So i have a bunch of ideas that cant reallyyy be developped into full-fledged imagines so imma start writing short blurbs! i dont even know if im using the term blurb correctly someone correct if im wrong
Imagine newt seeing you for the first time at a book signing…
first met Y/N at a book store. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was
finally published and he was doing a book signing. The day was rather dull,
sure he got to meet fans, but it was only a couple seconds at a time and most
of them only cared about the signature and not him himself.
she walked up.
wide smile on her face, she looked down at Newt sitting and tucked a lock of
her soft hair behind her ear.
She said. One word, one syllable. Yet it for some reason rang melodiously in
Newt’s ears as she spoke it.
was smooth and velvety, one he wanted to hear constantly and fall asleep and
wake up to.
was genuine, simple but beautiful.
she looked was effortless. Her hair wasn’t done in a fancy way, she wasn’t
wearing designer robes. But she looked so elegant in the way she stood, how she
held her head and how her hair rested gently on her relaxes but proud
it’s very nice to meet y-you. What’s your name?”
“I’m um Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. »
the book and added a little “to y/N” on top.
you so much.” She smiled widely.
then the line moved forward and she was nudged out of the way.
moved on slowly, Newt lifting his gaze in between each book to see if Y/n was
through morning, the owner came up to him.
sir, you got a ten minute break. Thanks again for coming in.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Newt replied politely before standing up and stretching.
field of vision, he spotted her again. Y/N. She was sitting on a small couch,
with a coffee in one hand and a book in another.
looked so peaceful, thought Newt. No way in hell would he have the guts to up
to her and disturb her from her reading. And so he went to the office of the
bookstore, helped himself to tea and remained at his seat.
her, unintentionally. His eyes were stuck on her, like any moment not admiring
her was a moment wasted.
so incredibly attracted to her, and this feeling made him feel so weird. He never
usually harboured these kind of feelings toward mere strangers.
a sip from her coffee and put it down on the table beside her, and then she
closed her book and looked up.
color) irises locked with Newt’s. The two smiled, both aware of the tension and
chemistry they felt in the air.
colestevenssalon Actress, singer & author @nayarivera of Glee is the Face and Voice of the #1 Globally Selling Salon Brand for Thicker, Fuller-Look @NioxinProducts. Diane @colestevenssalon styled her with a round brush blowdry for an effortless, organic, lived in hair look using Nioxin Thermactive Protector + Nioxin Bodifying Foam. Stay tuned for more about Naya’s journey from hair loss (after having her baby) and dry scalp TO healthy hair and scalp.
Naturally that was what you wanted when the Commander offered you the information, all the hallowed, conclusive details you could have asked for in neat size twelve font. You would chalk your impulse up to perpetual curiosity that had followed you since birth, inspringing you to closely shadow familial footsteps. The incessant need to have more than what was offered was perfect for your line of work but nowhere near appropriate for to apply towards your personal relationships. You hadn’t earned the privilege of knowing. Not then, not yet.
McCree didn’t deserve to have his life pried into. Reading his file would be a devious shortcut and would rob you of feeling as if you genuinely knew him, the interest steadily growing since meeting. While Genji might have deserved an invasion of privacy so said the tiny spiteful voice in your head, you had known that it was decisively wrong to look.
You studied their names printed along the cardstock before switching over to the Commander, who managed to wear a mask of apathy at just the right moment and lent no opinion that would affect your decision. There was no necessity to have to explain your thoughts as they came to you, you understood that each expression that had crossed your face would be telling enough and there was no real benefit to acting unaffected unless you had been on the other side of the desk as he was. He had already seen them, known the truths printed inside— file and person.
And even in the notion of knowing it was wrong, impulse prevailed. Briefly.
You lifted the cover of the first of the two files in your hand, weeding out words without absorbing sentences. Deadlock Rebels. A number of times. Military hardware, sting operation, apprehended, incarceration. Breath shifted by the weight of the scandalized vocabulary, you hoped to lose what little you had seen in a stern shake of your head before abandoning the file.
Jesse McCree. Not a cowboy, an outlaw.
The offense you felt was blurry, undecided if the blame had settled within yourself for looking or for with him for deceiving you. But then again, he was under no obligation to spill his life story to you within the first 24 hours of meeting and if you were to be upset with anyone it should have been yourself for assuming too much too quickly.
Your voice was stern granted the message itself as weak as an excuse could be, “I think I’ll take my chances with asking nicely, sir.”
The Commander said nothing about it, save for a low, “Understood.” His expression of concentration dropped before he switched to a surprising look of sympathy. Maybe he felt a similar offense towards the moment as well, trying to bait the answers that eluded him to no avail.
You still had your integrity. And that was important— wasn’t it?
Commander Reyes reclaimed McCree’s file by both literally and metaphorically taking it off the table, leaving Genji’s as it was. You were not without wondering if it was because you had only tried to look at the one, that the other was untouched in the intention that you would reach for his as well. You eyed it with caution, fingers absently tapping on the arms of the chair you sat in, in physical resistance.
It was only once the metal drawer of the filing cabinet noisily scraped open and shut, expected by its rusted frame, did McCree’s voice startle you. Any moment sooner and he might have realized the information you had held. You tensed in recognition, looking over your shoulder. He stood in the doorframe, annoyingly effortless hair not yet fully dried from his shower with the ends twisted and damp. In true spite of all that you had seen only a minute before, you tried to ignore paying attention to such fine things about him but the room filled with misjudgment and your cheeks felt warm because of it.
“You rang, Commander?”
No shit perfect timing.
The Commander gestured that he pull up a chair as he crossed into the office, assuming the same look of seriousness you had although the smooth and dangerous undertone had since departed. “We have some important business to discuss…”
McCree settled a chair next to yours with a respectful foot of space, still close enough for you to become aware of his subtle cologne, all comfort and familiarity of a campfire but mild like suede. You were afforded no tip of his hat but a sly, assumingly private “howdy” as he sat, cape neatly tucked under him and adjusting to lean comfortably with carefree posture. Any fatigue he had carried earlier had been washed away, warm water and privacy having eased it out of his muscles. “And what might that be, Commander?”
“Well, I would show you, but—”
McCree instinctively made a loud sigh, repeating, “But.”
The Commander was crisp and careful, all too much like a parent scolding their misbehaving child, “But— we’re gonna have to reach an understanding here first, won’t we? One surefire way to get me good and pissed off is by barging into my office like it’s amateur hour and talking like that. Remember who you’re dealing with and where you are. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yeah, crystal.” McCree pulled a leg over the other knee, balancing it easily. The shower had energized him but the conversation wore away at him, early as it was. “So what’s all the fuss about?” He looked to you first, but you could offer him nothing, the true nature of your meeting unknown to you as well. McCree pursed his lips thoughtfully and arched a single eyebrow until he made a face that mirrored your inner confusion perfectly.
Reyes paced behind his desk, facing the flag. The morning sun, still climbing to its height in the sky, infiltrated through the slats of the angled blinds and pale strips of light sliced through his back. “I need everyone on their best behavior. Especially now.” To you the voice was flat and authoritative but McCree had just enough history to know there was decisively more, trained like a bloodhound to sniff it out.
“Save your lecture for Fluffly. He deserves an earful—”
Reyes held a hand up. Even you knew it had meant stop talking.
McCree hushed himself, then pressed a distracted stare towards you again. He mouthed, “What happened?”
You sharply whispered back, more movement of your lips than any discernible sound, “I have no idea.”
“Commander Reyes?” McCree asked again, voice full and deep as you had known it to be. The hand that had been held up dropped at the noticeable concern towards the rarity it was for McCree to use his full formal title. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”
He responded with a fortified, mathematical silence.
“Commander Reyes?” Relented almost instantly, McCree tried again.
The Commander’s wide shoulders slumped and the gesture had only secured slow resignation to what he had been silently drowning in— there was something very wrong, indeed. McCree seemed to realize this before you, understanding as sharply and clearly as if it were written on the surrounding walls. He took his hat into his hand and with obvious scorn woven into his voice, approached a demand, “Damnit, what aren’t you tellin’ us?”
A second imagined eternity passed before the Commander folded his arms and directed his stare into the ground, noted by the stoop of his head and neck. Even though Reyes had made a point of telling you how he had been able to go to sleep at night, he sounded as if he hadn’t a moment of rest in years, “We may have been compromised.”
Compromised, a word like interesting, was vague and full of opportunity. There was an instant instructional shift that came along with the message as if someone had gone and smashed in the window pane, leaving the room to swarm with biting, snapping arctic wind.
McCree rose to his feet, cape spilling back justly around his frame in his sharp movement, “I think we’re missin’ a few details… Exactly how might we be compromised?” His gloved hands clenched and gripped at the air about his sides, telling of the emotions that pulled him into action.
Commander Reyes had found his seat once again and only settled back in his chair at McCree’s stance, reassuming the part of unbothered leader and not allowing himself to further succumb to the mounting tension in the room; precisely why he was the head of the organization and sitting where he was— he could shoulder it.
“Fix your tone. Now.”
McCree looked wounded, clipped by the firm voice that shut him down after having considered his tone well justified, “Commander, with all due respect,” it rolled out, he looked as if he could have been wincing, “If we’re in trouble here and you think not tellin’ us all that you should is best then you’re wro—”
“I have finite patience, Jesse.” Said again with a reflexive disciplinary tone, without even having to open an eye or make a face to match the voice. “You should know this better than anyone.”
It pained McCree to sit back down.
It was your turn to try next so said the shy desperation in McCree’s flickering awareness, his worry was transparent then. Your voice, unsure, rose anyway, “Commander, is there anything you can tell us?“
He clipped out, “What I’m supposed to tell you and what I’m going to tell you are two very different things. What I’m supposed to tell you is nothing at all. What I’m going to tell you is that as of now it’s unconfirmed. So, that means I don’t want or need either of you losing your heads over this. Not until we know for certain. Is that understood?”
You turned completely to face McCree’s profile, the searing sharp voice matching what you saw in his eyes, “You know far better than I do that the threats ain’t never empty—”
Reyes growled, “I know you don’t believe I have the situation under control but get it through your skull, kid, we can’t do anything just yet—”
“So, we do nothin’? Like damn sittin’ ducks?” McCree’s hands, since firmly gripping onto the arms of the chair, had him subconsciously pulling himself forward and shrinking the space between where he sat and the solid slab of wood that separated the two of you from Commander Reyes. “And suppose we’re ambushed again, huh? What if we lose more soldiers—”
More was the word that forced the moment. Reyes leaned forward, pressing his fingertips to the desk, challenging McCree with a curl of his lip as he interrupted, “Alright! Here’s what’s going to happen…”
You could recognize the tender, biting sarcasm immediately.
“First, you’re gonna get up out of that chair and march right the hell out of my office. Continue on down that hall until get to the doors. Keep walking. Once you get outside, you’re gonna take a breather and you can come back when you’ve got every last bit of that attitude out of your system. I get enough of it from your best friend Red that if I start seeing it in you…”
But no threat followed, just the empty space that promised a consequence that was better left unmentioned. His instructions were no less effective because of it.
Even you felt embarrassed for the out of character shame that folded McCree’s brow. He put his hat on, hiding his expression, just before turning his body and pushing himself out of the chair in one swift movement.
As he left and without another word uttered from anyone, the Commander pointed a finger in his direction as you looked to him for some hint of what to do. His eyes were polished with an exhaustion you had not noticed before.
You took it as your signal to leave as well.
McCree lit a cigar before he had even stepped outside, seemingly unable to wait the last few steps until he was free of the confines of the hallway. Both hands were bent to his face; in one glove a gold lighter, the other cupped to provoke the flame. He pushed against the door when he reached it with the side of his body, releasing the mechanism and only pausing his hurried stride to hold the door open— leaning on it until you stepped through. You thanked him and he nodded his head in return, trailing after but then passing and leading, seemingly still bent on his own stubborn path. The door shut with so much force that it echoed throughout the empty yard before you, rolling excessively out into a barren infinity.
His boots ground over the asphalt as he walked, kicking up sand and debris. The paint-marked tracks were faded and hinted at the sheer age of the base Blackwatch had decided to take up temporary residence in.
The first few puffs McCree took of his cigar were not savored but obscene in their desperation. It was not until he stopped walking, pressing his back against the time-worn brick— a corner, no windows angled in the direction, markedly a safe place to indulge— did he find anything enjoyable in the vice. It moved from an automatic action to a divine ritual, the smoke assuring him that he would be okay. His careful, practiced etiquette hinted at how many cigars had come before, proof that they had not been reserved for special occasions as you had previously believed them to be. In that same vein, you were not about to mention how tobacco was prohibited and only allowed him his needed silence, met by grey wisps of smoke as heavy as the look on his face.
It was the wrong time to start considering how attractive he was but the thought, like impulse, had its own agenda which was blessedly unrestricted by logic.
His cape flicked up over your side in the wind, soundlessly assuring of his proximity and how he had been astonishingly vigilant to not allow the slightest of smoke in your face. You pulled the zip and hood of your sweater up, the false promise of the sunny weather giving little warmth. It was still damn cold.
A shudder broke through him, ambiguously brought on by either the chill or his own irritation, causing him to exhale too quickly. When he spoke, his voice was ragged, “I wish he listened more t’me. I know what I’m talkin’ about.”
You nodded slowly, trying to better understand the feelings he was releasing just like the smoke, burning away his irritation until the situation felt manageable once again.
“You ever respect someone so much that y’stay quiet even when y’know they’re wrong?” A flicker of something passed over his face.
“Sure,” you spoke slowly and nodded again with more meaning. It was a common incidence when you belonged to anything that fell back on a hierarchy— be it a crime family or a military operation.
“I guess that’s what’s expected, huh? Especially in a place like this…” He sucked in, tight and painful, holding it. The taste diffused the tone in his voice, smoke leaking out of his mouth at each new word, “I can usually keep t’myself but he’s wrong this time.” Another puff, another moment of contemplation. “Dead wrong.”
His sudden conviction had you stall for words but McCree was considerate to your silence, knowing he had unloaded more than what was fair for you to answer and so changed the subject to something more manageable.
“You gonna tell Pita about this?”
Not the conversation, the cigar. As if that had suddenly cropped up as the more pressing matter of the two. He gestured to it with, ill-behaved as ever as his lips pulled into a closed mouth smirk around it.
“Am I going to tell Pita about what, Jesse?” You really needed to stop with the way you said his name. “I don’t see you doing anything worth reporting…” Well, aside from the constant and relentless flirtation.
“Ha,” He breathed, an absurd sound of innocence, releasing fine tendrils of silver into the air, “I knew you were a good one when I first saw you.”
“A good one?”
He hummed and rolled tension out of his shoulders, smiling to himself.
The coarse grass rustled around you in a sudden breeze as the direction shifted. The uneven burn from the wind shortened his time with the cigar; he knew his session would be cut short. “Tryna savor these while I still can but the wind is makin’ that damn near impossible.”
“Where’d you get them from anyways? I can’t imagine they’re easy to get a hold of all the way out here.” Out here, better known as the middle of nowhere.
“Used to get my whiskey and cigars from ol’ Sal, under the table. But, he ain’t with us anymore and neither is our old base. All my supplies have been dwindlin’ out since.” He paused as if he had startled himself by the sudden feelings that crept up alongside his casual mention. “I’d give it all up t’get Sal back, he was funny as hell and the only one I’d trust to get the good stuff, but the undertaker don’t make deals like that… Anyways, I only have a few left but if you ever feel up to it, you’re more than welcome. Suppose I’d even give you my last if y’asked for it.”
You felt more than you wanted to towards him saying so, the kindness of his gesture was not lost on you. You knew he would and that awareness only served to make you feel worse for taking a peek into his file. Deadlock. Deadlock. Deadlock.
“I think you’d appreciate them more than I would.” You weren’t about to deprive him of one of his last joys, forbidden as it was. You closed your eyes to the skirls of wind, suddenly attacking the both of you before asking, “What happened to the last place? What happened to Sal?”
McCree took a long, fortifying inhale, holding the smoke in his mouth and exhaling while baring his teeth for half a moment as he settled on the words, “We don’t mention it. I did. Shouldn’t have, but I got mad. Real mad.” You noticed the subtle bend of his eyebrows, “It’s all nothin’ but bones ’n ash now. The base and Sal.” He looked to you then with an emotion you had never quite seen him register before as the cigar shifted to his hand. You sat in preserved silence, not about to dig but take only what he offered.
He put the cigar back to his lips and spoke through it. “The whole damn place was blown up,” he tried to sound detached but his voice cracked just enough to lend the emotional devastation it had been— or, still was. Your stomach dropped for him, you felt your expression shift appropriately. McCree seemed to understand, if not appreciate as well, how you appeared to consider the weight of what he had mentioned.
“Fluffy wasn’t there for it. He was dropped in our laps just after it all happened. I wanna put him in his place for actin’ out and makin’ things so hard when we’re mournin’…” His gaze shifted, deciding eye contact was a little too direct and honest for the topic. “Lots of these ones, back inside, don’t know a thing about it. Pita wants to keep it that way too, but…” His voice fizzled out. You imagined it was close to cracking again with emotion.
“But… you think we’re going to get blown up.”
Gently and expertly, he rolled the bone white end of the cigar over the asphalt, standing in place of a proper ashtray; the prohibition of the action forced him to become an expert of improvisation. His voice deepened as he did so, absent of cheer, flicking from carefully nursing it to meeting your gaze again, “Well, can you blame me for thinkin’ that?”
You were quiet for a time, the look in his eyes of comprehensible anxiety forcing your own voice to change before you breathed, “No.” It was absolutely reasonable given the circumstances.
There was a long pause before he said anything else. He finished smoking his cigar, possibly relenting that he had only been carrying the one.
“Should we go back?” You asked, knowing that your return to the Commander’s office was inevitable and that there was no real decision to be made except for stalling. He nodded, grunting in compliance as he pushed himself away from the brick. You moved alongside him, if anything, you in the lead due to the heavy reluctance in each of his steps, as if begrudgingly trudging his way to detention.
“One last thing, Jesse…”
“… I get Fluffy, but, what about Pita?”
He looked over his shoulder as he moved, knowing full well you were alone and that there was no one remotely close enough to hear. His voice still dropped to indicate that it was a secret that he was about divulge, eyes sparking once more, “Don’t you go tellin’ a soul now, it’s between you ‘n me.”
“Alright, fine with me.”
“It stands for pain in the ass.”
You laughed so suddenly that it came out first as a cough before affirming, “You’re ridiculous.”
Ridiculous, yes, but no less endearing.
“Look, I ain’t above askin’ for a pinky promise here…” He held up a leather wrapped hand, all fingers except for the one curled into his palm.
“Is that a cowboy thing? Pinky promises?”
He stopped walking, you realized a step or so after and swung around to face him.
“Keen on findin’ out how we do things where I’m from?” His false-challenging look was firm for only a second, staring down his nose at you, until something cracked and he fell flush into a wicked grin. He stood as if he were engaging you in a showdown, eyes both excited and animated; there was nothing between you that was even remotely like his hostility towards Genji.
“Well, Jesse, I reckon I am.” You attempted his jargon at the cost of your cheeks twitching to contain a smile. It worked for a few beats only to fall apart completely when he began shaking with laughter.
There was no foreseeable end to his or your teasing, apparently. But, that was accepted, and maybe worse still, appreciated above all.
McCree carefully plucked his hat off while resuming his slow saunter towards the office, dropping it on your head as he passed in a show of his unspoken admiration towards your attempt. He stretched his words out— smoothly but sweetly, “Y’know, I’m a bad influence on you.”
As Requested: Workout Hygiene and Beauty Routines! 👟💦💅💄
cleanse with a gentle cleanser
if working out at the gym: moisturize with a non spf moisturizer
if working out outside: moisturize with a spf moisturizer
I didn’t previously wear makeup to the gym but my skin got quite bad recently (due to poor skincare routine - will talk about later) so I sometimes put a dab of concealer on especially red marks.
I leave other pimples/eye bags alone - just cover the healing red spots from popping pimples that stick out like a sore thumb.
I’ve also started applying soft eye makeup to enhance my eyes (bit of dark brown shadow in the upper eyelid crease with a small line of eyeliner on the top outside corners of my eye, and along the upper waterline) as I’ve noticed it makes me feel super put together at the gym and is awesome for post gym selfies!
no mascara so removing is a breeze. which brings me to…
I jump in the shower! but of course its never as easy as that…
I use a gentle cleanser to get rid of all of the sweat/concealer and most of the eye makeup
then I just wipe the excess makeup under my eyes post shower and leave the remaining makeup above my eyes for the rest of the day! it leaves my eyelashes looking really long and black and looks like a totally effortless smokey eye!
I then moisturize with a gentle moisturizer all over, followed by an antibacterial moisturizer along my hairline, on pimple threatening areas, and on the back of my neck/upper back. prevention is key!
For my body I first use a soap bar - as they remove more bacteria than most body washes.
I then (if I’m not being lazy) use gentle moisturizer to nourish my skin after being stripped from the soap.
Since my hair is so long, I don’t always wash it after - it depends on how sweaty I got/where I am in my hair wash cycle.
If I got very sweaty all over my scalp, or it has been about 2-3 days since I last washed it, I’ll wash it.
If I got semi-sweaty but just washed it yesterday, I’ll clip it up and only wash the sweaty bits- around my face and behind my neck and ears.
For shampoo I use any brand and focus on lathering my scalp (not actually the easiest task) but make sure you’re getting to the scalp and not just the hairs above it.
For conditioner, again I’m not loyal to one yet :) I focus on applying to to the ends, but apply it all over my hair even my scalp a little bit. Shampoo can be so drying, and stripping it from all moisture is pretty rough, so I let the conditioner apply a little bit back. think about it - you can either wash it more often (2-3 days) and apply moisture to your scalp each time so its clean and nourished and not over producing oil, or wash it less often (3-4 days) and not apply moisture to your scalp, but this is still stripping it and waiting for your body to produce sticky oil to make it nourished again. I know which I prefer!
I then use a wide toothed comb to comb out knots, then a thinner toothed comb to make sure every strand of hair got nourished :)
Then I leave it in for 5 mins before rinsing with cold water to lock in the moisture and keep it soft :)
This is different for everyone, but my hair type is long, thick, brown but highlighted-to-blondish hair.
I leave it in a towel turban for about 5 mins to remove excess water.
Then I apply a leave in treatment and (leave-in) for -10 minutes depending on whatever I do in that time (find an outfit for the day/check emails)
Sometimes I just leave my hair to dry naturally, but its kind of like Russian roulette as to whether its gonna look cute, or look like Hermione from earlier harry potter films (still cute, but not the cute I’m going for)
So if I decide to dry it, I always first spray hair protector all through. Make sure you’re hair protector is good quality - some have oils in them that actually cook your hair if you apply heat! so props best to find one that makes your hair soft afterwards, not burnt.
Then, after combing out any knots, I dry it to the bone - no moisture leftover otherwise we’re back to Hermione again (sorry Hermione, again, just not the look I’m going for)(why do I feel the need to apologize to a fictional character) ok back to drying hair - I find clipping up sections helps a tonne here (must-not-pun) and allows you to dry the roots without burning the top layers too much.
Once dry, I style. different for everyone, but one time my hair dresser put curls in my hair for my birthday and since then I’m addicted. they look super cute and bouncy on the first day, then drop and look even better on the second, and then on the third it looks like long natural waves. It is a bit of effort on the first day, but being able to just wake up on the second and third, even fourth, with effortless soap opera hair is fab!
I do it in 3 sections: bottom, middle and top
I first clip up the middle and top sections so I’m left with the bottom third, part in the middle and bring the sections to the front on each side and apply more hair protector, comb out any knots, and curl in the direction away from my face. this opens your hair out and back which I find looks better than curling in towards your face :)
I then repeat for the middle and top sections, tying the already curled sections behind my head to keep them out of the way and avoid mixing sections.
And voila! ready for the day!
This looks like it takes a lot of time but I can assure you that’s just my writing style and me going off on tangents haha. Takes about 30-50 mins to go from sweaty beast to effortless beauty, depending on the extent to which I wash/style my hair.
Hope I helped! and let me know any other workout/routine/vegan/beauty related stuff!
Disclaimer: all products I use are vegan and not tested on animals. Even if I say “any product” I mean any vegan & not tested on animals product. :)
@colestevenssalon Actress, singer & author @nayarivera of Glee is the Face and Voice of the #1 Globally Selling Salon Brand for Thicker, Fuller-Look @NioxinProducts. Diane @colestevenssalon styled her with a round brush blowdry for an effortless, organic, lived in hair look using Nioxin Thermactive Protector + Nioxin Bodifying Foam. Stay tuned for more about Naya’s journey from hair loss (after having her baby) and dry scalp TO healthy hair and scalp.
Based off this request. Plot: Bucky has a nightmare, and the reader sings to him to help him fall back to sleep. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 727 (a little shorter than what I’ve written before, but still v fluffy) Warnings: None :)
At first, you weren’t sure if it was just your imagination, or actual whimpers from the room next door. After the first ear-piercing cry lets out, your feet are on the floor in record time, sprinting to Bucky’s room.
He’s having a nightmare. You find him curled into a tight ball, knees to his chest, and shaking. Sweat covers his arms and legs, soaking the shirt he’s wearing along with the sheets surrounding him. Well, the ones that are still on the bed, at least. His breathing is uneven and quick, with low whimpers breaking up the screams.
You rush to his side and start shaking him. “Bucky, Bucky! Please wake up, please!”
With a few rough shakes, he comes to, flailing his arms before he realizes where he’s at.
“(Y/N)…” Bucky’s eyes are wide, focusing in on you. He’s scared.