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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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The Great Madripoorian Snake Off

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: M Word Count: 3950

Summary: All Sam argued was that Bucky shouldn't have to pretend to be the Winter Soldier. He never suggested Bucky pose as his husband instead.

The Baron—with his garage of vintage cars and his popped-collar bullshit—starts getting a little too comfortable. Somewhere between his prison cell and his private plane, he begins to act as though he’s the one running the show, so when he states, despicably blasé, that Bucky will need to go undercover as the Winter Soldier, Sam tells Zemo no. Not as forcefully as he forbade him from speaking earlier, but firmly enough that Sam thinks it’s clear that he won’t be changing his mind.

“But it’s the only way,” Zemo says, spreading his hands. “As the Winter Soldier, he is a very believable bodyguard.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need to act like a bodyguard,” Sam argues.

“A show of strength is—”

“Is that really what we need? I thought we were trying to fly under the radar. If we’re advertising Bucky’s capabilities like that, doesn’t that make us a target?”

“Yes,” Bucky mumbles, mostly staying out of it.

Sam’s irritated that Bucky’s not standing up for himself, not pushing back against Zemo’s half-baked plan. Having Zemo here is a lot to deal with, Sam gets that, but if they don’t fight him on this shit now, he has a bad feeling they’re going to regret it when they end up in a firefight. Whatever. He’ll speak up on Bucky’s behalf to save them both grief in the near future. He hopes Bucky would do the same for him.

“Whether or not you acknowledge what he is…” Zemo begins again.

“Who,” Sam says, gaze flicking to Bucky’s face, which is tilting down as he avoids eye contact. “Who he is.”

“…you have the risk of aggression.”

“Buck?” Sam checks. He stares until Bucky’s eyes dart up to meet his. “You gonna keep your cool in there?”

“Best behaviour,” he promises. His blue eyes are suspiciously steady, like always.

“That means,” Zemo translates with a finger raised to complement his interjection, “he’ll react whenever and however he feels he needs to. There is no guarantee it will align with your own conduct.”

“Yeah, man, I know,” Sam snaps.

Like he needs Zemo to explain Bucky to him; Sam knows Bucky. He knows he’s stubborn at best and a reckless hot-head at worst, but he also knows Bucky’s working on that. There’s no need to state how little Zemo expects from Bucky right in front of him. If anybody’s gonna complain about Bucky’s aggravating habit of doing the opposite of whatever Sam wants him to, it’ll be Sam.

He’s still glaring at the Baron when Bucky shifts in his seat, hands clenching in his lap. Sam’s eyes go to the fists, then up to Bucky’s face.

“You see that?” Zemo asks, sounding deeply amused as he nods towards Bucky. “He’s going to insist on playing a bodyguard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ignore him,” Bucky says, quick and low like a kick to the ankle.

“He’s ready to jump to your defense,” Zemo says. He’s grinning, propping his elbows on his armrests and lacing his fingers—looking like the villain he’s already been sentenced for being. “He shows a strong instinct to protect you.”

“Put Bucky with me then,” Sam says reflexively. He glances at Bucky. “If that works for you.” His gaze slides back to Zemo after Bucky’s subtle nod. “If you don’t dress him up like he’s the Winter Soldier and make him act like he’s the Winter Soldier and have him take goddamn orders from you like he’s the Winter Soldier, who’s gonna know? We’re counting on people not being too perceptive, right? That’s why I’m using this Smiling Tiger dude’s identity instead of a made-up one.”

“That’s true,” Bucky says. His tone is gruff as he backs Sam up. “You can’t have it both ways, Zemo. Either we’re both pretending to be real people or neither of us is.”

“I don’t understand,” the Baron says affably, looking between them with a smile. This plane’s gotta hurry up and land before Sam gives in to the urge to stick Zemo’s head in the toilet and flush. “Smiling Tiger and the Winter Soldier are both real people.”

“No. They’re not.”

The silence strains with the pressure behind Bucky’s words. It feels to Sam as though Bucky’s just thrown up a forcefield between himself and Zemo, forbidding him access to the Winter Soldier. Sam can see the disappointment on Zemo’s face, but that asshole will have to wait to express it because the plane’s easing into its descent, circling over Madripoor before setting down on a private airstrip outside the city.

From the hangar, Zemo conducts a short, hushed phone call while Sam watches him with crossed arms. Doesn’t seem to be anything sinister for the moment, because the only result of the call that he witnesses is the arrival of a narrow selection of men’s clothing—including a pair of garish suits. The man who brings the garments laughs with Zemo while Sam and Bucky change in the bathroom off the hangar’s office.

When they see each other, Sam appraises Bucky. His outfit is dark and nondescript. Pricey in its details, but forgettable to anyone who doesn’t have good reason to look closely. (Sam tears his eyes away.) In contrast, Sam’s been urged to choose between the brightly-patterned suits. Layers of fabric and layers of necklaces to top it off. Not exactly Sam’s choice if he were to dress himself in anything on Zemo’s dime, but the Baron insists, flashing him a photo of Smiling Tiger to strengthen his case for bold fashion choices.

“I thought we were making characters up,” Sam says when he looks away from the screen, fiddling with his jewellery.

“This will be easier,” Zemo swears.

He dismisses his contact and the three of them—Zemo, Sam, and Bucky—walk out of the hangar, heading for a bridge with swooping arches and the lights of Madripoor beyond. Apparently, a car will catch up with them. They have until that time to work out their cover without anybody listening in.

“So I’m supposed to be Sam’s bodyguard?” Bucky checks. “Is that what’s happening?”

“You can’t be Smiling Tiger’s bodyguard,” Zemo answers, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

“Why not?” Sam demands.

“Smiling Tiger is never seen with a bodyguard. Everyone knows he has them, but they remain at a distance.”

“Why’s that?”

“Arrogance, most likely,” Zemo says with a smile that Sam would definitely call arrogant. “Smiling Tiger affects an untouchable persona. The presumption of invincibility may not allow him to enjoy a terribly long life, but what committed criminal does?”

“You’re doing alright so far,” Bucky remarks flatly.

Sam sighs and gets them back on track. He’s already fed up with Zemo and these heeled shoes suck, so he’s losing what patience he had.

“What’s Bucky’s role then?” he asks. “We’re sticking together. If you get us some clandestine meeting with somebody who can tell us about the super-soldier serum, we’ll have to be able to explain who Bucky is.”

“Whoever he is, he’s in your orbit, not mine,” Zemo says. “That’s what you decided on, even though my plan would have worked flawlessly—”

“I don’t have any sympathy for you not getting to play puppet master with the Winter Soldier. It’s not necessary, just you looking for any chance to fuck with Bucky’s head. How about you get over it and show a little of the craftiness that helped you break out of prison?”

“Thanks to me,” Bucky notes.

“You want a new plan?” Zemo asks. “Ok. You’re together.”

“No shit we’re together. Like Sam said.”

“No, no,” Zemo says, smiling like he’s about to be a real dick. “You can be Smiling Tiger’s boyfriend. No—husband. That could be useful.”

Bucky stops in his tracks and Sam grips Zemo’s arm to force him to halt as well.

“But...” Bucky says.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, though Bucky doesn’t get any further in words. His eyes are considerably more expressive, but Sam can’t read them, the emotions flying past too quicky, a kite flipping around in a strong wind.

“It allows James to be near you,” Zemo tells him, “and would explain any protective gestures. It’s the simplest solution. Tell me I’m wrong. I know you enjoy doing that.”

“You’re wrong.”

But Sam isn’t so sure about that. They all begin walking again and, by unspoken understanding, allow Zemo to drift slightly ahead. Bucky moves silently to Sam’s side.

“You think this is a good idea?”

“For the record, I don’t like it,” Sam says.

“Neither do I. We’re almost outta time though.”

Sam looks sideways and narrows his eyes at Bucky’s determined expression.

“You’re not fighting this very hard. Is it because you and Zemo have been in cahoots since the prison?”

“We’re not in cahoots.”

“Then why are you so fine with this?”

“It’s better than being the Winter Soldier,” Bucky says.

“The nickname’s a downgrade though,” Sam quips back. Could be a bad time for a joke, but if they’re doing this he can’t have Bucky going into it with that bleak attitude. They need to be more at ease with each other.

The thought alone makes him want to shove Bucky from this bridge and lean over the side to watch the splash.

“Mr. and Mr. Smiling Tiger,” Bucky says miserably. “Fuck.”

“For all I know, Zemo’s making this guy up,” Sam hisses, glancing at the Baron’s back, “so I have to use a stupid name and wear a stupid suit.”

“Seems a little petty for Zemo.”

“He’s gonna try to break us with the small stuff, just you watch.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Bucky tells him.

“That’s exactly what somebody who’s in cahoots with Zemo would say,” Sam accuses. “He’s been working on you since you left me out in the hallway and went in to meet him in his cell alone.” He tugs on the hem of his fitted jacket. “Gotta be vigilant.”

“Whatever you say, Smiling Tiger.”

“You know, I don’t want to hold hands with you, but I’ll do it just to irritate you more than you’re irritating me.”

Bucky glares at him.

The hand-holding is supposed to begin and end as a bluff, but when they get in the back of the car together and Zemo twists around in the passenger seat to give them a significant look, Sam figures he’s trying to get some show of affection out of them. Zemo’s obviously paid the driver—and the hired guns flanking the car on their motorcycles—but this is Madripoor, where competing interests pay competing sums for tip-offs; Sam can admit to himself that, not too far from here, multiple somebodies probably already know Baron Zemo and Co. are in the city. Any one of Zemo’s hires could be reporting on them. He swallows and inches his hand across the middle seat towards Bucky’s.

Zemo gives him an approving nod and a dorky ok sign that makes Sam roll his eyes. When he’s facing forward again, Sam bumps his hand into Bucky’s. With a jerk, Bucky goes from staring out his window to down at their hands.

“Just do it, man,” Sam says under his breath, glancing at the side of the driver’s face.

“Nothing I want more,” Bucky says with zero enthusiasm. He flips his hand over for Sam to grasp and adds, “Babe.”

Just for that, Sam intertwines their fingers to make the hold as intimate as possible. He sees Bucky’s jaw tighten, but before he can probe his staring eyes for meaning, Bucky’s looking out the window again.

Not letting go immediately goes from part of the act to a competition between them. Sam catches the driver peering at the two of them in the rear-view mirror and yanks their joined hands over so the back of Bucky’s rests on his thigh. In obvious retaliation, Bucky clamps Sam’s hand securely when the car rolls to a stop in Low Town, forcing Sam to scoot across the back seat and climb out Bucky’s door.

“You could look a little happier about this,” Zemo suggests, motioning to their rigid arms while they maintain a squeezing hand-hold, as if the Baron’s about to attempt to red-rover his way between them.

“That better not be you telling me to smile,” Sam warns.

“I thought Sam’s nickname was supposed to be ironic,” Bucky says.

“What do I know,” Zemo says. He raises his hands in a gesture of harmlessness—that Sam absolutely does not buy—and leads them up the street.

“He’s not wrong,” Bucky turns his head to mutter as Sam’s gaze roves over a series of seedy deals conducted right out in the open. “You could loosen up a little. You look mad. It’s suspicious.”

“Oh, I could loosen up?” Sam shoots back. “Try wiping that death-stare off your face for five minutes.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to look like this. I’m acting protective, remember?”

“Well, maybe I look mad because your hand’s all sweaty.”

“It’s your hand that’s sweaty!”

“Uh, no.”

“You want me to switch hands?” Bucky asks, eyes boring into Sam’s and startling him because, beneath the exasperation, there’s unmistakable fear. Could be the situation, or the fact that they’re kinda putting their lives in Zemo’s hands here, or that he expects Sam to recoil at even the suggestion of clasping his Vibranium hand like a lover would.

“Yeah,” he says. “Gimme the other one.”

They stare each other down until Bucky shrugs it off, refusing to switch. Sam hopes he knows that he would’ve, that it doesn’t need to be a big deal, and that it’s probably just all Zemo’s talk of manipulating Bucky into playing the part of the Winter Soldier that has him extra wary of his own prosthetic. His Vibranium hand is currently covered by a leather glove and Sam’s glad the Baron can’t see the sleek metal when he looks back at them with greedy eyes full of an agenda Sam’s certain they only know a piece of.

“Almost there,” Zemo tells them.

“I’m gonna try not to attract attention,” Bucky says quietly, making Sam stop with him before they can enter the bar. “I might not talk much.”

“That’s fine,” Sam assures him. “We’ll let Zemo take the lead. You just stay close, alright?”

Bucky nods and they duck inside, following the back of Zemo’s high collar as they weave through a crowd of disreputable characters. It’s packed in here. Sam tries to keep his chest out, his head up, his body moving like this suit is type of thing he wears all the time. Bucky releases his hand to walk behind him, leaving Sam’s palm clammy and cold.

When Sam stops abruptly to let Zemo reach the bartender first, Bucky walks into him. Honestly, his solid presence is a relief and Sam shuts his eyes to reset for a second before turning his head partway.

“That a knife in your front pocket? I thought we were being inconspicuous.”

“It is inconspicuous,” Bucky replies, brushing past him to stand at his side instead of right against his back. “Nobody’s gonna know it’s there unless I have to pull it out.”

“I know it’s there.”

“I wasn’t counting on you pressing your ass against it.”

Sam opens his mouth, but all he can do is make a disgruntled noise before Zemo’s turning away from the bartender with a smile to wave Sam and Bucky forward.

“Ah,” says the Baron. “Will you join me, Smiling Tiger?”

Repeatedly telling himself to keep his shit together, Sam comes up to the bar, leaning an arm on the surface. He isn’t expecting pushback from the bartender, but maybe Zemo doesn’t have quite as much clout in Madripoor as he imagines; the bartender holds Sam’s eyes for a moment before glancing pointedly to Bucky. Sam can feel Bucky hovering at his back.

“My husband,” Sam states. Probably best to keep his answers short. He might look like the real Smiling Tiger, but he has no idea whether or not he sounds anything like him.

The bartender just stares back, then drops his gaze to Sam’s hand, splayed on the bar top. Shit. He knows what the man’s thinking: no ring. Although Sam’s totally good with leaping out of the back of airplanes, being required to improvise with words has him panicking. If he and Bucky had thought to come up with an excuse for why a guy like Smiling Tiger—who’s evidently comfortable being decked out in jewellery—wouldn’t wear a wedding ring, he could deliver it now, but without rehearsing? He’s not a smooth or practiced liar.

Defensively, he draws away from the bar and feels his shoulder hit someone. Bucky. Sam looks from where his shoulder is pressing into Bucky’s chest, then up to his eyes. Wordlessly, he asks for assistance. Bucky leans forward to make his voice heard over the noise of the room and Sam exhales slowly in swift relief. But that’s until Bucky says to the bartender, “Just between you and me, Smiling Tiger says he won’t wear a ring until I find him something that looks better wrapped around him than my mouth.”

The bartender doesn’t react. Sam’s trying not to either, but the expression Bucky petrified onto his face when he spoke can’t look natural. He glances at Zemo, who appears to be unequivocally enjoying their sloppy storytelling. Lifting a glass, the Baron toasts Sam and Bucky.

“Newlyweds,” he says.

With titanic effort, Sam manages a tight approximation of a smile, then angles his face away to speak to Bucky.

“Why the hell would you say that?” he groans.

Bucky gives him a brief glance before returning his gaze to the inscrutable bartender. He fucking beams at him, at the same time replying to Sam from between his clamped teeth.

“Because we’re deeply in love.”

“According to you, the only thing I’ve been deeply in recently is—”

“The usual, Smiling Tiger?” the bartender asks, cutting off Sam’s mumbled conversation.

He nods and the man puts his back to them as he prepares whatever Smiling Tiger’s signature drink is.

“I believe it,” Zemo offers, murmuring into his drink as he tips it back.

“We didn’t ask,” Bucky tells him.

Sam can still feel Bucky standing there, making casual contact that alters slightly as he speaks. What is he doing? Shifting to put himself between Sam and Zemo? The Baron might’ve been right about his protective instinct, though Sam’s sure as hell never noticed this before. No, Zemo’s gotta be wrong. These are extreme circumstances—stressful circumstances—and he and Bucky are just putting their backs together (figuratively), ready to defend against an attack from anyone but each other. That doesn’t mean anything except that they’ve been in combat together and developed a certain amount of dependability and, alright, trust.

“The chemistry is there,” Zemo continues casually, dissecting after being blatantly told not to. “The history, the tension. It’s absolutely electric.”

Zemo is spared the merciless comeback forming in Sam’s mouth when the bartender slaps an entire dead snake down in front of them and starts to gut it. Even Bucky flinches against him. Sam can’t remember the last thing he ate, but he has a bad feeling he’s going to be reminded any second when he ralphs it up between his fancy shoes.

“Hey,” Bucky says, grabbing his arm and turning him away from the bar.

Sam wants to knock his hand away because he can’t break character now. This could be some kind of test, ordered by the person Zemo brought them here to make contact with and carried out by the bartender. Sam needs to be unfazed by this and he’s taking shallow breaths through his mouth (because what he doesn’t need to do is find out what that snake’s corpse smells like), striving to regain his composure.

And Bucky… well, Bucky just has to fuck that up for him.

Vibranium fingers take gentle grip of Sam’s jaw as Bucky tilts his head and plants a firm kiss on his lips. Sam hates that this is easier to improvise than a spoken lie. And he’d be lying to himself if he couldn’t admit that he’s thought about this. A dozen times, just today. He grabs Bucky by the hips, hauling him against him. In his head, thoughts and stimuli are unfolding and collapsing like his wings—the thick slicing sound of the bartender’s knife, Who the hell does Bucky think he is, kissing me out of nowhere?, the puff of air leaving Bucky’s nose and hitting Sam’s cheek, All of this is Zemo’s fault, the soft feel of Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth, Fuck that, Zemo’s not getting credit for this, the ridge of the knife in Bucky’s front pocket as it pushes against Sam’s thigh. That is still the knife, isn’t it?

When Bucky breaks it off, he looks a little dazed. Sam wants to laugh and tell him, Hey, that was your idea, but there seems to be a lag in his ability to banter. At the sound of a glass being set on the bar behind him, he recalls what was going on right before Bucky initiated that kiss and from what, therefore, Bucky was trying to spare him.

“Thanks,” Sam mouths.

Holding his gaze, Bucky nods.

Sam rotates to find a shot glass with something distressing floating inside. His stomach lurches like a student driver’s ride as he stares at the slimy lump in the glass. Bucky moves around him to prop an elbow on the bar, excitement in his eyes, clearly ready to watch Sam swallow whichever organ the bartender just harvested for his consumption. What a dick. So much for Bucky protecting him.

It makes Sam shudder just to close his fingers around the glass, but when he catches Bucky looking like he’s suppressing a laugh, he suddenly knows exactly what’ll make him feel better.

“I hate for you to waste a good snake,” Sam tells the bartender. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bucky’s face fall. “You’ve got plenty of choice pieces left. Pour another one of these for my husband.”

With the final word of his order, he takes his hand from the bar to smack Bucky’s ass.

“I was just starting to think about forgiving you for breaking Zemo outta prison and you had to look at me like you can’t wait for me to down this snake drink,” Sam says, focusing on Bucky while the bartender takes his knife to the snake a second time.

“So this is the punishment?” Bucky asks.

“I believe it’s more of a trust exercise,” Zemo offers. Oh, that’s right, he’s still here. Between the nastiest drink-making process he’s ever witnessed and making out with Bucky, Sam actually stopped being aware of Zemo. “Really, it’s symbolic, James. Sam would like for the two of you to go through this together, to strengthen your bond with a shared experience. The gesture is quite moving.”

“Can we get one for the Baron too?” Bucky requests as the bartender sets his drink in front of him. “Wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”

Zemo attempts to wave it off, but Sam piles on with an “I insist,” and apparently an insistence from Smiling Tiger is worth more than the manners of a backpedalling Helmut Zemo in this city. Or the bartender doesn’t like the Baron either.

“We’re gonna talk about that kiss later,” Sam informs Bucky, ignoring Zemo’s expression of pure dread.

“Why don’t we talk about it now and skip the—”

“Because I said so.” Sam raises his shot glass in Bucky’s direction. “Cheers.”

Watching Bucky reluctantly lift his own drink from the bar, Smiling Tiger finally smiles.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Helmut Zemo #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

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olivemac · 3 years

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1300 miles | chapter 3 | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, very very slight dom!Bucky, slight praise kink, very slight somnophilia], angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Tag | @mrs--barnes

A/N | Decided to go pure filth and fantasy for chapter three. Enjoy. 😉

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

1300 miles playlist

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previous chapter

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Since returning in The Blip, Bucky has hated the time between when he lays down and when he falls asleep. He can't seem to turn his mind off. He's still getting used to being alone with his own thoughts, having his own thoughts. Wakanda offered him some peace, and in his apartment, he keeps the TV running constantly to fill the silence and stop himself from getting too lost inside his head. But at Sarah's house, he's afraid to turn the television on for fear of waking anyone else. So, on Sunday night, he lays on the couch listening to the house creak and groan around him, trying not to overanalyze everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours. He also tries not to think about Jo and everything he likes about her: her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her lips, her hands, her breasts—

He cuts off his train of thought. She's funny, clever, and kind, and in just a few short hours, she seems to have commanded Bucky's undivided attention.

_____

On Monday morning, Bucky debates whether or not to text Jo. Sam advises him to wait a day or two: "Put the ball in her court. You don't want to seem over-eager," he says. Bucky doesn't point out that he hasn't felt this way about a woman in eighty years, so he is definitely beyond eager.

Luckily, Jo texts him first.

The slightly outdated smart phone Sam convinced him to invest in chimes. Jo's name appears on the screen, a small pink heart next to it, along with a photo of her in her glasses holding Toulouse and the message, I think Louie misses you, Sarge.

Another picture comes through. This time it’s of himself, asleep with Louie on his chest. Bucky smiles.

“Sam,” Bucky calls across the boat, “how do you save a photo on this damn thing?” He holds his phone up.

Sam laughs and trots over to him. “Hand it here,” he says.

Bucky hands him the phone, the message from Jo pulled up on the screen.

Sam raises his eyebrows, “Sarge, huh?”

“Don’t say a word,” Bucky warns. “Just show me how to save the photo.”

Sam walks him through the steps, then says, “You can make it your background, you know, instead of this…” he exits out of the text message and looks at the screen, “sad, generic picture.”

“You can do that?” Bucky asks.

“Did you not watch the tutorial videos I sent you, man?” Sam sighs.

Then he holds up the phone, snaps a photo of himself, sets it as Bucky’s home screen, and hands the phone back to Bucky.

Bucky stares at it for a moment. “What the hell?” he mutters.

“Watch the videos so you’ll know how to change it, Sarge.” Sam teases.

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Jo spends most of Monday and Tuesday trying not to think about Bucky and failing miserably. The only reprieve she has is band rehearsal which gives her something to focus on that isn't Bucky's hands or mouth or eyes or broad shoulders...

She throws herself into learning new music and tries to avoid texting Bucky every five minutes. They keep a fairly regular conversation going throughout the two days, but she's afraid she's going to scare him off if she seems too enthusiastic.

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When Tuesday evening finally arrives, Bucky pulls up outside the bar on a borrowed motorcycle Sam hooked him up with. He's sure that Sam only made it happen so Bucky wouldn't ask to drive his car.

He calls Jo on the intercom outside the residential door to the right of the bar. She buzzes him in, and he takes the stairs two at a time. He's full of nervous energy that he can't seem to burn off. At Jo's door, he runs a hand through his hair before knocking.

When Jo opens the door, Bucky has to stop himself from kissing her immediately. It doesn't seem like the right move for the very beginning of a first date, despite what happened between them two days earlier. Jo's dark hair is loose, falling across her shoulders, and her lips are a deep shade of red. It reminds him of the color women wore in the '40s, but he can't remember anyone looking as beautiful in the shade as Jo does.

She's wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into slim, black jeans, and when Bucky's eyes follow the trail of the gold necklace laying across her collarbone, he's greeted with the sight of the beginning of her sternum tattoo and the lace of her black bra peeking out. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes back to Jo's.

She smirks at him.

"You look gorgeous, doll," Bucky says.

"Not too bad yourself, Sarge," she says, taking in his usual dark jeans and leather jacket. She notices that he's not wearing his gloves.

"These are for you," Bucky says, handing her the small bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way.

Jo smiles and takes them. "You did say flowers." The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up in a smile. "They're lovely," she continues. "Just let me put these in water."

She moves away from the door, and Bucky follows her into the apartment. He watches as she pulls a vase from a kitchen cabinet and fills it with water. He can't stop himself from staring at the curve of her hips and backside in the tight, black denim she's wearing. All thoughts of not kissing her yet are dismissed.

He steps up behind her as she stands at the counter, snipping the ends of the stems and placing the flowers in the vase. Bucky's hands sweep over her hips and around her waist, pulling her flush against his own body — her back against his front. He takes her hair into his hand and moves it, so it falls over one shoulder, granting him access to her pale neck. His lips find the spot behind her ear, and he kisses her gently, before moving down to suck a bruise into the skin where her neck meets her collarbone. Bucky hears the scissors Jo was holding clatter onto the counter.

"If you start that, we'll never get to dinner," she says almost breathlessly.

"I did promise you dinner," Bucky mumbles against her neck.

"You did."

He spins her around and kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth, careful to not smudge her lipstick.

"Then dinner it is," he says, pulling away and offering her his hand.

Outside, Jo eyes his motorcycle with suspicion. "You want me to ride a motorcycle. In New Orleans," she says.

Bucky shrugs.

"The potholes alone will kill us," Jo argues.

"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks, his eyes shining with excitement and his mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile.

Jo nods. With that look, Bucky could ask her to ride a motorcycle naked through Mardi Gras and she would agree. "Of course," she says.

Bucky's smile broadens, and he places the extra helmet on her head. Jo doesn't care how much this will mess up her hair; she's too focused on how gentle Bucky's hands are as he secures the strap and flips the visor down. He puts his own helmet on and motions for her to climb on behind him. Jo wraps her hands tightly around Bucky's waist as he starts the bike.

He's surprisingly agile as he maneuvers the motorcycle through the streets of New Orleans, avoiding potholes and roadblocks. Jo relaxes her hold on his waist a bit and rests her helmeted cheek against his back. Bucky's heart swells at the thought that she trusts him to keep her safe.

_____

The restaurant Bucky chose from Sam's list of suggestions is housed in a converted warehouse a few blocks from the curve of the Mississippi River. Inside, it's louder than Bucky would have liked, but that also means that Jo sits close to him so she can hear him over the noise, her body angled toward his and her hand resting on his arm as she looks over the menu. Bucky places his own hand on her knee.

He has to remind himself to actually read the menu in front of him instead of just staring at Jo. He's finally made himself focus long enough on the entrees to decide what to order when he hears Jo let out a soft snort beside him. He looks up.

"Sorry," she says before biting her bottom lip to stifle another laugh.

He just stares at her.

"You do this thing," she continues, "when you're concentrating on something, where you squint your eyes, and you rest your tongue on your bottom lip. It's kind of adorable.”

Bucky sets his menu down on the table. "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'adorable' before," he says.

Jo hums and cocks her head to the side, staring at him. "Definitely adorable. But would you prefer charming? Handsome? Incredibly sexy?" Bucky blushes. "Should I go on?" she teases.

Bucky takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. "Please don't," he says.

"Not a fan of compliments, Sarge?" she goads him.

"Not used to hearing them," he mumbles.

Jo smiles and squeezes his hand. "We should change that," she says.

The corners of Bucky's eyes crinkle with his smile, and Jo wants to place kisses over each line created. Instead, she closes the short distance between them and opts for placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. She likes that Bucky lets her do this, lets her show her fondness for him this way. She's always been overly affectionate with people she likes.

For his part, Bucky is enjoying the contact. He used to love to hold a woman's hand, brush the hair from her face, press a kiss to her cheek, and after being denied any form of gentle touch for eighty years, he finds he can't get enough of it. He thought he would shy away from it after so long without human connection, but Jo makes it easy. She seems to make everything easy for him. He thinks about how normal it is to sit in a restaurant with a beautiful woman, and he chokes down the thought that maybe he doesn’t deserve anything easy or normal.

Over dinner, Jo leads the conversation. While Bucky answers her questions and engages with her stories, she's noticed that he prefers to stay quiet, prefers to listen. So, she talks. And while she talks, she observes him, observes the way his eyes follow her hands, the way his tongue drags over his bottom lip, the way his body tenses and turns ever so slightly to an unexpected noise in the room.

"You're very intense," she finally tells him.

"Sorry," he says, running his tongue over his lips again.

"Don't apologize," Jo says. "I like it. I like you."

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and, for a brief moment, Bucky wants to pour himself out before her, tell her how she makes him feel like himself again after so long. He wants to confess to her, wants to tell her more than he's told Sam or his therapists or anyone in a lifetime – stories of his childhood and family, of Steve and the war, and everything after that. But the words get caught in his throat and the moment passes.

When they step outside of the restaurant after dinner and another drink, there's enough of a late-night breeze blowing to cause Jo to wrap her arms around herself. Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Jo's shoulders before tucking her body into his side. She lifts her head and smiles up at him as he leads her the few blocks to where the bike is parked.

Before he places the helmet over her head again, Bucky kisses her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body against his. He nips her bottom lip gently with his teeth and lets his hand wander down her backside, pressing her body impossibly closer. When he finally pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and his pink lips are slightly swollen.

Jo brings her hand up to cradle his jaw. "Take me home, Sarge," she whispers.

_____

At traffic lights, Jo, warm in Bucky’s leather jacket, finds her hands wandering from Bucky's waist to his thighs, drawing slow circles across the thick muscles there. When they stop at one particularly long light, Jo has to stop herself from letting her hand ghost across his crotch. She’s trying to respect his boundaries, his need to be in control. By the time they reach Jo's apartment, Bucky's half-hard beneath his jeans, and Jo is anxious to get him upstairs.

He parks the motorcycle on the street outside the bar and stashes the helmets while Jo unlocks the building's residential door. When the helmets are locked up, Bucky meets her at the door and guides her inside, his hands on Jo's hips. She turns and presses him against the inside of the door, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair and ghost her lips over his, their breath mingling.

"Are you done teasing me?" Bucky growls.

"Never," she laughs and moves out of his reach. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs before Bucky catches up to her. In one swift move, he lifts her up and tosses her over his shoulder, smacking her backside before climbing the stairs. Jo laughs and enjoys the view of his muscled back beneath her hands.

Bucky doesn't put Jo down outside her apartment. Instead, she hands him her keys, and he unlocks the door while holding her with one arm around her thighs. He doesn't set her down in the living room either; he carries her all the way through the apartment to her bedroom and tosses her gently onto her bed. Jo bounces once and laughs before sliding out of his jacket, kicking off her shoes, and pulling Bucky toward her.

"Come here," she says, releasing his dog tags from beneath the collar of his shirt and tugging gently on the chain.

Bucky steps out of his own shoes and climbs onto the bed, hovering over Jo. He pushes a strand of hair out of her face and stares at her. Her lipstick is faded from dinner and their kisses, but her cheeks and chest are flushed red in its place.

“You’re beautiful, Jo,” Bucky says, and he leans down and kisses her gently. They stay like that for a while, kissing slowly, finally breaking away for air and for Bucky to spread kisses across Jo’s jaw and neck.

“Bucky?” Jo whispers. He hums in acknowledgment, his lips pressed against her collarbone. “You're in charge, okay?”

Bucky exhales slowly, his fingers trailing up and down Jo's sides. “Good," he says. "Because first I'm going to make you come apart on my fingers, then my tongue, then my cock."

Jo practically whimpers, and her back arches, her chest pushing toward Bucky’s hands as they trail across her breasts then down to untuck her shirt. His fingers move quickly over the buttons on her blouse, and he parts the fabric to reveal the black lace of her bra. He leans back slightly and takes in the sight of her pierced nipples pressing against the fabric.

"Gorgeous," her murmurs before laving at one of her nipples through the lace. He leans back again and pulls the fabric down to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Jo sighs and weaves her fingers into Bucky's hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. Bucky growls against her breast, and his fingers move to the button of her jeans, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. His flesh hand dives beneath the waist of her underwear, and his fingers ghost over her clit. He's moving purely on instinct and maybe, he thinks, muscle memory.

“Bucky,” Jo whines as his hand dips lower, two fingers sinking into her wet heat.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He presses one more kiss to her nipple before claiming her lips again. He strokes her slowly, enjoying the way her walls clamp around his fingers and her eyes fall shut.

“More,” she pleads, and Bucky smirks against her lips. He crooks his fingers and presses his thumb against her clit until she’s gasping.

“Look at me when I make you come,” Bucky whispers, increasing the speed of his thrusts, his thumb pressing harder against Jo’s clit. He feels her tighten around his fingers, and she keens, arching her back, her eyes flying open and locking on Bucky’s. “Good girl,” he praises, and he adds a third finger as she clenches around him and digs her own fingers into the bed sheets, coming undone on his hand.

Bucky slips his fingers out of her and tugs her jeans and underwear down her legs, tossing them on the floor. His hands slide up her legs, over the curve of her hips and across her stomach to reach behind her back and unhook her bra. Jo sits up and shrugs out of her blouse and bra, letting Bucky throw them aside. His hand on her shoulder guides her to lay back down.

Bucky sits back on his heels and takes in the sight of her, from her flushed cheeks to the barbells pierced through her nipples to the trim patch of hair between her legs.

“Fuck, doll, look at you,” Bucky finally says, licking his bottom lip.

Jo breathes out a laugh and pushes at Bucky’s shirt until he’s pulling it over his head. He stands from the bed to pull his jeans off, as well, keeping his boxers on for now, then returns to her, his lips finding hers again. Their teeth clash, and Bucky’s fingers dig into the skin at Jo’s hips, holding her in place, keeping her from pressing up against his crotch.

“Be still,” he whispers, and his teeth nip at her jaw.

Bucky runs his tongue down her neck to the top of her left breast where he stops to suck a bruise into her tender flesh. He soothes the spot with his tongue and a kiss before continuing his path down her stomach to her hip. He uses his tongue to trace the floral pattern inked on the outside of her left hip down the top of her thigh and across to her cunt.

Bucky's heated breath ghosts across her sensitive flesh, and Jo gasps when he dips his tongue into her folds. He laps at her slowly, then sucks her clit between his lips, and Jo’s back arches and her whole body seems to rise off the bed.

“Be. Still,” he hisses again, and his arms wrap around the backs of her thighs to hold her in place.

“There," Jo whines. "Don’t stop. Please."

Bucky shifts his own hips against the bed, seeking any form of relief. He loves the sounds he's pulling from Jo, loves the way she tastes, and the way she ruts against him, despite his iron grip on her thighs. Later, he thinks, I'll lie on my back and let her ride my face until her legs collapse.

Stars explode behind her eyes when Jo comes, and a scream is caught in her throat. Bucky places a final kiss against her cunt, then pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jo reaches for him. He kicks off his boxers before settling back over her. She can feel him hot and hard against her thigh, and Bucky reaches down to stroke his cock, pulling the foreskin back with a groan.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, his eyes meeting hers.

Jo nods and cups Bucky’s face in her hands. “Are you?” she asks.

"Yes. God, yes," Bucky groans. He hasn’t wanted — needed — anything this badly in so long.

Jo wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. Bucky fists his cock, running it along her folds to gather her slick, before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust. Jo gasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her neck bared for Bucky’s lips and tongue.

Bucky’s vibranium fist is clenched so tightly in the sheets he thinks he might rip them. He relaxes his hand slowly, the plates that work as his muscles whirring quietly beside Jo’s ear.

Bucky groans against Jo’s neck. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me.”

He holds himself very still, giving Jo time to adjust to him, until her hips rise to meet his. He sets a slow pace at first, enjoying the way her body flutters around him. Jo digs her short nails into the skin of his shoulders, and Bucky is surprised to find he likes the slight sting. He shifts her legs even wider with his large hands on her thighs and sits back slightly to watch himself sink into her over and over.

Jo's hands drop to his waist, and she caresses the skin there gently before whispering, "Faster, please."

Bucky practically growls at her request before pulling back and snapping his hips against hers at a frantic pace. Jo keens, and Bucky shifts again to press his body over hers, covering her completely. She can feel his dog tags against her heated chest. He watches her bite her bottom lip, her green eyes meeting his. Jo is lost in his eyes, his pupils blown wide; the look he's giving her somewhere between awe and adoration, and Jo is certain the look in her eyes mirrors his because she is so far gone for him.

“I want to see you come again, pretty girl. Give me one more,” Bucky demands, his thumb rubbing harsh circles against her clit.

That simple command is all it takes to send Jo spiraling over the edge for a third time. Bucky follows behind with a low groan, tensing and burying himself deep within her. He drops his weight on top of her briefly, his head resting against her shoulder, before pulling away and rolling onto his back, bringing Jo into his side.

They lay like that for a while, Bucky running his flesh hand up and down Jo's arm while Jo presses lazy kisses against Bucky's chest. Eventually, she excuses herself to take her contacts out and wash her face, tossing Bucky a clean washcloth from the bathroom door, and when she slides back in bed, Bucky is on her again. He makes good on his promise to himself to have her cunt over his face, pulling another orgasm from her before she falls onto the bed beside him, laughing.

He takes her face in his hands and sweeps his fingers across her cheeks gently. He wants to tell her how amazing she is, how happy he is to have met her, how wonderful the past few days have been, but he isn't sure how to put all of that into words. Not yet.

So, he rolls them both onto their sides, her back pressed against his chest and his flesh arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Jo hums and laces her fingers with Bucky's, her eyes closing. She's warm and happy and sleep is calling her name.

_____

Bucky wakes an hour or so after he's fallen asleep, the beginnings of a nightmare fresh in his mind. When his senses clear, and he feels Jo's body pressed against his, he feels calm. He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her closer to him and presses kisses against her shoulder until she stirs.

Jo mumbles sleepily and pushes back against him, Bucky's cock nestled against her lower back. His fingers find her cunt, and she's still slick with evidence of their earlier encounter. He presses inside her slowly, groaning as he fills her, her walls tightening around him.

"Bucky," Jo sighs, her hand moving back to grip his hip as he ruts into her.

When he comes, he sinks his teeth into her shoulder to stifle his cry, then runs his tongue across the spot to soothe the sting. Jo drags the hand wrapped around her up to her mouth and kisses his palm. He tries to remember what he would have said to a woman in this situation eighty years ago, but the romantic words don't come.

Instead, he whispers, "I really like you, Jo," against her shoulder.

Jo laughs sleepily. "Good. I like you, too, Sarge."

_____

When Bucky wakes the second time, he’s alone. He can hear faint music coming from another room. He checks his phone. 6:00 AM. He slips out of bed and slides his boxers on.

The apartment is still dark with all the curtains closed, apart from light spilling from a crack in the music room door. Bucky finds Jo sitting on the floor, a guitar in her lap. He knocks and pushes the door open further. Jo turns to look up at him and smiles.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “I don’t always sleep well,” she says.

Bucky sits on the floor with her, his back propped against the wall. Jo has to stop herself from staring at his muscled chest and thighs.

"Play me something, doll," Bucky says, resting his head against the wall behind him.

She runs through a couple of songs while Bucky replays the events of last night in his mind.

"Shit!" he says suddenly, sitting up straight. Jo stops strumming and looks at him, bewildered. "I didn't wear a condom," he says.

“It’s okay. I have an IUD so I can’t get pregnant," she tells him. "And I’m disease free. I assume you are...you know, with all that super soldier serum running through your veins," she gestures toward him.

Bucky nods but stays silent.

“Do you know what an IUD is?” she asks in response to his silence.

He blushes. “When the government pardoned me, they made me do a complete physical — doctors poking and prodding me," he shudders involuntarily. "So yeah, I'm clean. Afterwards, I don’t think they really knew what to do with me, so they gave me a bunch of pamphlets on everything from mental health to safe sex.”

Jo hums and mutters something about the state of the American public health system.

“We should have had this conversation before we slept together," Bucky finally says. "That’s what the pamphlets recommend.”

Jo tosses her head back and laughs, and Bucky beams with pride at the sight.

“Come on, Sarge," she says, setting her guitar aside, "I’m taking you to breakfast."

_____

next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x original character #bucky x original female character

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katsidhe · 4 years

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15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

#spn spoilers #sam and dean #15.20 #final thoughts #sam and romance #sam and peace #just leave me here to die #I did not realize how relieved I'd be #I do not believe how much tension has left me #at the realization that I liked this ending #and of COURSE there are so many people complaining about sam's peace #but guess what!!!#this isn't season 8!#this time the show agrees with ME!#SAM HAS riGHTs!

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toria-writes · 3 years

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Spare Me

Summary: You convince Dean and Sam to stop at a bowling alley.

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader (platonic), Sam Winchester/Reader (friends)

Warnings: Mention of family's death

Word Count: 1,677 Words

A/N: This is my very first written and published fic. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Feedback is always appreciated!

“Bowling!” You squealed, as the Impala drove by a neon lit sign on the side of the road. “Can we stop? Please, please, please, please?” you begged the two Winchester brothers in the front seat.

Dean and Sam looked at each other, unsure.

“Oh, come on guys! What else better do we have to do right now?” you pleaded.

“Get drunk?” replied Dean, chuckling.

“Perfect!” you exclaimed.”Bowling alleys usually have bars and serve greasy food!” you argued. “Please, can we play a couple of games? If you’re both having a miserable time, we can leave, I promise.”

The brothers looked at each other again with uncertainty and had one of their silent exchanges back and forth, as you stared them both down, with your best puppy dog eyes. Dean huffed, and said, “Fine. A couple of games, some drinks and food, then we’re heading back to the motel room.”

You squealed with delight, “Thank you boys, you won’t regret it!”

Dean swung Baby around and pulled into the lot of the bowling alley. As the three of you were getting out you rifled through your duffle bag, as the boys waited for you. “Aha! Here they are!” You said as you turned around triumphantly, getting out of the car. In your hands were a pair of bowling shoes, white and light blue metallic in color, with some signs of wear.

“Do you always carry those around with you?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yeah, why?” You asked

“No reason,” Sam chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my bowling ball with me too,” you chuckled, as Sam gave you a quizzical look. You bounded towards the entrance, excited to experience the sights and sounds of a bowling alley again, after a few year’s absence. The sound of the balls rolling down the shiny alleys, the pins crashing, the sound of the ball return machines. It was a place you felt at home. Your family and you used to go bowling weekly, but that was before a skinwalker, disguised as your new family dog, attacked your parents and sister, eating their hearts. You were next, barely holding it off with a silver plated cake server, but then the Winchesters burst through your front door, guns blazing and took out the skinwalker, with their silver bullets. You left with them that day,after they eliminated the rest of the pack, and haven’t looked back since. You quickly learned about all things that go bump in the night and decided you were going to become a hunter to help other people from feeling the pain and loss you carried with you everyday. That was the reason your bowling shoes were always with you, they reminded you of happier times with your family. You found you had a natural talent for the hunter’s life, and the boys were glad to have you on their team.

You approached the front desk and a young twenty-something woman greeted you. “How can I help you?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at Sam and Dean.

“Can we have a lane for three, please, and shoes for two, I have my own,” you said, holding up your pair.

“Sure,” she replied. “What sizes?” she asked as she looked at the boys.

“Uh, 11, replied Dean.

“12,” replied Sam.

The girl turned around to grab the two pairs in the correct size and stared into Sam’s eyes as she placed them on the counter in front of them. “Hmm, big feet,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she said it, with a smirk. Sam stared back at her and said with a wink, “That’s not all.”

You saw the girl’s breath hitch as she spluttered out, “Uh, um, lane four.” Her cheeks and ears tinged bright pink.

“We will need a menu too, please,” you asked the poor flustered girl. She handed you one, while in a daze, never once taking her eyes off Sam. “Thanks,” you replied.

“N-no problem,” she stammered as you all turned to walk toward your lane.

As you got out of earshot of the front counter, you turned to the younger Winchester. “Sam!! That poor girl,” you admonished. “She almost passed out!”

“Sorry, (Y/N), it’s been awhile,” Sam said sheepishly while rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, Sam, strike while the iron is hot! You better go back and at least get that girl’s number, It’s bad manners to leave her hanging like that!”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll, uh, meet you guys at the lane,” Sam said, as he jogged back towards the desk.

“It’s the least you could do, after ruining her panties,” you muttered under your breath. Dean burst out laughing to your right. You blushed and said, “Didn’t think you heard that.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, Sweetheart,” Dean said, still chuckling.

You both found your lane and sat down to put on your bowling shoes. You and Dean were picking your bowling balls from the racks as Sam bounced back over to the two of you.

“She gets off at ten,” Sam announced proudly.

“Way to go, Casanova!” Dean guffawed as slapped Sam on the back.

You were putting your names into the computer to keep your scores, as the waitress came over to take your order. Without looking up you said, “Two pitchers of beer and 2 large pizzas, one meat lovers and one veggie, please?”

“Sure, coming right up,” she said as she spun on her heel to go put your order in.

When you turned around Sam and Dean were staring at you. “Whaat?” you asked. “It’s classic bowling alley food, and I want you both to get the full experience. The meat lovers is for Dean and the veggie is for Sam, obviously.” You heard Dean chuckle to your right. “And, I’ll eat either one,” you stated matter of factly. “So,” you said turning around. “I’ll go first, then Dean and then…”

“Sammy?! Really, (Y/N)??” Sam asked, giving you his best bitch face, while reading the screen overhead. You started to giggle as Dean burst out laughing. Both of you knowing he preferred to be called “Sam”.

Just then the waitress returned with your 2 pitchers of beer and 3 glasses. “Here you go, let me know if you need anything else,” she said, placing them on your table. You poured the three drinks for you all, and took a big gulp of yours. Dean doing the same.

“Now that’s what I'm talking about!” he said. “Let’s bowl!” You got up, grabbed your ball and took a deep breath. You approached the foul line and as soon as the ball left your hand, you knew. CRASH!! A perfect strike! You turned to look at the boys grinning, only to find them both mid-sip with their mouths hanging open, staring at you.

“What?” you asked. “I was in a weekly league for 13 years!” you said, smiling.

“You never cease to amaze me, Sweetheart!” said Dean as he got up to take his turn. Luckily, he didn’t see your face turn bright red as you blushed furiously at his compliment.

“Um, t-thanks,” you stuttered out as you caught Sam’s eye, and he gave you a knowing look.

For the next couple of hours you and the boys had fun bowling, drinking beer, and eating pizza. It was a perfect day and you made sure to take many pictures with your phone. Including one of you drinking straight from the pitcher, as the boys laughed, cheering you on. You even got one of the bowlers on the next lane to take a few group photos of you three.

“Let’s just stop for a moment, and really enjoy this day for what it is,” you said, to the boys, as they looked at you quizzically. “A day where we just get to enjoy living, without the weight of saving the world on our shoulders,” you said with a whimsical smile.

“Hells yeah!” Exclaimed Dean. “I’ll drink to that!” He raised his glass and you and Sam did the same, clinking them together and all taking the last sips of your beers.

“We should definitely do this more often (Y/N),” said Sam.

“Yeah, it seems a great place for you to pick up girls Sam,” you said teasingly, smirking.

“Speaking of which, it’s almost ten now,” Sam said, checking the time and walking away from the two of you. “I’ll meet you back at the motel later tonight...or tomorrow!” he said, laughing as you both watched him walk away, shaking your heads.

“So, what now Winchester?” you asked Dean. Your (e/c) eyes meeting his green ones.

“Well, I could think of a few things to pass the time,” he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You wish, Winchester,” you scoffed, trailing your finger down his muscular chest. “Seems Sammy is the only one getting lucky tonight,” you said in a breathy voice. He quickly hid the disappointment on his face. You definitely had strong feelings for Dean, with his charming good looks, big caring heart and his fierce loyalty, but you did not want to ruin the perfect set up the three of you had. You refused to be another notch on his bedpost, just to ruin your little “family” you had made for yourself.”How about a beer and snack run, then a movie night back at the motel?” you suggested, trying hard to keep your breathing even.

Dean’s face lit up. “That sounds perfect Sweetheart! Who says Sammy is the only lucky one tonight?” he said with a wink.

“I’ve got the perfect movie in mind, too,” you said with a smile. “Kingpin,” you said proudly.

He looked at you and smiled, “Any movie with Bill Murray in it, is a win in my book!” As you walked out he put his arm around your shoulder and said, “My girl sure knows how to pick ’em!”

You walked out of the bowling alley with a grin on your face, seriously debating if you made the correct decision to remain platonic friends.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #bowling #skinwalker #supernatural #spn #Toria_Writes #flirting #fluff #oneshot

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Limited Edition. So Far Away

[FULL MASTERLIST] [Limited Edition Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: All audiences Genre: Fantasy, Comedy, Fluffy Fluff, Adventure. Pairing: Bts x Friend!Reader Words: 1.4K

Summary: It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will recieve a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

Returning home was quiet, absolutely no stress about little men being seen. Even going through customs was a breeze. You felt like you had succeeded but in what you were not sure. The boys had shown you around Seoul for a week before you had to return home.

You didn’t miss them, at least not yet. But when you opened the door to your home, it felt almost empty. You walked into the house and heard a shuffling. “Who is there?” you said thinking perhaps it was Jungkook or Seokjin raiding the cupboards again

“Hey best friend” A wave of disappointment washed over you. “where have you been?”

“Oh…” You shrugged “Around”

Walking dejectedly to your room, you went to unpack your suitcase and saw the dollhouse. “It hurt a lot to see it without them in it. You placed it on your desk. Before promptly face planting your bed and crying softly.

The days passed, you went back to your university and you started working on assignments and keeping busy with lectures and tutorials. You spent your time filling the void of loneliness and you never had the heart to throw away the dollhouse.

Just when things started to look better, you remembered them when they were Tiny. Rocking out to Mic Drop and Yoongi’s little hand gestures as he rapped.

Or on days you caught a glimpse of the boys on run bts or alive you would remember how they were when they had transformed back.

“How does it feel being the small one?” Namjoon grinned looking over you trying to be intimidating. News flash he wasn’t after seeing him reduced to the size of your hand with dimples and two left feet. That man couldn’t scare you. So why did you cower slightly? It was probably because you were weirded out by the sudden height change.

“It is odd” You muttered “I am used to you all being so small and adorable and needing my help and just generally being cute. But now…”

“Now we are sexy and manly and big and strong” Jimin puffed his chest making Jungkook and Taehyung laugh.

“You can admit it we are beautiful,” Seokjin said

One night you hid it in your closet thinking that maybe it was best to forget it all like it was all a dream. But it wasn’t. They would pop up with another live stream smiling and dropping little hints as if hoping you were watching.

“We really enjoy the Tiny Tan animation videos going around and we are planning to contact the artist and work with them, to create something” Hoseok grinned

You hadn’t left your bed in days hoping that you would soon forget that one day you would wake with no memory of the boys. But the notifications on your videos brought you back to the present.

Life had gone from bad too worse everything was going wrong; family, friends, job, and school work.

Your friends alienated you because you didn’t have time for you anymore so they stopped inviting you to things. Your parents continued their usual.

“you're wasting your life and you aren’t doing anything” “What’s the point of us paying for your college?” “When will you get a job?”

You were sick of their complaining and just everything screaming at you, you were unhappy truly.

Walking through the front door you see your friends all getting ready to go out and they went quiet looking around awkwardly.

Dropping your bag and taking off your shoes you received a call, “Good afternoon this is Y/n speaking” you looked in the fridge for something to eat.

“Hello miss Y/n this is Sejin,” Sejin introduced himself “I am calling to offer you flights to Korea for a week, the boys are feeling quite down and they mentioned wanting to see you” “Is it okay if I think about it and get back to you?” “Of course”

You just walked past your friends hearing a few whispered comments about yourself. Exhausted stepping into your room you flipped back on your bed staring holes at your cupboard.

Unable to hold back any longer you, opened the door and took the dollhouse from the top shelf and placed it on your desk. You opened the front panel and inside you saw a full-sized letter. It was obvious they had snuck it in your bag before you left Korea.

“Dear Y/n, we were not the best guests in your home. We are sorry for making you cry. We all hope to meet you once again. Namjoon” they had each written a tiny little message underneath with similar messages.

“If you ever miss my handsome face, come see us, also I need someone to make me those delicious snacks you make TT visit again soon, Jin”

“I would like you to know I will cherish the memories and photos we took together, Jimin”

“I hope you always feel welcome to visit, Taehyung”

“Whenever I feel down I will think back to the times we had together, your hope”

“I don’t like to play favorites but you are my favorite Army. You made me so happy and treated us like people, Jungkook”

You couldn’t help the tears that fell especially when you saw Yoongi’s comment. “What is keeping you there? You are miserable. Come join BigHit and take any position you wish. I am just being selfish and rude because you are leaving, Yoongi”

Taking out your suitcase you shoved everything inside, clothes shoes and looking around, was there anything else you needed or wanted to bring.

You took your computer external justice, all your paperwork, and zipped up your suitcase. Calling Sejin back.

“Actually Sejin does the offer still stand that I can get a job in Korea?” You said rolling out to the kitchen opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water and some fruit. “Well that’s the other reason why we were calling you back, Mr. Bang really wants to offer you a job” “Listen I will take it, is it too much of a bother to ask for a place to stay?”

“Of course we can find you a small apartment,” Sejin said “you would work as an assistant manager so you would work with me if you want you can have any job you would like,” he said and the girls were looking at you. “What’s the earliest flight you can get me there? I am packed and ready to go as we speak?”

“I can get you on the next available flight. How far are you away from the airport?” “An hour?” “I can get you a plane in two hours?” “Perfect I will be there”

Hanging up you felt a sense of relief “I’m leaving my parents will grab my stuff, so please do not stress. Our lease is up in a month so I will pay it out”

“Where are you going?” Your roommate asked hugging you

“Korea, I got a job a house and a few friends that I miss dearly” you hugged all your friends and sighed “I have been miserable after they left and I don’t think I can live without them”

“Good luck and have fun”

“Listen I will call you, I will keep in touch and if you ever want to come see Korea hit me up” you grinned “I am sorry for ghosting you all because I was sad but I think this is what I need”

With your bag in tow, you took a taxi to the airport and boarded the next plane to Korea, the whole way you were watching over the videos you and the boys recorded together.

Getting a notification for a new Live you watched it happily. The boys were talking about things being slow and they wish they could see their Army and perform.

Namjoon received a text and read it silently before grinning wildly. “I got a message from manager-nim” he grinned, showing the others his cell phone and they all grinned.

“Here to Korea?” Taehyung asked excitedly

“Yes and permanently” Yoongi read the text. “As Sejin’s assistant manager”

The comments were going off, “Army we have a new assistant manager please be kind they are a wonderful person who took care of us and brought us back to Korea when we had gone missing”

Jimin read the comments with a laugh. “SAM, SAM, SAM? Why do they keep saying three? What does that mean? Three?”

“Saviour Assistant Manager” Hoseok read over his shoulder laughing.

Tags: @victory0461 @gqmf-bangtanmama @simplymemyself

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSLE (Limited edition)

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find it a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

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deanisdarkness · 3 years

Note

Because of course I'm still hung up on the finale (even though I truly don't acknowledge the Dabb era as canon, merely TERRIBLE fanfiction since it adhered to nothing previously established in the show), it was already shown what Sam's life would be like without Dean, and it didn't include a wife and a kid. In Lebanon, Dean never came to get him, and Sam ended up as some kind of kale eating robot decrying the use of having a family. Now, you can argue that having Dean in his life changed him 1/2

but why would it? If Dean was truly nothing more than a speed bump keeping Sam from his apple pie life, then Sam *should have gone on to his apple pie life in the first place.* There isn't anything about Sam's life that indicates his deep, burning desire to have a family. To get out of the life, sure, but not to have a family. Either Lebanon is wrong in showing a Dean-less Sam as a robot, or the ending is wrong in showing Dean-less Sam as a family man. They were both written by Dabb, so... 2/2

Yeah like I've said before there's no point in making sense of this clusterfuck. The episode isn't consistent within itself -- like we don't know why Dean suddenly decided to die without fighting, why Sam didn't do anything to save Dean, why no one came to Dean's funeral, why Sam suffered for decades instead of joining his brother in perfect heaven -- and you expect Dabb to remember stuff from last season? Lol.

But tbh, Sam's so called apple pie life was far from happy. His wife (or whatever, consult Jared) is a faceless blur, his son bears his dead brother's name, and Sam lives like a zombie and cries sitting in Impala. And he dies surrounded by photos of dead family members and a son who is basically a replacement. So if you take away the son, Sam is essentially living a miserable life, just like how the Sam in Lebanon did. I know Jared calls this life a success, but I'm hard pressed to understand why.

I'll always resent this finale but there were ways to make it look better, if Dabb had an ounce of talent. Show us brothers spending a few years hunting before Dean meets rebar. Show us Sam trying to get help, show us Sam praying to Jack/Cas/Rowena whatever. Show that Sam cared and tried and then went on to live a life to honor his brother. Even though he didn't want to. That at least would have made sense.

What we have right now is just stupid nonsense. Like you said, according to Lebanon, Sam doesn't even want a normal life. Heck, letting go of the unrealistic dream of normal life was part of Sam's character development. But the finale throws that out and puts him in a miserable "normal" life and calls it a win. Exactly like how it puts Dean in Stepford heaven and calls it perfect.

Yeah, it'd be super easy for Jensen to dismiss the finale as some kind of djinn dream if he ever gets to do that reboot. Like super easy.

#anon asks #answered #sam and dean

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infinitegalahad · 4 years

Text

I’ll Make A Man Out Of You (Ch.1)

Summary: To save your ailing brother from the war, you disguise yourself as a man to fight in the war. There you met Eugene Roe, a Cajun medic. The two of you grow close to each other, but at what cost? A story of bravery, the harshness of war, bravery, friendship, and love.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: N/a

A/N: I do NOT know how the hell I wrote this and how it turned out this long. What started as a dream escalated into a google doc of 10k words. I apologize in advance; this is my first BoB fic and not beta-read. I decided to show some good old love for my Eugene boy by not doing my schoolwork and writing this mess. I hope to finish this fic by the end of the year (or month even). The other chapters won't be as long. Hope you Enjoy! ;)

It all started with a damned flyer.

Your thumb played with the scrunched edge. In bolded blue and the red letters it read,

"I want YOU for The U.S. Army. Enlist NOW!"

Uncle Sam, an American figure, pointed in your face. A small smile appeared on your face as it reminded you of your twin brother, Jack.

-----

You'll never forget the day of December 7th. Your mother had woken you and your brother up. Pearl Harbor had just been bombed. Even when the world felt like it was falling apart, your parents sent you to school. Jack and his friends wouldn't shut up about it. Every class you had, whether it was physics or Algebra two, talked about the bombings. America didn't intervene in the war with Europe. One of the girls in your Algebra class Nancy, was talking with her clique.

"There's no way they can do it!" A girl cried, "They can't send our men over!"

Nancy twirled a pencil in her fingers, "They can! The Japs declared war on us. My brothers are too young, but I'm sure my dad's gonna enlist. Every man has gotta do so."

Nancy had a point. It was so bizarre to you that the war had come to your shores now. You knew once you got home, your parents wouldn't stop talking about the war. After all, it was history in the making. The bell had rung, and you grabbed your books, heading out the door to meet up with Jack and his friends. Your twin brother and you were close to anything in the world. Jack was your best friend. Sure, at times, he could be a doofus, but he was everything to you. The two of you were only inseparable. You and Jack met up in the hallway, along with his friends Frank and Harry. Frank and Harry couldn't shut up about how excited they were to fight the Japanese. Frank said he was gonna make sure to bring his swiss blade with him, just in case.

The minute you walked out of the school building, posters were being shoved into your face. It was all too much to take in at once. Men dressed in green uniforms flooded the school and town. Picking up the posters, you noticed that they were drafting signs in colorful colors. They ranged, saying, "Want Action? Join the U.S. Marine Corps" or "Smack 'Em Down! Fly High With The U.S. Marines". Pearl Harbor had been bombed only eight hours ago, and draft posters were already in your small town. Jack dragged you back home as you ran into the house. Your father and mother, who were usually keeping the cows milked and crops growing, were glued to the small T.V. screen. Your father had left a newspaper on the couch. Reading the headline, your heart dropped.

"U.S. DECLARES WAR ON JAPAN"

Not even a day had gone by, and now there was a war and an apparent draft.

------

A week had gone by, and your little town in Vermont had gone wild. All of the boys and young men in the city were currently enlisting left and right. It was the non-stop talk. The boys raved about the pacific and killed Hitler while the girls cried, scared they wouldn't get married after high school. Just like anyone else, the war made your anxiety rise.

Jack and you were both born with Polio. Thankfully your Polio hadn't been severe, and with years of therapy, you had managed to live somewhat everyday life. On the other hand, Jack wasn't the luckiest. Polio had taken his teenage years away from him. Two years ago, he had to stop playing all sports and start using a cane. He was like an old man stuck in an eighteen-year old's body. Polio refused to bring down his spirits. As a child, Jack had been fascinated with war. Your father was a war hero himself. Jack felt like it was his duty to carry the family legacy. Even with protest, Jack was enlisted and was set to be drafted.

As each day went on, the fights between Jack and your parents escalated. Jack's Polio was getting worse each year. He tried to walk with his brace instead of a cane, which ended miserably. It pained Jack since all he wanted to do was fight., but there was no way he couldn't. He would make it to training camp and probably hurt himself in the process. As his sister and closest friend, you couldn't let him do this to himself.

Jack kicked the door open with his cane as he walked down the dirt path. He had just gotten into another fight with your parents, but it was worse. More yelling, crying, and anger. You followed after him, trailing behind him.

"Jack, please," You begged on the verge of tears yourself, "Listen to them! Dad says, you won't last!"

"I don't care what that man has to say," He barked back as he continued to walk faster, "I'm goin'. Every man has to fight for our country. Dad's too old to go. I ain't havin' those krauts rome around."

It was either Jack or your ailing father. Your father was a hard worker but was slowing down with age. He would die within the next few years, and the last thing you wanted for him was to die a cruel and brutal death.

You walked up to his back and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You'll die!"

"WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH?" His voice rang as he pushed you back with his cane. Jack was too aggressive, causing you to fall onto the dirt ground. You could feel the scraps and blood form on the palms of your hands. "YOU'RE A WOMAN! YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THIS! YOUR SUPPOSE TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE KIDS! JUST LET ME DIE FIGHTING FOR OUR COUNTRY!"

It had hit Jack like a slap in the face. He had not only yelled but just pushed his best friend to the ground like a bully. Tears formed at your eyes as you bit your lip, crawling back. Regret was plastered on his face as he walked forward. You didn't bother to listen to him as you crawled back, running back into the house.

Your mother stood on the porch, opening her arms for comfort. The last thing you wanted to do was talk to people. Covering your eyes, you ran into the house and up the stairs to your bedroom. The door slammed behind you as tears streamed down your face.

------

For hours you sat on your bed, looking out at the Vermont night. The moon shined bright as the stars twinkle over the sky. The trees rustled the leaves as Fall transitioned into Winter. Outside of the window, you could hear the conversation that happened with your parents and brother. Instead of a fight, it was a calm conversation. Jack still held his ground. At this point, he had been begging to fight. Your mother protested, but your father shook his head and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him and saying, "Good luck, soldier." Jack walked back into the house. He stood at your door and contemplated apologizing but returned to his room.

Your poor mother stood there with her hands covering her face, sobbing. Your father tried to console her in the act of kindness, but she simply shrugged him off and ran into the house. He simply stood there with his arms by his side in defeat. Your family was being torn apart.

Forcing yourself to get out of bed, you walked to light a candle in your darkroom. Upon lighting it, it exposed all of the nostalgia from your childhood when you were simply a little girl. All the trophies, the signed baseball, jewelry handed down from your mother, and photos. Photos of your family. Pictures of you were your father on a tractor, your 6th birthday when you and your brother threw a pie at each other, and the most recent photo of you and your brother, arm in arm, at a football game. Picking it up, a small formed of your face. The thought of losing him and your father drove you mad. Your father had raised you like a son; learning how your bills, shoot a gun, and so much more. As much as your mother hated it, your father accepted that you weren't the girl that was gonna get married.

A small tear dropped onto the photo. It scrunched up in your hands as your thoughts began to race. You were anxious and apprehensive; it seemed like a reach. Like a plot out of a movie. Your family and friends had told you how you looked like the female version of Jack. You were Jack, but just with long hair. Your mother never let you cut it, saying it was so beautiful. You pulled your hair back and looked in the mirror to see yourself with short hair.

You were Jack.

You were independent and fiery.

No man was going to control your life.

-----

Herbert Sobel was one of the worst people you had ever met in your life.

He was brutal and cold. There wasn't a day that went by without him screaming at a trainee. He was infamous for taking away weekend passes and forcing the whole company to run Curahee. One creased pant or slouched shoulders and boom-weekend pass revoked. Curahee occurred three times a week and made the entire company muscled and sore. The only good thing about Sobel was George Luz's jokes. Your bed was placed right next to his. As you would hide under the covers, he would always crack a fantastic impression of him. The whole company would conceal their laughter.

"Private Y/l/n, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper?" Sobel walked in front of you, towering over your smaller frame.

Standing tall with your weapon in your hand, "No, sir."

"Then explain the creases at the bottom,"

"No excuse, sir,"

"Volunteering for the parachute infantry is one thing, Y/l/n, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here," Sobel walked ahead to go ruin someone's else day. "Your weekend pass has been revoked."

Your grasp tightened on your gun as you bit your lip. Anger ran in your hands, but one wrong move, and it would all be over. Last week, Sobel had taken your weekend pass as well.

But by far, you were positive Sobel hated you the most.

The first time you ran Curahee, you were the last person. Your average was about thirty minutes. You weren't as quick as Perconte or muscled as Bull. Sure, you had been the top runner on your cross country team, but Curahee was definitely a challenge. You were a short and scrawny teenage girl disguised as a boy.

Crawling up the dirt hill, you ran up and touched the stone. Sobel stood there with disgust on his face.

"Y/l/n," He spat, looking down at the timer. It was read thirty-two minutes, "Last as usual. Six miles back."

You ran back down the hill. Sweat ran down your face as your sticky clothes stuck to your body. The P.T. uniform for runs was a risk. It showed most of your skin and was unfortunately tight. The bandages wrapped around your chest, pained your chest and back. As much you wanted to stop, Sobel was watching you from a distance. You pushed forward as you saw the camp in the distance, the hot Georgia sun setting into the orange sky.

-----

It was another training day. You and the easy company men piled out of your shitty dormitory and lined up against the lawn. In front of you were a tall tree and an arrow on top. Everyone speculated to what it could be. Even the smart Dick Winters couldn't figure it out. Perconte predicted it was "one hell of an exercise," and which he was right.

Sobel had instructed each member of the easy company to climb up the pillar and archive the arrow. It was like a climbing Curahee. Every single person. Even the training medics had to participate.

To make it even harder, Sobel stated that every climber would have to hold two kettlebells. Everybody held back their groans. Bull was the first to go and fell right on his ass. The next was Leibgott, who tried to wrap them around and jump up, but also tumbled down. Each man took a turn, but who all fail miserably. If you failed, you would be forced to rerun Curahee and additional insulting comments from Sobel.

Leibgott held his ass as he walked by you. You made eye-contact with him as he threw the weights into your arms.

"What are you lookin' at, boney?"

Not wanting to fight, you wrapped the ribbon's weights around your hands and pushed yourself up. It felt bulky and uncomfortable as you tried to climb. You ended up like a lot of members in easy company, falling flat on your ass. Not even ten seconds, and you had failed.

"Y/l/n, your the most pathetic and spineless paratrooper I've ever seen," He hissed. Snapping out of the pain, you pushed yourself up and began to run towards the infamous hill. You were smart and knew the drill. How the hell were you going to make it?

-----

Not only were you Sobel punching bag, but seemingly the whole company. You knew people hated you when the infamous George Luz would make an impression of you. He and friends would snick at it, with Bull telling them all to shut up. In the first few weeks in training, you observed the company and how they interacted. Growing up, you were a tomboy who spent most of your time with your brother and his friends. They treated like you were one of the boys and no different from them. Playful punches, snarky remarks, and not taking daily showers seemed to be the norm. You had talked to a few members and was friendly with some but not with others.

Following your brother and his actions, you approached Liebgott and playfully punched him in the shoulder as a greeting. It turned out Liebgott didn't like people, especially you. Him, Toye, and Guarnere (his nickname made you smirk) looked at you with daggers in your eyes. You already knew what was coming. You stepped back and shut your eyes tight, praying it would pass it.

The next thing you knew, you were in the infamy with a developing black eye. Liebgott was lanky and small but certainly packed a punch. Sobel had broken up the fight, took another weekend pass away, and another run-up Curahee. As you were escorted out, Luz joked that you were Sobel's favorite punching bag. That man was painfully right.

A nurse came back and gave you an icepack. She told you that Liebgott had punched you so hard that your eye was going to be swollen shut for the next few days. Liebgott really did hate you. The nurse gave you an icepack and said she would grab some medication to help with the pain. You sat there as you held up the icepack to your battered eye. A sigh escaped your lips as you gently shook your legs backward.

How the hell were you going to get through this? You didn't know if you could make it another year. Whatever you touched died, whether it be people or your dignity. Sobel and the whole entire company hated you. Even if you wanted to give up, you couldn't. You were doing this for your brother and father. Honor your father, who fought an unimaginable war. Be the man he wanted you to be.

A loud and frustrated sigh interrupted your thoughts. Looking up, you noticed a man throw down a bandage. The dummy beneath him was covered in countless rolls of bandages. He sat back and leaned onto a pole, putting his hands on his face.

You squeezed the icepack in your hands as water dripped all over your hands. You knew Sobel's wrath all too well. Being frustrated and not knowing what the next step was. It reminded you of history class. Someone would get frustrated with reading or word, and you'd scot next to them, offering help. You considered yourself a person who kept to themselves. All the girls in your grade would get invited to parties and sleepovers, but you never did. You felt like nobody noticed you existed. Whenever you spoke or did anything out of your comfort zone, it caused chaos. You felt like a spectre in the crowd. Nobody ever noticed you.

Pushing yourself from the hard rock bed, you walked into the other room and bent down to the dummy. The training medic revealed his face. His face was red, sweaty, and stressed. He didn't speak any word as your y/e/c met with his dark blue eyes. The Georgia sun was beginning to set, and a light shined on his eyes, making them appear royal blue. His eyes reminded you of the lake behind your house. In the summers, you and your brother would sneak to the lake at sunset, hitting you with nostalgia. You relaxed your shoulders, feeling content for the first time in a year.

You held up a bandage, asking in a soft voice, "You want help?"

The blue-eyed man nodded in response. He fixed his posture and leaned forward to watch your demonstration. He had pink skin and thick black hair. His jaw was sharp, looking like it could give a papercut. Your mother was a retired veterinarian. Before you enrolled in school, your mother brought you to her workplace. Your little mind somehow remembered everything from her job.

You weren't the best at conversation, feeling frightened to talk considering all of your horrible experiences. "Um, you put the gauze here," You explained with a low voice as you held the gauze down and wrapped the bandage from top to bottom. Once the two pieces met in the middle, you grabbed them tightly and knotted them. "Tie it like a shoelace, tight but not suffocating tight."

He followed your every move and replicated it on the other arm. Whatever you had done, it had worked. Your hands moved quickly, making it seem so simple/ He struggled to hold the gauze down as he tied. You aided him by holding the gauze down as he finished knotting. His hand brushed up against yours. His cheeks grew red as he looked down, focusing on the task. There was definitely room for improvement, but it worked.

You looked up at him with a subtle smile on your face, "Looks better."

"Thanks," He rubbed the back of his neck. His accent was thick. It took you a second to decipher what he had just said. Whatever his accent was sounded southern. The closer you were to him, he looked familiar, but you couldn't put the finger on him.

There was a peaceful silence before you broke it, "What's your name?"

"Eugene, you?"

"Y/n," You replied as the empty bandage rolled slid between your fingers. That wasn't really your name, it was your brothers, but it had grown onto you.

Eugene's eyes scanned your body as his cheeks grew heated. He had been having a horrible day with the Georgia heat and lack of nurses available. He thought choosing a job as a medic would be easy since he was agile, but it proved to be a task. The only medical training he had was from boy scouts, and he hadn't attended a meeting in years.

A smile curved on his lips, and looked at you, "Y/n," He repeated your name. Something was soothing about his accent. He reminded you of an iceberg, slowly melting. "What happened to your eye?"

"I got punched by Leibgott," You nodded your head. Eugene was the first person that treated you like a human. He didn't make fun of you, and It was refreshing. He didn't laugh or make a mean remark. All he did was sit there and listen.

A nurse popped her head into the room and gave you the pain medication. She told you that Sobel needed you back at training. You looked out the window and saw the easy company men climbing up the tree and all failing.

You stood up and swallowed the meds. Before you left, you looked back and waved to Eugene. "Bye, Eugene."

He seemed caught off guard and tilted his head up, "Bye, y/n."

For the time in a year, you felt like you could actually breathe and smile. Smile about Eugene's smile.

-----

From that day forward, Eugene had become your friend. You returned to the infirmary and stumbled upon him. What started off with helping him become a better medic formed into a friendship. Eugene was the only person you felt comfortable with within the whole camp. Sure, Dick Winters and Bull treated you with kindness, but he treated you like a human being with Eugene.

The two of you would share cigarettes, stolen chocolate, and thousands of little stories. Eugene wasn't a man of many words. He was someone who observed. Whenever you ranted, even if it was about the dumbest thing, he could sit and listen. It turned out Eugene lived in your bunk. The man was silent as a mouse and, like you, kept to himself. Unlike you, he avoided trouble. Somehow, you always ended up in it.

Eugene helped you with your black eye. He offered you a bunch of little tricks on how to make it better. Eugene used his hands a lot and usually held a compress to your face as you relaxed. He gave you some anti-swelling medication along with some fruits he snuck that apparently helped "heal" the pain.

"Jack, where you from?" He asked you one night. The two of you couldn't sleep. George Luz was a horrible bunkmate and couldn't resist snoring. Eugene had tip-toed to your bed and held up a pack of cigarettes. The two of you made gestures that only you and Eugene understood. Slipping out of bed, the two of you ran behind the camp to smoke. You laid right next to Eugene as cigarettes hung from your lips, looking into the stary sky.

Typically, you initiated a lot of the conversation. But tonight, it was different. Eugene turned his body over to you, watching his every move. He wasn't much older than you, about two years. He hated when you smoked, feeling guilty that he had gotten you on such a bad habit. You grew up with parents who smoked, so it wasn't anything new. Cigarettes calmed your anxiety.

"Vermont. Stowe, it's near the Candian border," You said as a smoke puff escaped your mouth, "You?"

"Louisiana. Bayou Chene, you know it?"

"No idea," You chuckled as you threw your finished cigarette to the side. You scrambled through your pocket and placed a cigarette in your mouth but couldn't find your damned lighter. You probably left it at your bunk.

Eugene scooted closer. It took you back as you tuned your face towards his. His face leaned into yours as the tip of your cigarettes caressed. Eugene's cigarette light you as smoke emerged from your mouth. Your faces were so close as his dark blue eyes burned into your soul. At first, Eugene seemed distant. You thought he hated you because everyone did. But to the best of ability, he proved that he didn't hate you. He was like a shy plant that you were watering. Each day Eugene blossomed as you got to know him more. Your cheeks grew as your fingers grasped against the grass. You could get lost in Eugene's big blue eyes. Swim into oblivion and never come back.

No, you couldn't. You were Private y/n y/l/n, not y/n.

You let out a fake cough, and Eugene noticed, backing up to the spot he once was in. You laid as a cigarette dragged on your lips, looking at the starry sky. Eugene was the only person that treated you with kindness. You could let your guard down in front of him. Your voice was soft whenever you were around him, relaxed shoulders, and your daily serotonin simply being delivered by his mere presence. His Cajun accent made you weak. You could listen to it for hours on end; it was like a sweet lullaby. It seemed like you two had found something in each other that you seemingly couldn't find with the rest of the company.

Eugene had turned his head to look back at you and see how relaxed you were. He was at a loss for words. Seeing you calm made him calm. He had seen you cry, run, and almost every emotion in such a short amount of time. Eugene considered himself to be a loner, but what he felt was his friend.

"Vermont's got a lot of snow, doesn't it?"

You turned and met with his face once again, smiling, "Lots of it in the winter."

"I've never seen it before, 's tew hot down there." Eugene mumbled, "I hate the heat."

"You should come to Stowe, y' know, after the kraut's surrender," You offered as you took the cigarette out of your mouth and waved it around. "I'll take you skiing."

It was a forward move, but Eugene was your friend, after all. Nothing more than just a friend. He tilted his head, "I can't ski 'doe."

"I'll teach you. You'll see how fun it is," You explained, shifting yourself up as you put your chin in your palm. The stars twinkled in Eugene's eyes.

"Ok?"

"Ok."

Eugene grabbed your hand, and you shook it back. His much larger hand-squeezed yours before sliding away. It took you by surprise. Before Sobel could take out another weekend pass, the two of you ushered back to the camp.

It was a deal.

-----

Sobel had once again decided to ruin the company's day by calling them back into the dorm. Nobody knew exactly why, which made the whole situation even worse. Piling into the dorm, Sobel stood in front of your bed, revealing a big bloodstain. He questioned all of the men on it before you came forward and admitted it was you. The makeshift pad you had made apparently didn't work.

"Give me a good reason to why you bled the bed, Private y/l/n," Sobel demanded as he stood in front of you.

Your eyes looked at the bed as you scrambled to find a good excuse. Of course, your period had to act up today. Your hands rested on your back as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"I had a scab on my leg, and I picked it in the night, sir." You muttered low, not wanting the other men to hear.

Sobel knew what you said, but after all, you were his punching back.

"Private, repeat yourself. Louder this time."

"I had a scab on the back of my leg, and I was picking at it, sir." You repeated, louder. Some of the men held back their snickers. You knew Liebgott was getting a kick out of this. Eugene looked at the stain and then you, pity in his big blue eyes.

Sobel walked past you, "Private y/l/n, do you wet the bed at night?"

Sobel's face looked so punchable at the moment. These men held in their laughter as you tried to find your words to respond. What was a good excuse for your period? Your father always taught you to be honest (even though you had been lying for a whole year).

"I...did, sir." You admitted.

Sobel huffed under his breath, "This isn't sleepaway camp. You will run up Curahee, and I expect to see you up there in fifteen minutes. In gear."

Not only did you have to run in 90-degree weather, but in heavy gear that made you look like a child in pajamas. The rest of the men piled out of the dorm for dinner. Perconte gave you a sympathetic look. He always seemed to do that whenever Sobel had tortured you once more. The last person who left the room, Eugene looked at you. You didn't even need to speak; his eyes screamed pity. Eugene knew you didn't pee the bed.

-----

You had run Curahee thousands of times, but today it had been hell. It was hot and sticky, the sun was setting, and you had heavy (and smelly) gear dragging you down. The rifle that hanged from your hands was dragging you down, and your whole body was aching with pain. The only thing you wanted to do in the world was punch Sobel's stupid nose off and sob. You had cried silently but hadn't sobbed. You were never alone in this company. You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to last. You felt alone, scared, and a pathetic excuse for a paratrooper.

Footsteps rumbled behind you. They got louder as you could eventually hear the clanging of dog tags. Stopping your sniffling, you turned to your right and saw Eugene. It was starting to get dark and humid outside, so you assumed it was a hallucination, but it wasn't. Eugene was right next to you, dressed in all his gear as he ran right beside you.

"Shit, Gene?" You said, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

"Hey 'dere y/n," He replied, looking up and down your body. He saw your physical and emotional exhaustion, "You doin' okay?"

Emotions made you seem weak, and everybody perceived you as soft. Subtly sniffling, you turned and stored your sadness away once more. "Yeah, 'm fine," You quirked an eyebrow, "Now what in the hell are you doin' here?"

As Eugene ran beside you, his shoulder bumped against yours a little. It was a minor detail that made your cheeks grow red, "Thought you'd like some company... y' know since we're a company."

A small snort escaped your mouth as you guys ran. Did he run through hell just for you? No one that really ever done that before. Eugene and you had grown so close to each other in such a short amount of time. It was the little things that proved Eugene was your friend. "Gene, Sobel's gonna take away your weekend pass,"

"'S not like I got anythin' better to be doin' with my time," Eugene said as sweat dripped down his face. His helmet was too big for his head and tilted. "Rather be with you 'den anythin' else."

Right then in there, you would've dropped to the ground. You had to be hallucinating. With the heat and impending night, your head was spinning right now. Maybe Eugene was too friendly, or perhaps he was flirting with you. Whenever you were about to cry in your sleep, a thought of Eugene would pop up. A smile would appear on your face. Just thinking about seeing him, bringing you a small dose of serotonin.

"Even if it means running through hell and having Sobel scream in your face?"

Eugene looked and you and nodded. He was a true friend, loyal, and kind.

You laughed as the two of you turned the corner. Sobel was on top of the dreadful hill, squinting his eyes as he saw you and Eugene. Sobel usually looked unhappy, but he was prepared to give you and Eugene another standoffish remark.

You groaned under your breath at Sobel's far presence, "You sure you wanted to do this?"

"'S worth it, y/n." Eugene said, "Rather be 'ere."

Those words stuck with you the three miles up and the three miles down.

-----

Once you arrived back at camp, the sun had already gone down. It was already eight. On your run down, you had fallen. It was caused by your cramps and dehydration. Eugene practically dragged (and somewhat carried) you back to camp. Sobel was not impressed whatsoever. The men of the easy company saw you being removed to the infirmary. The nurses kept a close eye on you and shoved water down your throat.

One of them gave you a pat on the back and told you to return to the dormitory. You were exhausted as you walked outside into the night. All you wanted to do was crawl into that stonecold bed and doze off about Eugene.

"Private y/l/n," A familiar voice called. You turned and straightened your position. There Sobel stood, looking angered at your presence, as usual.

"Sir," Is all you could respond with. Sobel had triggered your flight or fight response.

"I'm concerned with your wellbeing in the camp," Sobel began to explain. Whatever he was going to say, you knew it wasn't good, "You've been with easy company for almost a year now, and you've shown little to no change. Your disobedient, spineless, and unable to complete simple tasks. I firmly believe you will not ever be prepared for combat,"

"Permission to speak, sir," You tried not to interrupt him.

"Denied, I'm not finished," He coldly spoke, "You're unsuited for the rage of war. I would not trust you with a man, let alone a weapon. You don't belong in easy company, or any company for that matter. You're done here."

Words were unfathomable. A year of pure pain, and it was all for nothing. You were a soldier and couldn't act out of line. All you could do was stand there and hold in your tears and anger.

"Your father was a commander y/f/n y/l/n, correct?"

"Yes, sir," You said, low as words choked in your throat. Your father was a commander in world war one. He was a short-order than you and had a position similar to Sobel's. Like your brother, he was unwell to fight. He was aging and slowing down every day.

"I would trust Captain y/ln in combat, but not private y/l/n," He sneered with venom in his voice. He began to walk past you, "Go home, you're through."

He had stabbed your heart. You looked like a disappointment in front of him and your father. Sobel had proved that you were nothing but useless. You simply stood there as you relaxed your shoulders, feeling a small tear stream down your cheek. As much as tears begged to come out of you're eyes, you couldn't let them bring you down. Looking inside, Eugene was right there. He had seen and heard everything Sobel had said. Typically Eugene looked emotionless, but his face felt your pain. All you did at that moment was turn your heel and walk back.

"Voleunting for the parachute infantry is one thing, Y/l/n, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here."

"Y/l/n, you're the most pathetic and spineless paratrooper I've ever seen,"

"Go home; you're through."

"You don't belong in easy company, or any company for that matter. You're done here."

All Sobel saw you were is disobedient, spineless, and unable to complete simple tasks. It was his words and not yours. They filled you with rage, frustration, and dejection. Within the past year, you had proven you were nothing but a fool. Maybe it was for the better. You wouldn't even trust yourself in combat. Sobel had made sure you hated yourself even more than you already did. If you weren't a good housewife, then there was no way in hell you were going to be a paratrooper.

Walking back to the dorm, you noticed that damned pillar. It reached high into the sky, reflecting the moonlight. The drill, even though nobody could do it, was still used by Sobel. Months had gone by, and no man in the company had been able to climb it. With the heat and weights, it was near impossible. Regardless, Sobel still tortured the company. What the hell did it even have to do with being a paratrooper.

Almost every time, you fell right on your ass with Sobel screaming in your ear and Liebgott snickering. But you were alone with your thoughts running through your head. Sobel's words that left a permeant mark on you. It was like a dark vein had wrapped around your limbs, dragging you into the ground as you struggled to fight. All you wanted to do was give up and succumb to the darkness you knew all too well.

But you weren't going to succumb tonight or ever.

You grabbed the kettlebells and jumped on the pole, only to fall onto your butt again. It hurt, and you were tired, but the pure rage was driving you. You would push yourself back up, and no matter how many times you well, you repeated. You weren't going to be considered weak and pushed away. All you knew at the moment was that you weren't going to leave this camp without a fight.

After hundreds of times of falling, you noticed a small detail. The kettlebells weighed the same and were meant to drag you down. But if you wrapped your whole body around the pole and simply pushed like your life had depended on it, then maybe it could work. Perhaps you could rub the fact that you weren't disobedient or spineless to Sobel.

Stepping back and running towards the pillar, you jumped up and wrapped your arms and legs around it. You slipped but yourself up. It was an uncomfortable position, but you had just made progress. The weights were dragging you down, but all you do was fight and push like your life had depended on it.

Dawn was arriving as the sky turned into a pinkish-blue hue. The sun slowly came over the hills as it shined upon the camp. Sobel wanted men at the crack of drawn. They had woken up to you halfway through climbing up Sobel's most challenging task. Most of them were in shock, considering that it had been out of all of the people, you. he one that George Luz had labeled as "Sobel's Punching Bag." Not Spiers or Winters, but you.

"Can you believe what I'm seeing?" Luz looked up, crossing his arms.

"Sobel beat them up, I bet money," Perconte said.

"Maybe Bones finally gained some muscle from all that damn runnin," Toye added.

"You idiots, it's none of 'dat." Guarnere interrupted, frustrated at his friends, "It's crack, for sure."

All the men in easy company looked at Guarnere, horrified, and confused. Guarnere didn't know why they all looked so shocked. He was confident he was right.

"Oh, come on, you kidding me?" Liebgott smirked as he looked at you climb. You were halfway there but slipping down. "Bones can't make it through Curahee through dyin, watch 'em fall, and break 'dere back."

Winters, being the mature one, had started cheering like an enthusiastic dad at a football. He knew there was some hidden talent in you. Slowly, all of the men began to cheer and whistle, even Liebgott. You noticed their cheers as you pulled up. The sun was starting to blind you, but it wasn't time to give you. A few more pushes, and you would be at the top.

Eugene had seen you storm out. He could feel your pain from a mile away. Seeing a small tear stream down your cheek made him feel human again. Toccoa had ripped his emotions away from you. You were the only thing that reminded him that there was right in the world. Not wanting to interrupt you, Eugene watched you from a distance. The way you screamed in frustration and fell. He knew it was creepy, but he had been cheering on for you. When you had managed to begin climbing, he smiled—a genuine, happy smile.

"allez, poussez juste…" Eugene muttered as he fidgeted with his fingers. You were so close to defeating Sobel's challenge.

Eugene knew you could do it.

There you sat, looking down at all the men who cheered you on. The breeze flew through your short hair, which was slowly starting to grow out. You smiled as you looked down, waving to all the men causing a commotion. It was like a miracle had happened.

Sobel had heard all of the commotions and walked back to the camp. Much to his surprise, he saw you, sitting on top of the pilar as you waved down to the men. You were like a god on a pedestal waving to your followers. That's not what you viewed yourself as, but you felt respected for once. Heck, even Liebgott cheered for you. You saw Eugene and smiled at him, giving him a small wave. He waved back, a smile on his face as well.

Maybe you were cut out to be a paratrooper.

-----

It was like a rebirth had occurred. No longer were you the weak link of the chain. It took time, but you rose above your piers and gained their respect. Sobel, impressed and shocked, had given you a second chance. You proved to him and your company that you were worthy of being a paratrooper. Sobel was still horrible to you, but it didn't matter. Whatever he threw at you, you and the company would complete it. No matter the runs up Curahee or twelve-mile marches, easy company persisted.

Jumping out of a moving plane, you and the company were officially paratroopers. After almost two years of living hell, you had somehow managed to do it. You had no idea how you did, but you had done it. Maybe it was Eugene's silent encouragement or the company's respect, or even Sobel's nasty remarks.

You were a paratrooper now. You hoped your father was proud of you.

-----

The night of the jump, the company had discovered a lake behind Camp Toccoa. You and Eugene had known about it for years, considering it your safe haven. You would even travel there yourself to take a dip in the lake where you were y/n, not Jack. It was another humid night in Georgia, so a nice drop wouldn't hurt. As long as you kept yourself hidden, you considered it to be safe.

Throwing off your gear, you took a dive into the water. It was cold but refreshed your body. You laid on your back as you shut your eyes, enjoying the water rush against your body. The only visible part of your body was your head and toes. There you could wash your body and be alone, away from all the discord. You washed your body and hair, feeling clean for the first time in a long time. Instead of smelling like dirt, you smelt like vanilla. Being a man had its perks but also its cons. You didn't even want to get started on male hygiene. Eugene would have been excellent company, but it was too risque. Two years into training, and the last thing you needed was your identity being discovered. Being a man took time to adapt to. You thought since you had hung out with your brother and his friends, it wouldn't be challenging, but you had been proven wrong. But there was no point in looking at the past. Now the men treated you like one. Even Liebgott respected you. He called you by your name instead of "Bones." It was the bare necessities, but it felt nice to be treated somewhat like a person.

The peace had been interrupted by a wave drowning your face. Freaking out, your body flipped as you turned your head to find the commotion. In the distance were a few easy company men diving into the water and swimming close to your location. Mentally cursing, you began to swim back to your area and get the hell out of there.

"Hey! Jack Rabbit!" A deep and rough voice Philly voice called. It was none other than the infamous Guarnere. Instead of Bones, your new nickname was Jack Rabbit. It was because you were fast in the line of action.

Turning around, you saw Liebgott, Webster, Toye, Guarnere, and Luz. They were all butt naked and proud. It made you cringe instead. Two years living with guys, and you still refused to be around them, nude.

You flashed a smile and waved as your head was the only thing that emerged from the water. "Um..hey guys! I didn't even know you were here!"

Liebgott, Luz, and Webster all had their eyes on you, like prey on a predator. Guarnere and Toye could be anywhere. Their glares, which were meant to be friendly, burned into your soul. It made you feel uncomfortable. The water felt like it was on fire. Your only priority was to get out.

"So now I'm clean, and I'm gonna go" You flashed a smile as you waved, kicking quickly under the water, "Bye!"

"Oh, come on!" Liebgott said as he saw on his back right next to you. A leaf thankful covered up his privates. He was less than an inch away from you. You descended into the water as your hands wrapped around your chest.

"I know I punched ya', and was mean to ya'-"

Webster interrupted as he laid on his back, looking at the sky, "Practically harassed and assaulted Jack Rabbit until he-"

"Shut ya' trap, college boy," Liebgott turned around and flicked water in Webster's face to disrupt his peaceful mediation, "Anyways, listen, I know we're all to jerks to you before, but let's start over."

He was right up your face as he held out his hand, a dumb smirk on his face, "Joe Liebgott."

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook his hand briefly, "Nice to meet ya…"

As you backed up in the water, you ran right into George Luz, who looked as jolly as ever. Even in the water, he still had a cigarette in his mouth, "George Luz, but you can call me Luz."

"Will do, Luz!" You had to go. Your heart rate was gonna drag you into the bottom of your lake.

"And I am Guarnere," A raspy voice called. You all looked up to see a naked (and confident) Guarnere stand on a rock, a full display of his genitalia. Your cheeks flushed red as your hand hid from the grotesque view, "King of the rock! And 'deres nothin' you girls can do about it!"

Toye happened to be on the rock and pushed Guarnere, knocking a block off his big ego. He sighed as he stood on the rock, his member also loud and proud in the night. "I think Jack Rabbit's already been traumatized enough tonight,"

"You call 'Ol Gonorrhea king of the rock?" Luz snorted as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, "I think me and Jack Rabbit can take you up that offer!"

Sliding under Luz, you began to swim away as you said, "I actually really don't wanna take up that offer."

'Oh, come on!" Luz swam close to you as he grabbed your arm, dragging you back, "Don't be such a gi-ow! Something just bit me!"

All you needed was a good excuse, "Must've been a..um...water snake!"

Luz turned to you, horror on his face. "Snake? SNAKE?" He screeched like a little girl, along with all of the other men as they swam for the rock. Toye looked at all of them, disappointment in their faces. Guarnere put on a stern face and claimed nothing in the water much to everyone's hysteria. It was your chance to escape. Swimming to the nearest (and most secluded) part of the land, you crawled out of the water and hid by a shrub. Once their voices began to disappear, you let out a sigh of relief.

"I never wanna see a naked man ever again…" You groaned as the imagine haunted your break. That was certainly a close call. Shaking them out, you looked around. Wherever you had swum to was unfamiliar, full of shrubs and twigs. The moonlight illuminated the lake as the stars twinkled in the sky. You were freezing and wanted to put your clothes back on now that you actually smelled decent for the first time in a while. Not having any cover meant walking back in with thorns scraping against your thigh. After that experience, you did not want to ever experience that again or see Guarnere brag about his member's size.

You began to recognize the area where you had left all of your gear. There were no voices or noises except for grasshoppers' sounds, and the wind brustling against the trees. The coast seemed clear.

Stepping out of the bush, your eyes saw your clothes on the rock. Shaking a few leaves from your hair, you let out a relieved sigh as you walked to the rock, not aware that someone had been watching you.

Picking up a towel, you noticed a figure in the corner of your eye. It seemed like a flash. As your head turned to look, the towel dropped from your hands as your heart dropped into your stomach.

It was Eugene.

He had seen you nude. Your breasts and female part-everything. He was just in much as a shock as you were. Both of you were frozen in place. Eugene's cheeks and nose flustered red as he looked down at your body. It had been a long time since he had seen a woman. He knew he shouldn't have looked, but it was so much to take in at once. It came as a shock to him and you.

You threw up your hands, at a loss of words, "Wait, I can explain...all of this!"

"Y-you're...a girl," Eugene murmured. He seemed shocked but not mortified.

As you created a mental response, Eugene and you heard the rumbling of a jeep. It was none other than Sobel. He most likely found out the company ditched camp to go swim in the lake, resulting in everyone losing their weekend pass. You could see the jeep in the distance park right beside a rock that hid you and Eugene. The door to the jeep slammed shut, signaling that Sobel was on a mission to bust whoever was at the lake.

You were naked, a woman, and frozen in fear. This all had to be some nightmare.

"'ere, c'mon," Eugene walked over and grabbed your hand, pulling you into a shrub. There was not a lot of room, so you were practically sitting on Eugene. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation considering that you were butt naked. Your legs peered out of the bush, and Eugene gently grabbed your waist, pulling you back, so you were completely hidden.

It was too dark to see anything, but you could hear footsteps and Sobel yell at the men in the lake. You could listen to the splashing of water, and Sobel grabbed something (you assumed your clothes) and storming back into his jeep. Once it jumpstarted, you let out a sigh of relief, but you weren't in the clear still. Your body had melted into Eugene's, his hand on your waist and chest. His breath was heavy against your neck. He hadn't smelt something good in weeks, familiar with the smell of dirt—your buzzed hair smelt like lavender and your body, vanilla. Not to mention your y/s/c skin was glossy and smooth.

Eugene's calloused hand rested not too far from your breast. It weighed on it, right next to your nipple. Once you realized, you were in absolute horror.

The next thing Eugene knew was that he had your foot kicked into his face as he tumbled out of the bush. You stood there were your hands wrapped around your chest, mortified and embarrassed.

"You Pervert!" You snarled, stepping back. Sobel had taken your clothes as you cursed. Just when things seemed like they were going good, they were all going down. "I trusted you, and this is what happens? You stalk me and grab my chest and…" A disgusted groan escaped your lip.s You couldn't even finish your sentence without wanting to throw up.

Eugene crawled back to rock as he wiped the blood trickling from his nose. He rose his eyebrows and shook his head, "No, 'dats not why I came, Jack. I came because-"

"Because you wanted to see me naked?"

"No, I…" The Cajun looked embarrassed to admit it. Letting out a massive sign, he pushed himself to stand. A bruise was already forming on his nose, "Saw all 'da boys headin' to the lake. The one we discovered before any of 'dem did. I was tryin' to look for you, but you weren't 'dere, so I came 'ere and... you're a woman."

The heat grew on your cheeks. You didn't have any clothes and felt exposed. You were too embarrassed to see Eugene was blushing himself.

Eugene had known you for two whole years and felt like he knew almost everything about you, but this hit him like a train. He was feeling so many emotions at once; surprise, disbelief, and amazement. Something about this situation made his heart jitter. He had no idea how to describe it. Seeing you so vulnerable and shivering caused him to slowly walk over and take off his olive green chore jacket, throwing aside over your shoulder.

You backed up, startled. You had gone two years without anyone knowing; now it was over. A small thank you escaped your lips as you pulled the other jacket around it. It was huge on your body and just smelled like Eugene. You now felt horrible. He was too much of a kind person to want to grope you. In fact, he had saved you from being discovered.

"Why'd you come here?" You asked as you pulled the jacket tighter to your body.

He hesitated to respond as he rubbed the back of his neck but eventually let loose. "Because I wanted to find you. Not to discover...y'know. Thought you'd be 'ere."

"I'm sorry about punching you; I thought you…"

"Sobel was gonna see your legs; I didn't want him to see you."

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at Eugene. If It had been any other soldier, you were sure they would turn you in. But with Eugene, it seemed like he wanted to help you. "Wait...but...why?"

"Well, you were naked...and a woman. Plus, it's Sobel," Eugene explained. He did have a point with Sobel.

Eugene didn't fully answer your question. "But why did you really hide me? You could've just sent me home".

"Why would I wanna ever do that?" Eugene perplexed, "Listen, y/n, for two years, you hid as a man. You trained, and now you're a paratrooper and Imma medic. I don't know how the hell you pulled it off, but you did. When I first saw you, there was...somethin' off. You were the tinier 'den all of them. When I saw the stain on your bed...I figured it out. I can't believe it's true…"

A huff escaped your lips, and you buried your hands in your face, "That means they all know…"

"Y/n, no offense…but 'dose guys don't have a brain to notice 'dat you were a girl. They would only believe you if you showed them you were. Guess I'm 'da only one who knows."

"How else could you tell I was a girl?" You were intrigued that Eugene knew. Half of the company men were so distracted that they most likely didn't bother about your appearance, except when Liebgott would make fun of you for being the smallest person in the company.

"Well... you're a kind person."

You removed your hands from your face, perplexed by his answer. He saw your confusion and proceeded to explain.

"You're one of the nicest and most empathetic people in the company. 'Dat's kinda how I figured. War is a brutal place. 'Da whole company is full of men who cheat, steal, and lie. But you y/n, ain't nothin like that. You're a good and strong person who cares 'bout other people. A gift from GodGod."

You smiled as your cheeks turned pink. Eugene's words were raw and the truth.

"But you know...it's over for me." You sighed as you began to walk past him, "I'm in the doghouse now."

Eugene grabbed your hand, causing you to stop. He looked at you with his big blue eyes. He didn't even need to speak words as his eyes burned into your soul. Eugene made your body weak as the tension left your body. He gave your hand a little squeeze.

"No, let me help you."

"With what?"

"Being a man," Eugene said, "I'll help you with whatever you need. Bandages, binders, products for y' know...you. If you wanna pass without worryin', then let me 'elp you. Please."

You liked the idea of it but yearned for why Eugene desperately wanted to help you. "Why do you wanna help a woman?"

"It ain't 'cause you're a woman; it's because you're a fighter. Two years of training, and you finally are a Paratrooper. I don't wanna let all your hard work go to waste," He replied, "Plus, I'd miss havin' you 'round."

You shook your head as you chuckled. Eugene was serious but lighthearted, in which he was only around you. The two of you were so vulnerable around each other, letting downsides you would never let the world see. He subtle smiled as you let go of his hand.

"Why'd you do it?"

The two of you walked in the dark forest, side by side. You began to talk about your long journey to where you stood. "My brother had Polio, and my dad was too old. I didn't wanna see them get hurt...so I took my brother's place."

"That's what angels do, y' know? That's very brave," Eugene complimented.

He kept referring to you as an angel, and you couldn't tell if it was subtle flirting or him just being nice to you. You bumped into his shoulder, smiling, "I don't consider it brave. I just wanted to make sure they were ok."

Eugene looked up at the sky and then at you. Looking at you made him feel at ease. He could stare at you for hours on end.

"You gotta promise me somethin' tho'."

Your full attention was on him, waiting to spill.

"Promise me you won't get hurt or do anythin' dumb. Stay by me when you can. I just... I don't know if I could handle you getting hurt," Eugene admitted as his voice croaked. You were the last person he wanted to lose. The one real person that he cared deeply about.

"I'll try, but please…" You squeezed the rim of his jacket, "Don't treat me any differently because I'm a woman. I'm a man to you, and nothing different. Can you promise me that, Gene?"

You stood there and held out your hand to shake on it. Eugene stopped walking and noticed. His mind was racing with thoughts. So many ideas were going through his head. It had already been a night full of surprises. But if you wished it, it was his command. Eugene's hand once again met with yours as you firmly shook hands. The two of you continued walking as Eugene looked down at you, not knowing what to say once again. But the two had created a language that you would only understand.

"Ok?" Eugene cooed in his thick drawl.

You looked at him and nodded with reassurance, "Ok."

"What's your real name, by the way? Not your brother's name, but your name."

"Y/n." You said. You hadn't said that in years.

"Y/n, y/n…" Eugene repeated your name under his breath. It was different, and he liked others. He knew it was his job not to grow close to you, but it was becoming harder now that you were a woman and his closest friend. But he snapped out of his worry and smiled down at you. "Nice to meet you, y/n."

"Nice to meet you as well, Gene."

Eugene and you walked back to camp. He had gotten you a fresh pair of clothes, and the two of you sat outside of the medical center, sharing a pack of cigarettes as you watched the sunrise into the Toccoa sky. You and Eugene agreed to make it seem like this was a normal situation, and nothing had changed. But now that Eugene knew about the real y/n, everything had changed.

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #band of brothers #carrie writes #eugene roe #band of brothers imagine

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faraway-wanderer · 4 years

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QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!

- The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized

- Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

- You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen

- Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

- Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

- I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.

- The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

- The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.

- The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city

- Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.

- Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find. Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is. Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.

- The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

- I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.

- Summer Bird Blue Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.

- Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.

- The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.

- By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.

- Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.

- Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.

- Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.

- The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.

- Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner Kinky-haired Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.

- Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’

- Queen of Coin and Whispers Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.

- Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.

- This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored

- Seven Tears at High Tide- C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.

- Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.

- The Last Beginning- Lauren James- (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.

#i think i did a good job at finding alot of diverse ones and with different sexualites etc represented #i haven't read all of these but i've read some!#queer ya masterlist #book blogging #pride reads #queer books #lgbtq boo #lgbtq reads #ya books

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jbbarnesnnoble · 3 years

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Snippets from WIPs

I figured since it’ll be a bit before I’m back to posting regularly, I’ll share some WIPs.

Feel free to ask questions about them! I can’t promise a timely response because I’m super busy at the moment but, I will answer them!

There’s about 15 different WIP snippets under the cut! They’re in no particular order.

Title: Once Upon a December

Pairing: SamNat/Reader

“No new updates, Agent Romanoff,” the AI responded. Natasha wondered if there was a hint of the same despondent feeling that had gripped the team in the AI’s voice.

“Baby, we talked about this,” Sam said as he took his mug from the counter. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

“Coping mechanisms. I know,” she responded, her tone clipped. She felt a pang of regret at the tone she used. It wasn’t his fault any more than it was hers. But they both felt guilt. Sam set his mug down, pulling her close. Steve and Bucky made themselves busy, setting the table for breakfast.

Title: champagne problems (Working Title)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

“I need to use the restroom,” you said, dashing from the banquet hall. You took a moment to compose yourself in the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. The dress that had once fit you perfectly now hung loose in some places. You looked exhausted. You were exhausted. Two days. You had two days left. You hadn’t told anyone. Not about the eviction. Not about the job offer. You were leaving and not looking back. The only people you wanted to tell, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

The door to the restroom opened and you looked up to see Natasha, worry etched onto her face as she took in your appearance.

“What’s going on?” she asked. You couldn’t keep it in. Not when she looked at you like that. She could read you like a book.

“I’m leaving. Two days,” you said.

“Leaving? What do you mean leaving? Is this about Rogers?” she asked.

“I got evicted, Nat,” you said softly.

“Then let us help you. You don’t have to be so stubborn all the time!” she argued.

“I found a new job,” you said.

“It’s...it’s not in New York, is it?” she asked. You shook your head. You leaned in, making sure your voice was low.

“Dublin. You can’t tell anyone. Please. Clean break. I’ll send you my address, but Nat. Please. I want a fresh start. This...this isn’t my life,” you said. Natasha paused for a moment.

“Are you happy with your choice?” she asked after a minute.

“As happy as I can be.”

Title: Untitled Wanda Fic (Requested)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Reader

You did your research in the quiet of night. You didn’t want to have to make that call. You had promised them you would call if things ever spiraled out of control, but you knew what making that call would mean. It would be the end of the line. You had tried everything you could think of before the day HYDRA took you. But you knew it was useless.

You had been training with the Avengers, usually Wanda. You refused to use your powers, which they respected at first. But you knew it frustrated some of the team. Your powers were strong. You knew they could be useful in the field, save lives instead of take them. But you were scared. Your powers came from the darkest part of you. She protected you back then, when she was created in the accident, as you called it. But she scared you. Terrified you. You saw no way of co-existing. She may have been you, but you were not her.

Title: Used to You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Reader

It had been six months. Six torturous months. You remembered the day Natasha returned from the mission. She was the only one to walk off the jet. She had brought Wanda home, refusing to leave her behind. Your scream would haunt Natasha for the rest of her days. She had seen plenty of hurt and grief in her time, but yours cut the deepest. It had taken both Steve and Bucky to keep you from lashing out in anger, in pain.

Title: Campfire Stories (Working Title)

Pairing: To Be Determined

“You don’t...you don’t forget the first time. The first time you lose someone and the slow realization that there was nothing you could have done to change the outcome. Not a single thing. That when you lost them, it was the culminating moment of thousands of choices made by different people, all leading to that precise moment in time,” you said.

“You really believe that?” Natasha asked.

“It’s what helps me sleep at night,” you replied. She let out a laugh. Sleep wasn’t for those like you. No, you hadn’t known what it was to dream in some time. You let the moment pass before speaking once more.

“I have no choice but to believe it, otherwise? Otherwise it feels like it’s all my fault and I’m not so sure I could bear to live with that. You know what happens when we go?” you asked. It was an uncomfortable question. There was no happily ever after for you. Not in this lifetime.

“The Void,” she said.

“We’re the Guardians, Romanoff. The Void is nothing. The Void is a collection of energy destined to return. We have no rest. Not like they do,” you replied.

“We’re meant to protect, aren’t we?” she asked.

“That’s the thing. No one knows. You’re here because you made a selfless choice. You remember who you were. But in time? You won’t remember. Your ghost found you in Vormir. There are so few of us. We named ourselves after that video game they like on earth these days. I used to play it myself,” you replied.

Title: I’m With You

Pairing:Bucky Barnes/Reader

He watched. Perhaps it was creepy, but he watched. He had a view of the park from his window. Day in and day out, she’d be there. It was routine. He liked routine. It gave him a sense of stability. 7:30 on the dot, each morning she’d be there. Weekends she’d be dressed more casually. She usually had a man with her, a boyfriend or a husband he supposed. He’d sit and people watch, never staring. He liked to know what was going on around him. The couple on the bench were part of that routine he’d found comfort in.

Mrs. O’Neil three apartments down would walk her dog at 7:15 each morning. The Cassidys were usually screaming at each other until late into the night, like clockwork, over unwashed dishes and clothes left laying on the floor. It hadn’t always been like that, he supposed. Not until recently. He saw the husband, Ryan, with some woman at a restaurant who was assuredly not his wife who was home with their newborn baby. There was a single father two doors down on the opposite side of the hall who worked overnights. He would hear the man tiredly escort his kids to the bus stop at 7 sharp each morning. His eldest would insist he didn’t have to. He still did. Some days it was the only chance the father had to see his kids.

Routine and knowing his surroundings was important to him. Which was why when the woman in the park didn’t show up three days in a row, he was concerned. Maybe she was sick, he reasoned. Or she moved. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help the worry. He didn’t know her name, just a face. Another face among the millions in the city. Three days turned into a week without seeing her. A week turned into two and slowly, thoughts of the woman from the park drifted away like the clouds above. Until they were brought back to the forefront of his mind full force.

Title:Wish You’d Miss Me

Pairing:SamWanda/Reader

Wanda felt the pain in your thoughts. The years of wounds left festering instead of healing, ripped open once more with a simple text from your mother. The photo was at the forefront of your mind. Wanda hadn’t noticed when Sam entered the room and sat beside her, looking over at you. Wanda had tears in her eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” Sam asked her, pulling her closer. Wanda nodded her head in your direction. You were so lost in your own head, headphones in, that you still hadn’t noticed either of them in the room.

“Her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming. I don’t know how to help her, Sam. I don’t know how to make her understand that she’s not alone, that she doesn’t have to shoulder all this on her own,” Wanda said quietly. Sam glanced over at you once more, taking in your body language. You were tense. He could see the subtle shake of your shoulders as tears fell. He made a decision in that moment, taking Wanda’s hand in his as he pulled her toward you.

Title: One Ring Hang Ups

Pairing: SamNat/Reader

You fell into a routine at the compound. There were still days where you’d dial your dad’s number, knowing no one would pick up and it would say the number was no longer in service. It was Tony who had caught you doing it, six months into you working for the team.

“I’ve noticed you call that number once a week. FRIDAY picked up on it,” Tony said, leaning against the door frame of your office.You froze. You weren’t sure what to say. You took in his body language. He didn’t seem upset. He looked curious, if not a little concerned and sympathetic. You had a feeling he knew.

“It...it was my dad’s,” you said. He nodded.

“She told me that too. How long’s it been?” he asked.

“A year and a half. It was unexpected. It’s been...hard. I keep thinking of the little moments he’s missing. My sibling just had their first child, the first grandbaby for my parents. And I keep thinking about how dad should be here,” you said.

“Those moments don’t stop. Time marches forward whether we want it to or not,” he said. You were aware of what happened with his parents. That it had taken him sometime to reconcile with Sergeant Barnes. Time and counseling, was what Tony told you.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” you asked him. He was sitting now, with his feet propped up on your desk.

“There are days where it hits you. Days where you feel like you’re back at square one. But eventually you realize they wouldn’t want you to be miserable forever,” he said.

“He’s why I have a Red Sox hat on my shelf in here,” you said. You weren’t sure why you shared that tidbit. Maybe it was the season getting ready to start. Maybe it was just the feeling of vulnerability in that moment. Tony gave you a sad smile.

“Strange choice for someone who lives in New York,” Tony joked. You laughed a little.

“Yeah...yeah he never did care what others thought,” you said. Tony stood up and stretched.

“Listen, take the rest of the day off. Cap can pick up the slack on this one. Anyone comes looking for you, FRIDAY will tell them I gave you the day off,” he said. You just nodded. You packed your bag up and headed to your room.

Title: Would Anyone See Me

Pairing: Polyamorous Avengers/Reader

The wind whipped around you, stinging your cheeks that were numb from the cold and wet with tears. You sat on the ledge of the bridge, tears falling like a steady rain. You worked and lived at the Avengers compound, part of the team, but a year in and you still felt like an outsider. You still felt lonely in a room full of people.

Your last mission had been a solo mission, which went off without a hitch, minus you getting injured, but you had completed the mission. In your mind, that was the only thing that had mattered. The team saw it differently. Steve had tore into you. Natasha gave you a look of disappointment. Bucky had stood silently, almost daring you to argue back. You always did. But this time, your shoulders had sagged and you had left without a word. It was something that was so unlike you.

You had trouble sleeping and found yourself at the bridge. The bridge was on the grounds, a river rushing below with jagged rocks and debris. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about it. Your thighs were riddled with fresh marks of your own making, your mind flooded with the toxic thoughts in overdrive. Useless, worthless, can’t do anything right. Better off without you. Everyone hates you. No one cares. The noise was all so loud, all so consuming.

You saw how the team was with one another, the ease with which they fit together like a perfect puzzle. And then there was you, the jagged, crooked piece that didn’t fit. They kept things out of the view of common areas, for the most part. You remembered the first movie night after you moved in.

Title: Finding Peace (SPN Crossover)

Pairing:Stucky/Reader

“Can I hitch a ride to the bunker? Easiest way to be undetected,” you explained. You had parked your car in a lot that you knew had no cameras. Any cameras that had been in the area would have seen you arrive but never leave.

You almost stumbled when you and Castiel arrived in the bunker, startling Sam and Dean.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in New York?” Dean asked as he pulled you into a hug. You let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, about that. I got suspended,” you said.

“You?” Sam asked.

“I almost got killed. I run solo, you know how it is. I can’t call in other hunters because the team will get suspicious. I got the job done. Fury disagreed with that call and agreed with the Star Spangled Jackass in suspending me,” you grumbled.

“We’re not going to gloss over the almost got killed part, kid,” Dean said.

“Some asshat was selling some cursed objects. I handled it. Destroyed the objects, secured the others, which I brought with me because fuck leaving them with the Avengers,” you said, setting one of the bags on the table.

Dean walked to the kitchen, grabbing four beers out of the refrigerator. He saw the slight slump in your shoulders. There was more to your sudden appearance than being suspended, and he was going to find out what it was.

Title: You Broke Me First (Sequel)

Pairing: Past Natasha Romanoff/Reader

You were leaning against your car on the tarmac at the Austin airport, waiting for the quinjet you knew was taxiing in a private hanger owned by Tony. You smiled when you saw the trio. They were on a ‘mission’ in the area. The mission being visiting you. Wanda, Bucky, and Steve all smiled as they took you in.

“Texas suits you,” Wanda said as she pulled you into a hug.

“Once upon a time I said I’d never come back,” you replied.

“You’ve come far since then,” Steve said as he pulled you in for a hug of his own. You parted and headed right for Bucky, giving him the tightest hug of all, earning a chuckle from Steve. They piled into your car and you headed off, first to grab some lunch. You pulled into the Rudy’s closest to the airport. You knew the two supersoldiers would put away a lot of food and you had called ahead. You knew the staff there well enough. You still made them go through the Rudy’s tradition for a first time customer. Steve’s cheeks had a slight pink tinge and Bucky wore a smile you rarely got to see, even when you lived at the compound.

“You called ahead, didn’t you?” Wanda asked as the two of you watched. You nodded.

“Yeah, I come here for lunch a few times a month. Don’t want to destroy the goodwill I have with the staff,” you said, half joking.

The four of you found a spot to sit. The restaurant was quiet given the time of day. You were happy to avoid a crowd. Sitting there, with you friends, gave you a sense of normal you hadn’t had since you left. Leaving Natasha meant leaving them behind, and that was hard. Phone calls and video chats could never replace being with them, hanging out and forgetting about the world for a bit.

Title: Untitled Natasha Request

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Your fist connected with the bag in front of you. It felt good to release the tension that had been building from everything. Fury was on your ass lately about your mission reports. Steve was on your ass about slacking in your training. And you had been stressed by Natasha’s lack of communication.

You and Natasha had been together for several years, since you’d joined the Avengers, just before the fall of SHIELD. You knew what you wanted, and it was forever with her. The topic of marriage was one the both of you danced around. Last time you had brought it up, she brushed it off.

“What’d that bag ever do to you Rose?” Sam asked. You jumped a little before looking over to where he was leaning against the wall. You hadn’t seen him come in.

“Everything, Jack,” you joked. It had been a running joke between you and Sam since a mission gone wrong on the water that evoked the infamous scene from Titanic. You both fit on the door.

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You sighed. Sam could read you better than anyone, barring Natasha. It was why you two were frequently partners on mission. You worked well together seamlessly.

Title: Forgiven My Mistakes

Pairing: SamNat/Reader

No. Home wasn’t a place for you. Home was wrapped up in two people. Two people you had hurt when you walked out the door. You had promised them you wouldn’t seek revenge. You wouldn’t go after him on your own. But you couldn’t keep that promise. Not when you had gotten a lead that was too good to pass up.

You weren’t stupid. You knew they would’ve tracked you down and dragged you home if you had brought any tech with you. You had been smart about things. To your knowledge, FRIDAY had never picked up on your movements. You were like a ghost. Until now. You wanted...you needed them to know you were coming home, if they would have you. You refused to hold it against them if they didn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into JFK. The current weather is cloudy, with highs in the mid twenties. Snow showers are expected throughout the day. On behalf of our airline, welcome to New York and the United States,” the captain said. Ten minutes later, you were waiting for your baggage, not that you had much. You had one small suitcase, acquired somewhere in Switzerland, and your backpack. You rented a car, the first ping on any of your accounts since you left. You knew they likely had alerts on all of your accounts. It’s what you would’ve done. You wanted them to know you were coming home.

Miles away, FRIDAY broke the silence in the common room. Everyone was in varied states of awakeness, with the time being just past seven in the morning.

“Are you sure FRIDAY?” Sam asked, not wanting to get his hopes up.

Title: September

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

*Note: This snippet is a flashback to age seven

Natasha pushed you forward and you stumbled toward the boy, casting as mean a glare as you could muster at the tender age of seven back at her. She knew you wouldn’t talk to him otherwise. Even at such a young age, Natasha knew how to read a situation, how to read people. You mumbled your name, not caring if he heard you or not.

“I’m James,” the boy said, introducing himself, before introducing his younger sister, who appeared to be around Peter’s age. She was hiding behind him, looking at the group with wide eyes.

“We already have a James in the group,” you said, your arms crossed. You saw Tony sigh dramatically.

“We call him Rhodey,” Tony offered up. You turned your glare to him. James had a small smile on his face.

“Stevie calls me Bucky. He said you guys were cool,” he replied. Your head snapped toward him. You were the only one allowed to call Steve, Stevie. There was only one Steve you knew who knew all of you.

“Steve Rogers?” you asked, your voice going up a little. His eyes lit up.

“Yeah! He’s my best friend! His grandparents live next to our old place in Brooklyn!” he exclaimed.

“I think I hear my dad calling,” Natasha said. Clint looked at her in confusion. They had both been adopted by Phil Coulson when they were in pre-school.

“Dad’s not,” Clint started to say before Nat kicked him and dragged you along.

“She’s staying over tonight so he’s calling for her too! It was nice meeting you James!” Natasha said before she pulled you down several houses to her house, with Clint trailing behind her. You didn’t miss the look of confusion on the new boy’s face.

Title:Underneath the Willow Tree

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Plus Size!Original Female Character

Steve looked up when he heard footsteps. The usual crowd were rarely early. He looked over the newest arrival, a brunette with subtle waves in her hair and a smattering of freckles across her pale skin. Hazel eyes and a thicker build. She was far from being waft like. He catalogued her features, a force of habit in appraising a threat. As if there had been many of those in the four years since Thanos.

“Are you looking for something?” he asked. The woman jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

“I was told a support group meets here...for survivors? A friend of mine recommended it. Uhm, Natasha?” the woman asked, her accent subtle but there. Irish. Steve wondered how long she had been in the US, if it had been before or after the Snap.

“Romanoff?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes,” she replied.

“How did you two meet?” he asked, curious. As far as he knew, Nat rarely left the compound these days.

“Work,” the woman said. Steve’s curiosity was further piqued.

“Work?” he questioned. She nodded.

“She comes into the shop I work at on weekends. Coffee and whatever new treat Róisín’s made,” the woman said.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked. She laughed a little.

“That obvious?” She joked.

“Ireland, right?” he asked. She nodded.

“From Mayo, originally. Moved to Dublin when I was twelve, the States when I was twenty. Moved out of the city just after the Snap. It was too quiet. Nat’s been telling me I need to stop bottling things up, so, here I am,” she said.

“Nat’s good at getting people to do what she wants,” Steve replied.

“I’m Máiréad. You can call me Maggie,” the woman said. Steve’s brow furrowed at that.

“Maggie...I’m Steve,” he said, extending his hand. Maggie grasped it in hers, before moving toward the chairs after releasing it.

#marvel fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #Bucky Barnes #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #avengers fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #sam wilson fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic

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echodrops · 4 years

Note

Hshshsnansna seeing that ask got me in a HUGE HaaH mood. Like, I went through and read a bunch of asks, and I'd probably go reread the fic itself if I had time. So!! Is there anything about HaaH you've always wanted to share but never had the chance to? Headcanons, worldbuilding, backstory, hidden details- anything at all??

Oh friend… There is so much. I have a Word document that’s like 17k of JUST headcanons and world-building for this fic kghsdkjhdkfg I’m not crazy, I swear.

It took me a while to respond because I had to comb through and find stuff that wasn’t spoilery, but tada, have some Home and a Half Hunk and Shiro (and Matt) headcanons and backstory under the cut!

Also, as for hidden details… Same as the Garrison professors in the show were named for staff members, Neuhahn and Ania are named after IRL contributors to the Voltron animated series–Chris Neuhahn was a producer and Ania O’Hare was the casting director.

And here are some Hunk, Shiro, and sorta Matt headcanons/backstory that shapes their characters in HaaH. (Please note, these headcanons ignore absolutely everything from about season 6 of the actual show and on. I stopped watching Voltron after Season 6 because I just couldn’t handle the writing anymore. T_T)

Hunk:- He’s mixed ethnically, and although his parents are from Samoa, his family tree actually spans many different countries, mostly in Polynesia, including Tonga, but even places as far away as Malaysia.- His parents were converted to the LDS church by Mormon missionaries in Samoa. A few years before Hunk was born, his parents moved to Utah to be closer to the church, so Hunk has only ever been to Samoa once, on a vacation to visit family.- His first name is actually “Hyrum,” and until he met Lance at a Garrison-sponsored summer astro-camp when they were nine, everyone just called him by his real name.- Lance actually meant to call him “Incredible Hulk” at camp, butttt to nine-year-old Lance’s utter mortification, it came out “Incredible Hunk” instead. “Hunk” stuck.- He has a little sister who is even more sensitive than he is.

- Although Hunk’s parents originally agreed on the plan to move to America, after the family arrived, they experienced difficulty fitting in with the very selective Utah culture, and Hunk’s mother grew disenchanted with the church. Employment was difficult to find in their small, rural town, and Hunk’s parents both struggled with being isolated from their extended families. Tensions over whether or not to remain in America, as well as over money, led to some miserable fights that contributed to Hunk’s aversion to conflict when he was younger.

- Hunk sometimes had to play the role of family peacekeeper, working hard to make sure that his youngest sister wouldn’t notice the strain.

- Nevertheless, despite their share of troubles, the family is extremely close-knit. Hunk values his family and their opinions more than anything in any world.

- Which is how he ended up agreeing to go to Garrison, even when he really just wanted to help his parents kickstart the restaurant they were planning to open. His mother felt that working in a family restaurant, even if Hunk is a great cook, would squander his incredible academic and engineering talent (which Hunk thought of as just a hobby), so she begged him to go and continue his schooling instead. Hunk couldn’t say no to his mother, even if the thought of being shipped off into space terrified the living daylights out of him.

- Hunk doesn’t curse and is somewhat uncomfortable with people cursing, at least in front of him. Although Lance used to have a pretty colorful repertoire, when he learned that cursing made Hunk uncomfortable, he immediately adopted all of Hunk’s weird Utah replacements instead. “Holy crow” and “let’s kick some trash” are things they actually say seriously.

- Hunk is always down to cuddle and is never embarrassed by asking for or giving cuddles to anyone. He would 200% cuddle Shiro if he thought Shiro would let him. (Shiro would, in fact, let him.) Hunk’s favorite person on the team to cuddle is actually Keith, because Keith (who was taught to comply by Garrison scientists with all unexpected/unsolicited touch) will just sit obediently for hours letting Hunk hug out all his stress. Hunk knows that something is off about Keith’s behavior, but his leading theory—that Keith allows the hugs because he’s touch-starved—is unfortunately false.

- Hunk knows the lyrics to every Disney song EVER.

- And he’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to secrets. Once he discovers that someone’s keeping something under wraps, he goes a bit crazy with curiosity and cannot stop thinking about what they might be hiding. The rules of privacy go totally out the window when he gets like this, but time and again, Hunk’s adage that it’s always better to tell the truth bears itself out.

Shiro (and Matt?):

- Shiro is the only member of his immediate family whose first language was not Japanese. His grandparents on both sides immigrated to the US from Japan due to work transfers relatively late in life, when their own children, Shiro’s parents, were already young adults. As the first family child to be born in America, Shiro’s parents strongly emphasized the need to learn English well, which unfortunately resulted in Shiro being pushed away from learning Japanese when he was young. Even though he’s a capable conversationalist now, he’s struggled his whole life with regret over not learning the language when he was young and could have picked it up easier.

- There’s a running joke in his family that he’s actually an ogre in disguise, given that he is much taller than many of his other family members. Tradition demands that the first photo of every holiday gathering is a joke group shot in which Shiro’s posed so his entire head is outside the top frame of the picture.

- Shiro was mercilessly bullied as a child because of his height. The other children frequently suggested that he didn’t belong in their grade because he was too big and that the school must held him back multiple times for being dumb. (Shiro was never held back. In fact, he had excellent grades from kindergarten to the day he graduated from Garrison—and no, not because his parents forced him to study; in fact, throughout his schooling, they often ended up having to force Shiro to go to bed already instead.)

- On top of being teased for his looks, Shiro was naturally shy. He barely spoke, even to his teachers, and would stumble miserably if he was put on the spot in class, contributing further to the rumor that he was stupid.

- Shiro loved learning, but he hated everything that happened in school and didn’t have a single real friend outside of his cousins until he went off to middle school and met Matt Holt in sixth grade.

- Barely two weeks into their first middle school year, and it was already obvious that Matt was the school’s biggest nerd; he’d been bumped up two grades because of his obvious genius and was the textbook definition of an alien conspiracy theorist (It’s not a conspiracy if they’re REAL, guys!) But the strange thing was that no one bullied Matt—he was just so quick on the sarcastic (and biochemical) comebacks that teasing him wasn’t even worth it. Instead, the school’s resident assholes took it out on targets a little less likely to corrode their homework with miniature magnesium bombs—read as, they picked on polite, well-meaning Takashi Shirogane instead.

- Out of pity more than anything else, Matt finally stood up for Shiro one day and ran off the assholes. (It was not, as Mrs. Shirogane insists, with a home-made taser. It was not.) After something like that, well… You sort of feel obligated to befriend a guy, don’tcha?

- Becoming friends with Matt Holt transformed Shiro’s life. Even if Shiro wouldn’t originally speak up for himself, he was ferociously proud and supportive of his first real friend, and learning to be bold for Matt taught Shiro the value and meaning of standing up for not only others, but also himself. Being friends with someone as off-the-cuff and tricky as Matt helped Shiro grow more spontaneous, less self-conscious, and ultimately much more confident—even if, to this day, most of that confidence is still focused on helping others, rather than on being self-assured.

- It was Shiro admiration for Matt’s father, Sam Holt, that led Shiro to take his childhood obsession with military history a step further by actually joining the military. Shiro and Matt enrolled in Garrison together, although Matt was part of the research rather than the combat division.

- Matt was the one who convinced Shiro to get his hair styled in an undercut. It was originally just a dare, but Shiro ended up loving it afterward. The “Undercut Incident,” as it has come to be known in the Shirogane family, was the official straw that broke the camel’s back and resulted in Mrs. Shirogane declaring Matt Holt a “bad influence,” the only impact of which was that Matt had to sneak in through Shiro’s bedroom window instead of coming to the front door when he wanted to hang out.

- Shiro has received two separate Medals of Honor for making dangerous supply deliveries to war-torn countries across the globe, delivering the vital food and medicine that helped save hundreds of lives. He has also been part of several missions to save stranded astronauts from failing international space stations.

- Shiro is actually a giant memelord, but his crushing sense of responsibility keeps him from indulging in quality shitposting in front of anyone he actually knows. He had a ridiculously active secret Vine account before leaving on the Kerberos mission. His snaps are legendary. Deep down, Shiro dreads the inevitable day someone connects him with his cringey social media accounts.

- Literally the worst at adulting. His mom still filled out his tax forms for him and booked his dentist appointments. He has no idea what the hell he’s doing leading Team Voltron when he can’t even remember which of his clothes are machine-washable and which aren’t.

- When they were in their third year at Garrison, Matt conned Shiro into volunteering as a camp counselor for Garrison’s summer astrocamp program, even though Shiro had minimal understanding of how to take care of children and mostly just BS’d his way through, hoping that none of his campers had anything close to a serious issue.

- He won “best camp counselor” the very first year he volunteered. Mostly because Lance cheated and voted for him 23 times, but still.

#Home and a Half #HaaHVLD #voltron headcanons #Hunk headcanons #Shiro headcanons #Matt headcanons #I guess lol #matt holt #hunk voltron #takashi shirogane #Voltron

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Astrophile [Pt.3]

Chapter: Supernova

Summary: Bucky goes on a date.

Warnings: Fluffy fluff. Nat being the best.

A/N: This chapter would not have happened without my beta @lokissoul That’s not a joke. She’s a saint for putting up with my crap. Please don’t hate me, okay? This was important to understanding where Bucky is at in his life.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Orion takes off towards the swing set curls bouncing in the breeze as she runs through the open grassy field. She dodges other kids, toys and a few dogs on leashes, but it’s a path she’s perfected. She knows every rock and bump and hole that tries to keep her from getting to the playset.

“Stay where I can see you and if anyone tries talking to you what do you do?” Nat shouts after her. Orion turns back to her aunt and holds up both fists, grinning. Nat laughs and waves her permission allowing the little girl to get back to top speed.

“Her daddy know you taught her to punch strangers?” Y/n asks, grinning.

“No,” Natasha admits as she leans back on the blanket they brought for their girls’ picnic, eyes glued on Orion as she started to swing herself back and forth on the lower set of monkey bars.

“And I’m trusting you to keep it that way.”

Y/n laughs and props herself back against the tree behind them setting down her near-empty basket of fries. “Is Bucky working again tonight?”

“No, he’s got a date. It’s some girl he met through Sam. They go to the same gym or something? Sam is Steve’s husband by the way.” Nat shakes her head and sighs, “They are not going to make it.”

“Steve and Sam?” Y/n asks, sounding surprised even to her own ears. “You always talk about how gross it is that Steve loves his husband so much. Why do you say that?”

She laughs and looks over at Y/n. “Buck and the girl he’s taking out tonight, Zoe I think? Steve was born to follow Sam around like a puppy. Trust me on that.”

Ori yells for Y/n to look at her as she jumps off the swing. Y/n sits up right away and beams as brightly as she can for the little girl, shouting about how amazing her jump was. As if a little kid jumping off a swing was the most exciting thing Y/n has ever seen in her life.

“So,” Y/n begins to prod as Orion goes back to playing. “Why are Bucky and Zoe not going to make it?”

Nat sighs heavily. She was getting nowhere with these two. Y/n wasn’t even jealous that tall, dark and adorable was going on a date. Neither one seemed interested in the other. Nat was starting to think she was wasting her time. “Well for starters I don’t think Bucky will let himself fall for her and he didn’t seem overly excited about the date when I picked up Ori. He’s not going to let it go beyond tonight. Mark my words. It’s like he won’t let himself be happy.”

“I doubt he needs to find someone to be happy,” Y/n argues. “They seem to be doing just fine on their own. Ori is happy and healthy, and from what I saw he seemed happy, clearly healthy from the size of those biceps. They are their own cute little family. I think it’s nice. They just need each other to be happy, and that’s sweet.”

Natasha tosses her fry at her friend pelting her on the forehead, making Y/n winces. She rubs the spot on her forehead making Natasha roll her eyes at the gesture.

“I’m not saying he has to be with someone to be happy. I’m saying, I’m starting to worry he’s not even open to giving love a chance. For example, he met this woman a week or so ago and I know they are perfect for each other. Same interests. She loves Ori. When I asked what he thought about her, he acted as if I asked him what he thought about dating Steve.”

Y/n snorts but shakes her head. Why was it so hard to believe that not everyone wanted to force love? Sometimes it simply needed to happen naturally.

“Just because he didn’t fall in love at first sight doesn’t mean he’s closed off to love.”

Y/n tosses the fry she was smacked in the face with back into the basket in front of her and sighs, “Not every love story starts with some dramatic moment where they fall for one another. Falling in love can be simple and still be beautiful. In fact, some of the best love stories are full of hundreds of small sweet moments that lead to love. Those are real. Not some big grand meeting full of sparks that probably won’t exist beyond the first night.”

Nat sits up on the blanket and crosses her arms over her chest smirking at Y/n. The twinkle in her eye made Y/n’s stomach churn from her nerves.

“What?” She asks, slightly embarrassed by her rambling. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing really. Just how perfect that woman is for him and how utterly stupid they both are.”

-------

Bucky had been nervous the entire night for a reason he couldn’t place. He’s been dating regularly since Orion was born. It’s not as if he stopped liking women the moment he became a dad. Most of the dates Bucky went on Steve called them hookups, not dates. He’s probably right, but Bucky doesn’t like to tell him that. It goes right to his head and then they all have to listen to him going on and on for weeks. It’s just not worth it most days.

This was what Steve called a ‘real grown-up date with potential.’ Bucky doesn’t know how Sam deals with him most days. He had met Zoe a few days before when he went to the gym with Sam. She was beautiful, big brown eyes and dark brown hair she had in braided pigtails for her class. He was going to have to ask her how to do that for Ori if their date went well. She even laughed at his dumb joke about how slow Sam was on the treadmill. Then for some reason unknown to him, it just spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it:

I’m off this Wednesday. You wanna grab dinner?

Much to his surprise, she agreed. They didn’t get a chance to talk much so she didn’t know anything about Orion. That was pretty typical for him though. He didn’t usually bring Orion up unless he felt like it was going to go beyond a first date and it was too early on to tell if they would. He’s learned to just live in the moment and not put too much pressure on one moment or one person. The little girl snuggled up with her aunt is the only thing he needs to be whole.

Anyone else added to their duo would just be a cherry on top.

Bucky rests his hand on her lower back as he guides her out of the restaurant and holds the door open for her on the way out. Zoe leans into his side unexpectedly, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders as they stroll towards his car. He dips his head down by her ear and whispers, “I know I said it already but you look beautiful.”

Zoe tries and fails miserably to hide her smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Much better than the ballcap and sweaty gym shorts.”

Bucky chuckles and nods in agreement. He wasn’t looking his best when he asked her out, that was for sure. “I’m not sure why you said yes when I looked like that. You do know you are wildly out of my league right?”

“Oh, I know,” She teases.

“I just had a good feeling about you I guess,” She murmurs as they reach his car and presses herself against his chest. Bucky’s hands fall to her hips as she leans up on her tiptoes pressing her lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that left him seeing stars or took his breath away, but it was enough to leave him wanting more the second her lips left his.

“I wouldn’t mind… going back to your place.” She says, smiling up at him. “I don’t really want the night to end just yet.”

Bucky grins and presses a chaste kiss to her lips as he pulls the passenger door open. “You read my mind darlin’.”

--------

It was a little past eight, and the smell of coffee was filling the kitchen. Undoubtedly it had reached his bedroom waking the beautiful woman who was sound asleep when he had crept downstairs to start their breakfast. All in all the night had gone better than Bucky had thought it was going to go, but he was still on the fence if this was going to go past today.

Yeah, he had fun but nights like last night are few and far between for him.

His life was a lot for anyone to take on and he doesn’t just mean the fact that dating him means you are dating more than just him, his job is too much for most. Most people can’t handle spending every day wondering if their spouse will make it back home to them and that’s okay. He knows he’s a lot to take on and it’s one of the reasons he hasn’t been in a real relationship in nearly a decade.

The soft sound of small feet padding along the hardwood floor behind him made him smile. It was nice to wake up next to her though. He slowly turns around and smiles the second he lays eyes on her coming down the backstairs.

“I see you found the kitchen.”

She laughs and walks over to where he’s leaning against the counter. “Yes, helps that the stairs lead directly into the kitchen.” Bucky grins and rests his elbows on the countertop pushing a cup of coffee towards Zoe.

“Thank you,” She chirps, she was a little too happy after a night of drinking if you ask Bucky, but he was going to keep that to himself.

Zoe glances around his house, and her heart sinks as she begins to take in everything that was around her. How did she not notice all this last night? Tequila and a gorgeous half-naked man can blur your vision, and there was a lot of both last night. Everywhere she looked there were stuffed animals and toys. They were all over the couch and in a big box in front of the seat in the bay window, a mini easel that held several colorful paintings was in the corner by the long wall bookshelves that held more than just books and a bright teal and pink raincoat was hanging on the hook by the front door. Her eyes fell on the fridge where photos of Bucky and a little girl were displayed proudly. She was so wrapped up in everything around them; she didn’t even realize he had been talking the entire time.

“–I can whip up pancakes if you want, but I don’t have eggs. I was told eggs for breakfast make for an awful day, so I haven’t been buying them as often.”

“Um,” She forces a smile and nods towards the photos on the fridge. “You have a daughter?”

He looks at the pictures and finger paintings on the fridge. There’s one that was full of stars and planets and comets, she made that with Y/n and it’s probably his favorite. He takes in his fridge and a deep breath before looking back at Zoe. Here goes nothing.

“Yeah, I have a little girl. She’s almost five. Her name is Orion.” He watches as she sets the mug down on the counter and the relaxed atmosphere quickly changes to something much harsher. It’s suddenly cold despite the furnace working over time and while it’s been warmer this winter, you wouldn’t know it from frost forming inside.

“So you get her every other weekend or something?”

“No,” Bucky huffs out a sarcastic laugh. Why does everyone assume he isn’t a full time parent? As if he couldn't handle taking care of her full-time because he’s the dad and therefore not as fit to be a single parent?

“She’s at her aunt’s for the night. I have full custody.”

She nods her head and starts to nervously chew her bottom lip. It didn’t take much to weed out the ones that weren’t going to work that was for sure. She pats the counter and looks at the clock over the stove, “Listen, I should go. I have a class in a few hours, and I need to get a shower and grab clean clothes…”

This isn’t the first time it has happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Bucky catches her hand as she tries to slip past him and places a light kiss to her cheek. Just because she didn’t want to be involved in his life more than she already was, didn’t mean he had to hate her or push her out the door.

“I meant what I said last night. I had a good time. It doesn’t have to mean more than what it was. Let me call you an Uber. I don’t want you trying to hitch a ride or paying for one yourself.”

He had his phone out, and the app open before she could argue. He wasn’t going to let her figure out her own way home when he was the one that picked her up. If he thought she wouldn’t be completely uncomfortable, he would have offered to drive her home, but by the awkward smile she’s giving him he doubts she would want that.

Zoe returns the kiss to his cheek and whispers a quick thank you before disappearing upstairs to gather her things.

A text message pops up right as he finishes calling for a car and he grins at the sight. His baby girl was begging to come home (with help typing from Aunt Nattie he was sure), and that could not come at a better time.

[N]: Can I come home daddy? I missed you!

[B]: You’ve got no idea how much I missed you, comet. Aunt Nattie I am at home and waiting on you two.

Zoe’s car left a few hours before Natasha had pulled up with Orion, so it gave Bucky enough time to hop in the shower and clean up from the night before. Turns out he reverts back to his college days when he has too much tequila and orders a pizza in the middle of the night. He does not remember that happening but judging by the half-eaten box on the floor of his bedroom he was the only one that partook in that late night snack.

“Daddy!” Orion squeals as she runs into the house and slams into his legs making him stumble back a few steps. An overly excited four-year-old and a hangover do not mix well.

“I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

He grins and bends down to place a kiss on the top of her head.“I missed you, comet. Why don’t you go get your things unpacked and make sure everything is ready for class tomorrow.”

Class. Not Pre-K. He’s learned the hard way. She’s a big girl and Pre-K doesn’t sound grown-up enough. Orion tightens her arms around his neck and juts her bottom lip out as far as it will go, looking up at him through her lashes. Bucky shakes his head and kisses her nose.

“Oh, I don’t think so. No pouting. Get moving. I’m gonna talk to Aunt Nattie for a second and then we can go get lunch?”

“Tacos?” She asks, practically bouncing from excitement.

“Whatever you want baby doll.”

Orion let go of his legs and was scrambling up the stairs without another word leaving Bucky chuckling. He leans back against the counter avoiding the glare he was getting from Natasha. For whatever reason, he felt like she was disappointed in him and no one wants to see a disappointed Natasha glaring at them.

“So,” Natasha prods. “How did last night go with what’s her name?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “You know her name, and it went fine. She booked it this morning when she realized I’m a full-time dad though. Can’t really blame her. I probably would have done the same before Ori was born.”

“Shame that didn’t work,” Natasha deadpans. “Why don’t you try online dating?”

He winces and shakes his head, “Not interested in doing that whole scene.”

Natasha sighs and peeks up the stairs for any sign of Orion before asking the question that’s been weighing on her mind, “Are you ever going to let someone in those high walls?”

“Tasha–”

“No, I’m serious James. You’ve been alone since Ori was born. Just one night stand after one night stand. Are you going to ever open yourself up and let someone else in your heart besides Orion?”

Bucky knows Natasha means well. He really does, but her worries are not built on anything substantial. He’s not closed off to love or women. In fact, he’s had more dates than he can count over the last five years, but none led to more than one night. Not one of those women were the one, and he’s not going to waste his time on someone who isn’t right for him and isn’t right for Ori.

When she finds him, he will be more than ready to let her in, but he won’t settle just to keep everyone around him from worrying.

“Look, if the right woman comes along, we will be here waiting. I’m not gonna force something because everyone thinks we are missing somethin’ that we aren’t. It has to be the right woman at the right time.”

Bucky leans over and kisses her cheek and whispers with a cheeky grin, “Besides the only women, I need in my life are you and Ori.”

Nat rolls her eyes and pushes him away from her.

“I’m married, Barnes. You should have made your move years ago. Don’t forget family dinner is on you this week and no pizza or anything else that comes out of a takeout container. You know the rules. Homecooked meals only.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Make that chicken pasta thing you do that’s really good. It always impresses everyone that you can make something that doesn’t taste awful.”

“Fine. Fine. Don’t you got a husband to take care of? I’m tryin’ to spend time with my best girl, and you’re yelling at me.”

“Zip it. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready,” She tells him with a grin. “Oh, and don’t forget. Y/n is coming to dinner. That’s not a problem is it?”

Bucky clears his throat and tries his best to look as casual as he can when he shrugs his shoulders. He looks around the house at the stuffed animal and toy tornado that destroyed his living room. “I should probably get all this cleaned up before she shows up is what you’re saying?”

Nat smiles and shakes her head, assuring him with complete confidence, “No. She won’t mind the mess. She likes Orion more than she likes you. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to go say goodbye to my niece.”

Bucky watches as Natasha walks up the stairs graceful as always, his eyes land on the stack of books on the table that sits on the wall behind the couch. Nat wasn’t wrong. Y/n loved Orion enough to send him home with his own stack of books just to ensure they were both happy. If Natasha liked Y/n, she couldn’t be too bad, and they hadn’t added an outsider to the group since before Orion was born. One more friend wouldn’t hurt, would it?

They were all due for a little change, and Y/n could be just what they all needed.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #fireman!bucky #daddy!bucky #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #single dad bucky #alternate universe #firefighter au

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buckys-little-hoe · 4 years

Text

Drunk and homeless | Platonic!Sam Wilson x Reader

Pairing: (Platonic) Sam x Reader

Summary: The Wilsons and you get drunk, so you decide to save the day.

Warnings: It’s mostly humor. Cursing, mentions of suicide, human trafficking, prostitution and mafia.

A/N: Hello! I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You grumble in the kitchen while everyone else is already sitting at the table waiting. You carefully put the meat in the hot pan and the oil splashes towards you. Cursing, you take a step back. Not your beautiful face!

"Will you be finished any time soon?" Clint asks sarcastically and you show him your favorite finger.

You’re cooking an old family recipe for your teammates. A few days ago you discovered it in a box with a lot of other stuff. Since you are really miserable in cooking, you never really wanted to cook again, but not much can go wrong with this recipe. After a few hours, you persuaded your friends to give it a try.

"I'll be done in a few minutes," you reply annoyed and get a board from the closet. Slowly you start chopping the vegetables. This guy pretty much gets on your balls.

"Hey, be patient. Y/N tries to give us something good. ", Steve defends you and you nod with an eyebrow raised. Captain America is always right.

"Exactly." Sam agrees and you clap your hands once. The king himself has spoken!

Then you turn back to the vegetables. Your guests start a conversation that you are not interested in. During the cutting you look at your little chaotic family. Even Peter came today because today is an important event for you. They don't know, but today is actually your birthday. You don't like celebrating, which is why you almost never mention it. It’s just important to you to spend this day with your favorite people

"Shit," you murmur when you notice a burning pain on your finger. "I think I’ll just kill myself," you say a little louder now and hold your finger under water.

"There is bleach under the sink," Steve says, stretching. Of course, he knows you are not serious.

"There's a rope in the gun cabinet too, if you want to have different options." Natasha takes a sip of water and leans back.

"Don't be an idiot! Do it with style and just jump out of the window.”, Peter recommends without looking up from his smartphone.

"Do a flip in the meantime.", Vision adds and you have to smile.

You love them all so much.

You are finally serving the food. Everyone gets a full plate, so that nobody will be hungry. You just hope it tastes good.

"It smells delicious." Peter smiles and takes his plate from you. Ass-kisser.

"Thank you." You smile back and sit down. The pressure in your legs eases and you sigh. The constant standing slowly kills you. You watch intently as everyone tries.

"Mmm .. you have to give me the recipe Y/N," says Wanda after swallowing. She looks honest and you decide to believe her.

"Is that rosemary?" Rhodes asks and you nod.

"There is paprika in there too, isn't it?" Vision wants to know, because although he can't eat, he still smells the dish.

"Yes.", You answer and also enjoy the homemade food. Now you understand why your family cooked it that often.

"Hey guys!" Calls a voice that is too familiar to you and you roll your eyes. Well, that was still missing. The man in the red suit enters the kitchen and waves to Peter first. "Spiderboy," he greets him and turns to Rhodes.

"How does he manage to get in here again and again?", Natasha whispers to Steve, but he just shrugs his shoulders helplessly. You should exchange a serious word with Friday.

"I get in here because the author wants it that way.", Wade answers her question and turns his head to the side to wink at the wall. You’ll get used to it.

"Just ignore it." Peter whispers to the group and you giggle softly.

"Oh hey, I'm Wade Wilson," he introduces himself and Rhodes just nods in confusion. Then Deadpool looks at you. "I intercepted a package for you, from a certain Thor or something."

You take the package from him and read the note.

As a thank you for your last prank on Loki. Ps. You will definitely get drunk with it.

Grinning, you look at Sam. He closes his eyes theatrically. As a goddess, it's not that easy. The normal alcohol just doesn't work for you, but it looks like Thor has found a solution for you. "It's going to be funny tonight," you say honestly, and Wade gasps.

"Sam Wilson. My brother from another mother. We share the same last name. Is that coincidence or fate?” The huge red condom drops onto an empty chair and they both glare at each other.

"Coincidence," Sam replies firmly and Wade calls at the same time: "Destiny!"

"You can come along Deadpool.", You smile and nod at him. Then it’ll get even more funny.

"If he has to." Sam moans, and you just shrug your shoulders. The others look at the incident with great curiosity.

"Oh! I have the perfect idea what we could do.” Wade claps his hands and you look at him admonishingly. "No, not a threesome, which is high on my list. " He just waves it off. Sam and you sigh in relief.

"We're going to finish eating now and then we'll get ready, okay?" You go through the process and the Wilson's nod agree. Well, that'll be all.

"What did Thor send you?" Clint asks eagerly and wants to grab the package. Amused you flick his hands away.

"That's not for you Katniss." You sit down again and you slowly finish eating.

As Wade talks about his top orgies, you notice Sam's annoyed look on you. Sam and you didn’t like each other at first. You couldn't even be left in the same room. Only after a fun game of cops vs robbers you got along with him. You were a cop and you caught him. You landed on his shoulders and Natasha took a photo. Meanwhile, she had given you advice on how to make him pass out from this position.

"Please go and take the dumbass with you. We take care of the dishes. ", Natasha interrupts the red condom and Vision takes relieved his hands from Peter's ears. He sits with red cheeks in front of the empty plate.

"No problem.", You answer and reach for one arm per Wilson. You clamp the package between your forearm and upper body. This will be the best night ever!

——

With a charming smile, you wave to the cheering people and wink at the cameras. You hear the Czech word for angels from everywhere. You don't know why they call you that. The President puts a medal around your neck and you bow as best you can. Your head is booming and you are still feeling a bit sick. It comes from alcohol. Wade had left before the ceremony and you don't know where Sam is. You don't even know how you got to the Czech Republic. You were in the club with the Wilson's last night and the next morning you are awarded with the medal for bravery for stopping human trafficking in the Czech Republic.

As you understand it, you knocked out the mafia boss with Wade. You freed women and, among other things, girls. You did most of it. Wade just stood on the side and cheered you, though he is the immortal of both of you. You don't know where you lost Sam. What you do know is that you stopped trafficking and prostitution of minors in a European country and people are comparing you to an angel for some unknown reason. Even though you have the hangover of your life, you still look fabulous.

The President of the Czech Republic thanks you with brittle English and you just wave it off. Everyone would have done that, you think. Your cell phone rings and you apologize briefly. With quick steps you run into the parliament and answer the call. "Hello?" You say and raise your free ear with one hand. This dampens the calls of your fans.

"Where are you?" Sam whines and you sigh in relief. He is still alive! You already thought he was rotting somewhere alone. You would never have forgiven yourself for that.

“Wade is home and I am currently being awarded a medal in the Czech Republic. Where are you?” You ask and look around. Outside, the people are still cheering and grinning. They love you.

"I'm in Amsterdam, it looks like we tried to visit Anne Frank's house in the middle of the night and caused trouble. Now I'm sitting in the cell and you left me alone, " he explains his current situation and you take a deep breath. Holy shit. When did that happen?

"Don't worry, I'll get you out of there immediately. Did the press notice anything? "

"No, they thought we were some drunk and homeless people."

Without further ado, you write down the exact address and say goodbye to Sam with the promise to get him out of there. Then you go out again to smile at the people and say goodbye to them. It was a wild night.

——

With every step Sam whines self-pityingly and you roll your eyes. You had just landed on the roof of the headquarters, when you were already overlaid by your friends. They are worse than the media and that means something, because the journalists are like hungry lions.

"What the hell are you doing in the Czech Republic?" Clint wants to know straight away and you shrug your shoulders. If you could answer that, you would surely do it. Asgard's alcohol has it all. It even made you drunk.

"I do not know. Maybe save some life’s?” You ask as a counter question and ignore all the other questions. Clint looks at you with an eyebrow raised. He probably does not accept that. "In my defense, I was drunk."

"That's not a good excuse," Steve says and you roll your eyes again. It was clear that he would have to play worried daddy again, you are doing well and the press knows nothing of the bad things.

"It's okay, my god. Calm down everyone. Nothing bad happened. I wasn't planning to stop the Mafia in the Czech Republic. ", You reply annoyed and Sam next to you starts to laugh. You look at him in confusion.

"You don't remember anything at all, do you?" He asks, laughing at his stomach. You shake your head and peck him in the arm.

"No, I do not. Tell me. ", You demand of him and he pulls you by the arm towards his room. The others look after you more or less surprised.

After a good while you will have all the memories of yesterday evening back. First you three had danced to a club. There you started talking about Hitler, which is why you talked about Anne Frank without further ado. You all then cried on the plane towards Amsterdam to see her house in the museum. You had shouted at the security that they should let you in so that you could finally take revenge on those responsible. Since you were not welcomed there and Sam was arrested, Wade and you blamed Hitler for it. The mafia boss who was up to mischief in the Czech Republic doesn't really have much in common with Adolf, but for you the mustache was enough evidence to fly over there.

On the way you both danced on the integrated pole together with the flight attendant, who was hired especially for Stark's private plane. Wade was of course better than you, although you had proven to be very flexible. It was pitifully easy to find him and you just gave him a few fists. Strangely enough, it was terrifyingly easy to get to him, he wasn't particularly well protected. You handed him over to the police and dissolved the hidden brothels. You're a heroine in the Czech Republic, boom. That’s it. It wasn't really heroic or exciting, but it was funny. Y’all should repeat that sometime.

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