inside the apartment. Until I go to a halt. I realize what I have left outside in the hall.

“Um…Tony?” I pause “I may have..sorta left some of my belongings outside…” silence…that’s all I hear for a while. “What did you leave outside?” He sighs into the phone.

I don’t want to answer him but I have no choice. “My purse..” “Why is your purse outside in the hallway!” he says “..and the key to the apartment.” I ignore his previous remark. I hear him sigh “Jesus Christ y/n..”

“And my luggage” I say in a low voice. He groans. “Let me call Bucky, see if he’s home yet.”

“Wait…who’s Bucky?”

“He lives across the hall from us. I’ll give him a call, but whatever you do, don’t open the door!” Tony hangs up and I slide down the wall, next to the door waiting for his call.

Two minutes later, Tony calls back

“Hey?”

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

I wonder why he always says my name when he calls me. I mean he called me in the first place.

He lets out a sigh “What’s wrong?” I ask

“I got a hold of Bucky.”

“Great! When is he coming? Is he gonna help me get my stuff?”

Silence, followed by a long sigh

“Not exactly,” Tony says “I actually need you to do me a HUGE favor…”

I drop my head against the door. Living here with Tony will consist of a lot of favors, considering he’s doing me a huge one for letting me stay here.

“What do you need?” I ask him

“Bucky kinda needs your help…” he trails off

“The neighbor in front?”

Tony let’s out a big sigh “ I need you to open the door and let him in…let him crash on the floor or the couch. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll be sobered up and he’ll head back to his place.”

I shake my head although he can’t see me “ What kind of apartment complex do you live in? Do I have to come home expecting to be assaulted, by every drunk man who happens to be passed out in front of your door?”

Long silence “He assaulted you?”

“Well no…assaulted is a strong word. All he did was grab my ankle.”

Tony sighs on the other end of the phone.

“Y/n, please just do me this solid favor and call me when you get him and all your stuff inside…please.”

“Ugh fine” I tell him before hanging up.

I put my phone on the kitchen counter and make my way back to the front door unlocking it. The minute I open the door the drunk guy..I mean Bucky has his phone on his shoulder and it slides to the floor.

“You’re not Tony??”

“And you must be Bucky…” I mumble more to myself then to him

“I’m your new neighbor, Tony isn’t home right now but I’m going to get you inside.”

I shove him by his shoulders so his back is against the wall. I attempt to get him up but he weighs a ton. So I grab him by the arms and drag him inside.

After what felt like hours his body is in the hallway of the apartment complex. I walk back outside and grab all my things from the floor and head back in, locking the door on my way.

He hasn’t moved an inch from the floor, so I set my things down and get ready to move him to the couch.

“Okay, this isn’t easy so when your sober enough you owe me big time.” I tell him after some time. I swear he’s taking all my energy out of me but eventually, I get him in the couch and head to the shower.

About fifteen minutes have passed when I come out to check on Bucky. I head back to the living room and he’s gone. I walk to the kitchen and Bucky is there hanging by a threat off the kitchen island on the edge of the stool.

“Bucky?” No answer.

I walk closer to him and tap his shoulder and he nearly falls to the ground but I’m quick enough to put his arm over my shoulder.

“Alright buddy let’s get you back to the couch.”

“Bucky” he slurs.

I look down at him confused and he mumbles

“My names Bucky.” I hold in my laugh while we head towards the living room “It’s Bucky, not buddy.” He mumbles.

“Okay Bucky, let’s get you back on the couch.”

The second I sit him on the couch he looks me dead in his eyes. His eyes are Marian blue like the ocean. I could stare at them everyday, all night and never get tired of it.

“Okay Bucky, you have to get some sleep.” As I’m walking away he grips onto my forearm tightly causing me to a halt.

I try to pull away but fail miserably considering he is way stronger then I am.

“Natasha, don’t,” he says sounding so desperate trying to pull me with him on the couch.

Sighing “I’m not Natasha,” pulling from his iron grip.“It’s y/n.”

I go to the room to retrieve a pillow for him. I return handing him the pillow only to watch, he’s now on his side with his face against the cushions. He has a deadly grip causing his knuckles to turn white. I though he was gonna throw up. Only, I was wrong.

He’s not sick.

He’s crying.

Violently.

So hard I can’t even hear him let out a single sound.

I’ve only known the guy for a couple minutes, but he is obviously devastated. My first instinct is to walk away and give him some privacy, but my heart is telling me I need to stay and comfort him somehow. My whole life I’ve been good with avoiding peoples problems and dealing with my own, but he looks so vulnerable right now.

I lower myself to my knees inches away from his face and tap his shoulder. “Bucky?”

He slowly lifts his face from the cushion and inhales deeply. His eyes are blood shot red and he looks broken. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or his result of crying. “I’m so sorry Natasha.” He looks me dead in the eye and reaches for my hand. Then with his other hand he reaches to the back of my neck and pulls me in for a bone crushing hug.

I don’t know who this Natasha chick is, but he must have hurt her and vise versa. “I’m so sorry.” He says pulling me from my thoughts.

I don’t know what’s going on but he’s hurting really bad, and if he’s hurting real bad, then she’s probably the same way. I want to look through his phone, find her name and give her a call. Maybe she could help make amends with him. Instead, I grab the pillow I brought earlier and put it under his head.

“Go to sleep Bucky”

His eyes are so full of pain. “You hate me so much, it’s all my fault,” He releases a heavy breath “Please, don’t leave me.” His eyes finally fall shut and he releases a shaky breath.

“I’m not going anywhere” I say faintly, although he’s already asleep. I wait a few minutes before I pull myself from his embrace.

Although, he’s asleep he somehow looks like someone who’s world just crumbled on him and is in immense pain. His face is scrunched up and his breathing is unsteady.

For the first time, I notice a scar across his jaw that goes down his neck, about six inches long. It stops roughly three inches from his lips. The feeling in me wants to touch it so lightly and trace it, as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. Inestead, I stroke his hair, trying to ease him more in his sleep, even though he probably doesn’t deserve it. This guy may deserve every bit of remorse he’s currently feeling for whatever he did to this girl Natasha, but at least he’s feeling it. I have to give him credit for that.

I get up and make my way to the room to give Tony a call telling him I’m okay and got Bucky in safely.

I look back before I enter the room and I see he looks more relaxed then he did five minutes ago.

Whatever he did to Natasha, at least he loves her enough to regret it.

a/n: and that’s it for chapter one!! what did you guys think? if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!

Taglist

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @themorningsunshine @therealhawkguy

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #marvelogic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female!reader #mcu imagine #fic recommendation

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hamartia-grander · 1 year

Note

Hell yeah i got some recs!! Most of mine are going to be more Hank and Connor or Reed900 centric, so keep that in mind.

From it's Own Wreck by Jivvin is my current favorite! It's a ghost au based on the film Just Like Heaven (2005) and it's full of gorgeous writing and has lots of great moments in it. I can't recommend it enough. It is incomplete, but the author regularly updates and it's a few chapters away from being finished.

Deviating and Solving Crime with 100% Human Detective Connor by CaptainKenway. Exactly what it says. You're solving crime with a 100% human detective, nothing else. Nothing suspicious about him. 0_0 It has some good angst and funny moments, and i really enjoyed reading it.

Detroit 07 by Rhinozilla is INCREDIBLE! It's a 38 part series (i know, im stilling working through it) and it's got so much angst, found family, comfort, crack shenanigans, and just as much plot as there is silly oneshots. It's got some OCs in it that are amazing and fit so well into the story, and it does deviate a little bit from the norm (different name for Nines for example, and no reed900) but it's still really good. Since there are so many parts to it and two of the parts are over 400k each, here are some of the smaller oneshots that can be read easily by themselves:

Color Wheel: Connor sustains minor damage to the hardware controlling his appearance. Everybody in the bullpen is united with one singular mission: do not let Connor know that his hair keeps changing colors.

The Breathing Graveyard: The DPD sends Connor to talk down a volatile deviant that's holed up in a trailer near the android scrapyard. It doesn't go the way any of them expect.

Bubbles: Connor gets stuck watching a lost little girl while they wait for her parents to come pick her up at the station.

And then i'd recommend Chapter 51 of Camaraderie if you're up for a wholesome father-son moment.

Through Your Veins by AceEmerson: Nines gets hurt and Gavin takes him back to his apartment to patch them up. There is also an android cat, first kiss, and TENSION

Secret by sv962: Role-reversal Reed900, first kiss. Tis very good. Semi-short at less than 5k and you want a good little role reversal, i recommend it.

The unexpected benefits of having a therapist terminator by texs_sins: Undeviated Nines decides to become Gavin's therapist to help improve their work partnership. 'Surely exposing himself to human emotions won't make a difference, after all nothing has ever made him deviate, right?' it's a fantastic fic and i love their take on Machine Nines and Deviated Nines. (fair warning because it's not listed in the tags, there's a little bit of smut in the last chapter, but easily skippable if you aren't up for it)

Beautifully Unique and Strange by cliffhanging: autistic Connor oneshot because we need more autistic Connor fics

Only Skin Deep by the AsexualofSpades: pre-relationship Reed900, where Nines tries to hide as much of his androidness in response to his anti-android partner five times and the one time he doesn't. It has a nice follow up fic too and i recommend it!

i think that's a fair amount to stop at, oh my god. And thanks again for your recs!! I'm gonna get reading to them tonight!! <3<3<3

Ahhh hell yes! Thank you so much!!

I have read the texs_sins fic (and most of theirs) but I'd definitely reread them bc I love them a lot so thank you for reminding me!

I am ALWAYS DOWN for more father son content with Hank and Connor, thank you SO much. It's so hard for me to find any these days.

Detroit 07... Almost sounds like a kind of Brooklyn 99 AU? In which case idk if I should read it just yet because I am also writing a dbh brooklyn 99 AU and I don't want to accidentally steal ideas or be influenced by someone else, but maybe after I post my own work I'll check it out! (two cakes!)

These all sound super fun thank you for the recommendations!! <333

#Dbh #Dbh fanfic #Fanfic recs #Thank you!!

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sohannabarberaesque · 7 months

Text

Fancy-Fancy (nearly) crosses into Titus Moody

Another cool evening in Hollywood's rank-and-file working-class (or reasonable facsimile therefor) districts finding Fancy-Fancy, the Don Juan of Top Cat's clowder, on the prowl for perhaps his greatest passion: that of satisfying his own inate carnal desires and romance. A slight mist hanging in the air, and the marine layer is unlikely for another few hours close to sunrise.

And what luck hath Fancy-Fancy got: In a back alley close to where a decent view of the HOLLYWOOD sign can be had during daylight hours for the most part, a rather furry-looking cat made her wants and desires known with the inevitable hasty rolling around on the ground, her grayish-white fur being a somewhat confusing blob in the haste.

"And what hath we here, my lovely?" was how the feline Cary Grant made himself evident.

"The name's Skow," replied the rather fur-laden queen in a heavy Down East accent, "as in Skowhegan. As in Maine." Adding, after a short pause, "Making me a Maine Coon."

"A genuine Maine Coon have I as my company!" was how Fancy-Fancy responded. "You much for lobster?"

Skow responded, "Hardly. And forget the stereotypes about we Down Easters taking lobster all the time. Lobster can get to be rather expensive, and besides, while cats may prefer stuff like tuna and salmon, I wouldn't go for lobster. Even the Maine sort. And let's not forget about blueberries, especially in cobbler."

"Though I myself," Fancy-Fancy added, "can't resist Moxie on occasion."

"MOXIE?!!" was Skow's rather stunned response referring to Old Dirigo's rather legendary contribution to soft drinks, adding, "As we say Down East, you either love it or you hate it. And as I understand it, the taste is rather medicinal, if you ask me ... almost like horehound drops."

At any rate, the Maine Coon's tail and rump made themselves known to Fancy-Fancy that she wanted no less than such a flamboyant lover previously of Brooklyn himself to fulfill such desires inherent in her. And in a rather dim part of the aforementioned alley, feline romance became evident in a Don Juan hopeless romanic meeting a rather pragmatic Maine Coon otherwise trying to adapt to Hollywood.

And boy, Fancy-Fancy couldn't help but feel ever more relaxed in releasing of himself in Skow, the whole seeming to last nearly a third of an hour.... though not long afterward:

"Have I ever told you about Choo-Choo?" asked Fancy-Fancy.

"At least these conversations after mating are much better than smoking cigarettes, if you ask me," responded Skow. "Can I get you a bottle of Moxie, even if it tends to taste medicinal?"

Fancy-Fancy concurred, and over Maine's State Beverage the conversation picked up: "I have to admit there, Fancy-Facy," Skow remarked with Down East tartness in the voice, "I've heard much about Choo-Choo."

Fancy-Fancy explaineth: "He's pink for the most part, wears a white turtleneck, and would rather have dream dates with screen and TV stars. Or even those of the stage in Vegas and Reno."

"Yet doesn't manage to win out," Skow managed to respond. "Even if my own kind, mind you, was built for the rather rough shores of the Maine coast, Mount Katahdin and the Allegash Wilderness. Oh yes, and The Beeline between Bangor and Calais--it rhymes with 'Dallas,' I'll have you know."

"All I can say is 'Welcome to Hollywood!" as Fancy-Fancy gulped down some Moxie from his bottle.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @a-gang-of-silly-bananas @groovybribri @jellystone-enjoyer @restroom @archive-archives @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @princessgalaxy505 @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @warnerbros-blog1 @iheartgod175 @theweekenddigest @indigo-corvus @funtasticworld @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic friday #fanfiction #top cat #fancy fancy #feline lovemaking #feline sexuality #maine coon #down east #hollywood at night #back alley #hannabarberaforever

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transraptortrainer · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn unboxes Kenji's feelings about a certain fanny-pack-wearing, Anky-loving boy they know... Inspired by @theswampspirit 's post!

[FANFIC | Rated T for mild language. Spoilers for Camp Cretaceous S1!]

It was yesterday when they had found it. Footprints by the monorail, both that of small shoes and small dinosaur feet, trailed their way towards the main park. It was the first and only sign that their friend Ben had survived the attack by the pteranodons, and was still on the island with them.

However, despite their optimism, the kids had yet to find anything else. Rainfall soon after had washed away what remained of the prints, and even then, they were at least a day behind Ben - wherever he was going.

From the south dock, they traveled north to the golf course and reluctantly decided to settle there for the night. Small buildings, parking lots for carts, and rest stops for golfers dotted the grassy plains here. Brooklyn and Kenji remained at a concrete building, keeping the fire going as Darius and the others searched for supplies in the surrounding shops.

Brooklyn dipped a rag into a small creek and wrung it out slightly. Little bird baths like these were all the kids could manage so far. Unless they found some hot running water at the hotels in the main park, they wouldn't exactly be at their freshest until they were rescued. Not the greatest state of affairs, but "kinda clean" was better than "brachy-behind air quality".

To her right, Kenji sat, exhausted by their long day of travel. Brooklyn thought about the kind of person she had assumed Kenji to be when they first met, and then compared that to who he ended up being. Sure, he was still a jerk, but only sometimes. Perhaps the most surprising change was how distraught the boy had been after the group had lost Ben.

The fanny pack, previously dubbed "dork pouch", was tied around his waist, where it had been for days now. He never removed it. Even when Yaz offered to carry it instead, he refused to give it up. At first it was just...sad...it stood as a reminder that they had lost a friend. Brooklyn had wondered if she was the only one who was tired of looking at it and being reminded of the guilt.

But then there was yesterday. Sammy had spied the prints in the ground and was tied with Kenji for being the first to utter the idea that Ben was still out there. Ever since then, Kenji seemed more like himself. More like everything was alright in his world.

"You really do miss him, huh?" Brooklyn asked, airing her thoughts in the vaguest possible way.

"What?" Kenji replied, baffled. "No! Who are we talking about? I mean, what kind of monster wouldn't miss his friend-"

Brooklyn watched speculatively as the boy floundered at the question. It was hilarious, honestly, because who wouldn't think that Kenji, the idiotically boastful yet resourceful smartass, struggling to respond to a simple question was funny? And let's be real, that use of "friend" felt all the more ridiculous as Kenji's hand instinctively rested on the fanny pack around his waist.

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow and returned to wiping the dirt from her face and hairline. In the past day, the chance that Ben might still be alive felt so much greater. And on another note, it brought her a lot of guilt considering how quickly she assumed the frail, clumsy germaphobe hadn't made it. She had to hope that Ben's feelings wouldn't be hurt. But those signs they had found...it had to mean something.

"I'm just saying, you've seemed in muuuuch better spirits since yesterday," Brooklyn replied, dragging her sneakers in the loose dirt and piling up a shapeless mound. "Out of all of us, I know you were the most...lost by what happened."

Kenji scanned Brooklyn's face cautiously, some form of shock in his eyes. Maybe being raised a rich, only child with absent parents had something to do with it, but he always seemed so surprised by how well everyone read him. Maybe more so by the way no one took his bullshit for an answer.

"M-maybe," he finally said. He rubbed a palm against his neck, his brows furrowing. "Maybe!" he said again, seemingly just in case Brooklyn hadn't heard the first time. He looked at the ground, a smile coming across his face, but only briefly. "I wonder how he's doin' out there…"

Brooklyn rinsed the towel in the stream before snapping it dry and laying it out flat on the rail. "If I know him, he's probably desperately searching for some sanitizer," she joked with a chuckle.

"If he's not camped out by a log he also tripped on earlier!" Kenji retorted, and the pair's laughter echoed around the clearing, accompanied by the crackle of the fire.

However, it wasn't long after that Kenji grew quiet yet again. Brooklyn could tell this was one of those rare moments where he actually thought before he spoke. Leaned over his knee, he propped his head up on his hand. "But I wonder if he thinks he's alone here…"

That's a lot of wondering he's doing, Brooklyn thought. She had half the mind to make a joke about him using his brain too much, but that kind of sarcastic reply seemed more like Yaz's territory. "C'mon, Kenji. If we didn't send help back from the mainland, there's no way his mother wouldn't have. He has to know that."

Kenji nodded slowly, his thumb tapping the fanny pack yet again. "Plus he's got Bumpy, right? Anky-saurus-es or whatever are tough! Not tough enough to take the Indominus, but…" he added.

"Right!" Brooklyn said with an affirming point of her finger. Whimsically, she plopped onto the concrete ledge across from Kenji and observed him more.

Now, she didn't want to come off as too people-watch-y. That couldn't be good for the size of Kenji's head. He'd probably say something about how everyone looks to him for guidance or something else indicative of his constant attention-seeking behaviors. But even now, Kenji seemed well within his own mind.

Still thinking about Ben, she decided.

The two of them were pretty sweet together. Kenji liked to act like he wasn't a fan of Ben's cuddly and apprehensive nature, but surely he couldn't have hated it that much. Why? Because any good content creator knows when there's more than meets the eye. Maybe Kenji just needed a little push to make him realize. And Brooklyn was a master reporter, of course. If there was one thing she knew, it's that people love to talk about themselves.

"Ben's probably thinking of us too, don't you think? If he's out there, I mean," she began, tipping her chin up to look at the glimmering stars. "Maybe even thinking of you right now."

Kenji stirred, a small, tired smile making its way into his voice. "What do you mean? After I was such a jerk to him, I kinda doubt it."

"Really?" Brooklyn turned back to him, surprised.

Gesturing uncomfortably, Kenji seemed to regret his word choice. "Just that...you know, I yelled at him. Said that stuff about Bumpy." His voice trailed off with a surprising guilt. "I - we took him for granted, and it was...shitty of us."

Brooklyn nodded quietly. "Buuut, you also saved his life, you know. I think it's pretty clear that you made him feel safer," she stated warmly, pressing her hands together.

Kenji shuffled awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the dirt. "You think so?" he asked, before quickly adding, "Not that it matters to me, obviously… Wait, did he tell you that?"

Could he have been making it any more obvious? Brooklyn giggled, rolling her eyes. "You could call it intuition, or just common sense, seeing-things-because-I-have-eyes?" She lifted her legs onto the bench, laying with her back rested against the wall. "What do you think he'd be doing if he were here now, with us?"

"Besides churning up some kind of dino baby food for Bumpy?" Kenji said plainly, raising a brow. "He'd probably be flinching at every little noise, just like the rest of us, and clinging to m-" he cut himself off, a first ever blush faintly hitting his cheeks.

"Bingo…" Brooklyn exclaimed quietly with a wink. "Which brings me back to my first question, Mister Kon. You miss him, don't you?"

Kenji frowned. "If he was here clinging to my side, I'd obviously tell him to relax and let up his superhuman grip!" He paused, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Except I am kind of cold anyway, so if he wanted to sit with me then whatever."

"Soooo, you're telling me if we did find him," Brooklyn prodded. "You definitely wouldn't sweep him up in your arms and smile like the kid with the most candy bars on Halloween?"

"No!" Kenji replied indignantly. A moment passed. "...Well. Ugh, don't rule it out, I guess. Should've known you were just trying to get me to admit something embarrassing…"

She smiled softly, placing her hand on her chest proudly. "Well, Brooklyn is the name, annoying pestering is the game."

#benji #camp cretaceous #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jw:cc #ben pincus #kenji kon #i can't find what Brooklyn's last name is help #camp Cretaceous spoilers #fanfic

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itsactuallywhitewolf · 2 years

Text

Escape the Drive

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Word Count: 652

Warnings: A little bit of angst, language, mentions of wiping one's memories, two idiots being in love and too afraid to tell each other

A/N: This one was inspired by the song Drive by Halsey! Also this is set after the events of The Winter Soldier! Hope you like it!

"Are you sure? They'd be looking for you as well...", he interjected with a tight voice, and watched you with his blue eyes, gleaming in the neon light of a diner-sign.

"I know what I'm getting myself into, Bucky. Even if that makes me guilty. Someone needs to have your back at least, right?", you replied, forcing a small smile.

He stared at you for a while before he sighed. He opened the door of the getaway car he got some hours ago and motioned you to get in. Putting your bag in the backseat, you got into the vehicle. He started the motor, driving towards the direction of the highway, and thus also turning the page into a new chapter.

Looking out of the side window, you watched the buildings, bars and broken-down gas stations, which glowed in a sickening yellow tone coming from the old street lanterns. You glanced at Bucky from the corner of your eye, him nervously tapping on the steering wheel, pressing the gas pedal when turning into the highway and speeding up. As he moved the stick shift, you put your hand on his and observed him from the side. The way his hair fell onto his face. The way his jaw clenched. The stubble on his chin, the light illuminating his eyes.

"You know you don't have to do this," he spoke quietly. "Bucky, I've already told you. Hydra is after you. Shield is after you. Or at least whatever's left of them... You will need someone to help you get things sorted out", you replied calmly.

He glanced at you, then moving his glimpse back on the open street in front of him. He knew it was a lie. He knew that you did all of this, because you didn't want him to go. Because you couldn't let him go. You couldn't live with the pain.

But in return, you also knew that Bucky didn't want to leave you. You knew that he was secretly glad you didn't let him go alone, that you followed him to wherever you might be going.

This was just what you did. Thinking about the feelings that you hide. Waiting for a sign. Never leaving this endless drive to nowhere.

"Come with me! They'll wipe you again if they find out you remember!"

He stared at you, unsure of what to do. "Listen to me. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends called you Bucky. You're from Brooklyn. You were a sergeant and soldier in the 107th infantry regiment during the Second World War. Believe me, goddamnit, you have to believe me! I found the files. Trust me, please...", you went on, searching for his eyes. He looked up and stared at you, before he bleakly whispered: "I can't..."

You screamed. Screamed at him. Screamed at him to get his shit together and go with you. But you only did so internally. Instead, you pulled him towards you and kissed him until you heard the sound of voices coming closer. You broke away from him. "Remember me", you told him and rushed down the stairs to the exit, leaving a very perplexed Bucky Barnes in the hallway of the Hadra Basis.

Last week he knocked on your door and asked for help. It was Bucky Barnes who, one year after that kiss, stood at your door and asked for help. He was on the flight and needed a faked passport to leave the country.

And now you were sitting silently in a getaway car, on the way to the airport, missing all the exit signs. And all you do is drive.

The memory is like an aching echo in your head, boring through your hollow chest, spreading over the emptiness. And you can't but think about the kiss that was eternity ago, how his lips felt on yours. Would it kill you if you did it again?

(If you want to request headcanons/ drabbles, my askbox ist still open!)

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x y/n

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

white wolf: “the show must go on”

first part — second part

third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it’s a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 1'9k.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being so innocent gives me life. + he being so damn cute as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Have plans with your girl tonight?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, putting down the weight to the holder, not turning to Sam still doing squats and an awkward noise out of breath. His partner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and giggle while shaking his head, fast enough to steal the soldier's clean towel before he reached it.

“She's not my girl”.

“Not yet, you mean, uh?” He joked then, using the clothing like a whip to hit the metal arm. “But, you have plans or not?”

“Yeah, we have plans”. Bucky admitted eventually, glancing at Sam also stealing his bottle of water. “She invited me to watch a movie”.

It was the innocent and unworried tone of voice from him that made Sam choke, cough, and laugh at once.

“What?”

“Oh, man… Can't believe you're sinful enough to do what we do but too innocent to not see what that means”.

“It means we're gonna watch a movie”.

Bucky was confused at the laughter, trying to understand what he was referring to as he rested his back against the wall and crossed both arms over his chest. Expecting anything else from his wise friend.

“This is the twenty-first century, you ancient. We don't watch movies”.

“What d— What do you mean? You have Netflix, HBO, Prime Video… What's the point?”

Sam was deadpanned, staring in silence at the soldier, not believing what his ears were hearing. “We, guys, don't watch movies with girls, even less when they are the ones inviting us”.

Bucky squinted at him, tilting his head like a lost poppy would do, not being able to read between lines. His partner gasped exasperated, running a hand up and down his face.

“You know, man? Sometimes I feel alone, not having anyone to laugh with about that forties' manners of yours. Should I call Sarah, maybe?”

“Cut the show”. He hissed standing up and passing him away.

“Oh, no, no, no… the show has just started, man, and I have my popcorn ready”.

Bucky had been beating around the bush the whole day, trying to let it out of his mind. Of course, it was something that would happen sooner or later, and —more than of course— he wanted it to happen. The mere fact of thinking about you and him, flesh against flesh, hearing you moaning his name and making you feel good caused him goosebumps and an awkward sensation beneath his black jeans. Suddenly, swallowing saliva turned impossible, biting his lower lip while ringing the intercom of your apartment. Your response didn't last more than a couple of seconds, opening the door downstairs and waiting for him at the entrance of your apartment.

The butterflies fluttered within your bellies when Bucky stepped out of the lift, showing you that charming smile that could make you kill anyone who dared to erase it from his face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” You joked as he raised the bottle of red wine in his left hand.

“Maybe?”

“Missed you today”. You whispered at the soft kiss on your lips and his arm getting wrapped around your lower waist.

“So did I”. He sighed, sounding a little tired, caressing your nose with his.

Yesterday he talked to you about a routine medical check-up the government used to do every six months until he earned his pardon. Four hours of intense exercise to make sure the supersoldier serum was still doing its effect, as he started to feel somewhat tired since he stayed in Wakanda. For Bucky, it was really easy to open up himself with you and talk about his past and some of the things he did. And he didn't complain when you helped him to take off his leather jacket, watching him rubbing his left shoulder.

“I, uh… also was this morning with Sam. Training”. He told you, following you to your kitchen to find a couple of glasses. Turning at him, you couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Don't look at me like that… I know to perfection what you're thinking”.

“You're a telepath now?”

“God, no. I have enough with the voices inside my head, to hear someone's else”. He chuckled resting against the fridge. “But you're very expressive and I was trained to read body language”.

“So, what am' thinking?” You asked driven by curiosity, entertained on opening the bottle of wine.

“Look at this guy… He looks hotter than a barbecue”.

You broke into a loud laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed the drink and the glasses. “Not even close, Sergeant”.

“Liar”. He blurted into your face, passing him away to the living room where the Thai takeaway was waiting for the two of you.

“I'm not lying! You're a lousy body reader”.

“So… you can do it better, uh?”

“Didn't say so, but… yeah”. You replied, placing the wine and the glasses on the coffee table next to the big green sofa.

“Okay, go ahead. What am 'thinking, genius?”

Standing in front of him, some inches away, you squinted at his eyes in advance of touring his posture from top to bottom with your orbs.

“Look at that girl… she's hotter than a volcano”.

“Not even closer, soldier”. Bucky repeated your words, kissing his teeth and causing you to laugh again.

“Liar”.

The night went on, enjoying your dinner and watching the first part of Scary Movie. Since Bucky told you that he loved the horror genre, you thought that it'd be a good start. As you finished the Thai dishes, you two cuddled on your sofa, and it felt nice to be embraced by his muscly arms and had your head rested on his shoulder. He had never been that happier before, imagining for a moment —staring at you by the corner of his eyes— that he wasn't a retired lethal assassin controlled by a bunch of psychos, just a guy watching a movie with his girl.

For some reason that increased his pulse, having to clear his throat as the thought dried it. You couldn't let it go, wrinkling your nose with curiosity, raising your face slightly at Bucky trying to focus on the movie, and pretending everything was going okay.

“What?” He murmured about to laugh nervously, putting his head back a couple of inches to look better at you.

“Seems like you're gonna have a heart attack, what's the matter?”

The soldier breathed heavily through his nostril, expelling all the air in a sight through his parted lips. A lower giggle escaped them as your eyes widened a little more interested in his response to your question.

“Sam… Sam said something this morning”.

There it was. Your grimace turned skeptical, sitting up to borrow the control remote and pause the movie. Turning to face him and placing an arm on the headrest, you puckered your lips in a funny gesture watching him click his tongue.

“Things are different nowadays and… y'know, we used to watch movies”.

“And that's what we're doing”.

“Yeah, but… it's like… now there are some kinds of non-speak social rules”.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and seeing him somewhat troubled and tense just made your heart melt. It wasn't that he was scared, but it almost felt like.

“Is it your first time since the forties?” You dared to ask, clearly with no intentions of making fun of him.

“I've never really… y'know, I was in my twenties when I left Brooklyn. I me— mean, 'm not stupid, okay? I've done things but not… sex like… to the whole point”. Bucky didn't have his eyes on you when he made that confession, rubbing the bridge of his nose by inertia as his nervousness increased. “And now everything… is pretty different”.

“It doesn't have to”. You just replied, stretching a hand to his right one to intertwine your fingers. “Listen, Buck… We don't have to, okay? We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. We can watch the movie and then… you can go, or you can stay to sleep with me”.

“I'd like that”.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, totally, if you excuse me, ma'am… I gotta leave” He clearly joked, about to stand up until you pushed him down to the sofa bursting in laughter. “Nah, I, uh… I mean, I'd like to sleep with you tonight”.

“I'd like too, and to wake up tomorrow morning with you”.

“Yeah, would be very awkward if you go to sleep with me and wake up with another guy in your bed”.

Bucky smirked at you, biting his upper lip before leaning to press both on yours. He couldn't believe you were being so comprehensive with him, not making any other uncomfortable questions, nor kicking his ass out of your house. At that moment, he realized he was madly in love with you, bringing you closer to himself so he could embrace you tenderly between his arms. And you let him, not wanting anything else than to be with him.

At the moment the movie finished, you both stretched your hands to the ceiling with a yawn opening your mouths. You palmed his thigh to beckoning at him, urging the soldier to follow you as you rubbed your eyes using your knuckles, a little sleepy. Turning off the lights on your way to your room, you changed your clothes for a baggy Iron Maiden's t-shirt, as he stripped himself leaving his clothes on the chair in front of your bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers at the end.

You were about to ask him which side he preferred when the words died on your tongue, glancing at him with his flesh hand over his dark grey shoulder. It was the first time you saw the vibranium arm in all its glory and Bucky gave you the impression of being embarrassed. He'd never stop surprising you with plenty of emotions for things that for you didn't have any importance actually —like the fact of not having two real arms.

“Come here”. You murmured, kneeling on the mattress and palming the other lateral, observing every one of his actions till lying next to him, in the middle of the gloom of your room.

Covering both of you with the sheets and turning on your sides to face each other, Bucky took the initiative of wrapping you close to his chest, as he placed his head on your pillow. He couldn't help but take a soft breath from your heavenly smell impregnated in, provoking a smile to grow on your lips. Surrounding his neck with your arms, you sunk your fingers in his short hair, gently caressing his scalp while you started to spread tender short kisses all around his face.

“This feels good”. He purred with such a pleased tone of voice, closing his eyes as he adventured his warm hand under your shirt to draw invisible patterns on your back.

“So good”. You affirmed, peppering his cheek with a bunch of noisy smooches.

Bucky squeezed you between his grip, hiding his face into the gap of your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps because of his exhalation against your skin. He was comfortable being that close, with no distance separating your chests and your legs intertwined in a bundle. You saw how relaxed he was when he pulled his head back to the pillow, noses touching and his eyelids closed.

“Good night, Buck”. You whispered, still feeling his caresses on your back, leaning to kiss him one last time.

“Good night, doll”.

a / n: i hope you have enjoyed the fluffiness of these three chapters because the fourth is gonna be... chaotic.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff

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scientifically-strange · 3 years

Note

After Danny joined the avengers how would his meeting with Bucky go ? Would he be Bucky or the WS ?

Danny was excited to say the least.

He was an official member of the Avengers at the ripe old age of eighteen.

He had already met a few members here and there while on patrols. He's had a conversation with Iron Man, and at one point Captain America tried to be patriotic in his general direction. He had accidentally stumbled in a bust happening, and had met Natasha and Clint in the frenzy. And Spider-Man was one of his besties, now.

He had been given the tour earlier in the day, but it was different when all the lights were off. He's about 80% sure he's been down this hallway three times now.

He just needed to find the kitchen, make some cocoa to calm his nerves, and he's be on his merry way, but noooo. He had to get himself fucking lost.

After another ten minutes he finally found what he was looking for. He gave a sigh of relief, as he turned on the kitchen lights.

Now, he had been sure he's met all of the Avengers. He's seen them all over the news, and most of them at this point had actually come up to him and introduced themselves.

But the exhausted brick shithouse sitting at the bar wasn't in his rolodex.

The man looked at him tiredly, and raised an eyebrow when Danny didn't move a muscle. He had on a long sleeve shirt but he could see a sliver of metal peaking through.

"Take a picture, I'm sure it'll last longer," he said. He had the same Brooklyn drawl that Steve did when he wasn't paying attention to the deliberate way he spoke.

"Uh, hi," Danny said, finally willing his feet to move. "I'm Danny. Uh, hero name Phantom. And you are?"

The stranger just stared at him silently. Danny felt like he was back under the microscope. Or maybe it was because that's what his nightmares had been about. He couldn't tell.

"Right," Danny said after a silence that lasted a little to long. He didn't do well with tense silence. He needed some way to fill it. "I'm gonna make some cocoa. Do you want some?"

The man's head tilted to the side ever so slightly, before he gave a small shrug and nodded.

Danny had no idea if he was supposed to be here or not, but none of the alarms were going off, so Danny figured it was more or less okay. None of his personal alarm bells were going off, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

Danny made quick work of the mugs, topping them with whipped cream and this fancy chocolate drizzle that Natasha liked to keep around. If she asked about it in the morning he'd blame Tony.

Danny leaned on the other side of the counter and took a sip as he passed the other mug to the stranger in front of him.

"Thanks," he said. "It's Bucky, by the way."

Danny's heard that name before. He couldn't quite place it, not with how his brain was still trying to wind down from his nightmares, but he knew the name was associated with the general concept of good, so he just nodded and took another sip.

"You the new recruit?" Bucky asked. Danny nodded and set his mug down, letting it's warmth seep into his permanently cold hands.

"Yeah. I blew in from Amity."

"What made you move to the big city?"

It was a normal question. He was getting to know Danny. So why did it make him tremble? Why did it make his chest clench with an unbearable anxiety? Was it the ghosts? Or maybe it was when he had been shot out of the sky and-

"I just needed a change of pace," he says, oddly proud for the way his voice doesn't shake. "You know how small hick towns are."

"Sounds unbearable," Bucky says. He's looking Danny over, calculating, but doesn't say anything more than that. He takes a sip of his cocoa, and Danny can't help but snort at the whipped cream mustache it gives the older man.

It's quickly wiped away, and the silence settles once again. It's not uncomfortable, necessarily, but there's still a small obligation in the back of Danny's head to fill the silence. After a few minutes of debating what he should break it with, Bucky does the job for him.

"For nightmares Bruce likes to keep a collection of teas in the cabinet above the fridge."

Danny just blinks at him, mug halfway to his mouth. He sets it down, eyebrows furrowed. "How did you know?"

"Because that's why I'm up. And if you want someone to talk to, Sam has a pretty good ear on him."

That's what Steve had told him. He didn't know how he felt about using his teammate, his new friend, as a therapist, even if that was his occupation. But the white figures and glints of metal under harsh lighting is a permanent fixture when Danny closes his eyes. It would be nice to go back to stars and constellations and rocket ships.

"Thanks," he tells Bucky. "I'll keep that in mind. It's just-it's a big change. And I'm still trying to get over what happened, but it's...Hard, I guess."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Danny chewed at his bottom lip and contemplated. He didn't want to be the odd one out on his first night, but he couldn't keep pushing it down either. He needed to talk to somebody about it. And, well, Bucky looked like he understood.

"Have you..." God, why was it so hard to even say their name? "Have you ever heard of the Guys in White?"

Bucky nods slowly, taking a deliberate sip to gather his thoughts. "They're an old branch of Hydra that specializes in the supernatural, though not a lot of people take them seriously."

"Yeah, I didn't either for a long time. Maybe that's why they finally caught up to me."

And so Danny talked, and Bucky listened. He didn't go into detail about how it felt to have gloved hands rummaging around his insides, or how the smell of bleach and antiseptic send him into a panic attack. He doesn't talk about the way the muzzle bit into the bridge of his nose, or how the restraints on his wrists had been too tights when he had been strapped down to that table. But he tells Bucky enough to where he kind of gets the idea of what happened, and in turn Bucky tells him what happened to him.

And in the morning they will act like nothing happened. Danny will kick himself around for not realizing who Bucky was sooner, considering his extensive comic book collection. But the next evening, and many after, they meet in the kitchen and share stories and tips on how to deal with their respective demons.

The weight in Danny's chest gets lighter, the panic less inhibitive, and in turn Bucky gets another punk to look after. He gets somebody who understand him, who needs him to be more than just a mindless killer.

And if the Avengers find them passed out on the couch together with the Lord of the Rings credits playing on the TV, well, none of them say anything about it.

Though, Natasha does have a few new photos for her scrapbook.

----

Give me big brother bucky or give me death

#danny phantom #danny fenton #avengers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #ask #asks open #bucky

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

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