i smell of smoke and gas

I never liked the smell of cigarettes, until you wore it like cologne. 
When your arms wrapped around me I couldn’t help but be engulfed in it. I tasted it on your lips. The smell lingered in my memory, and every time I thought of you I swear it was like you never left.
I wonder if I’ll always associate that smell with you. I wonder if years from now I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll pass a gas station, where someone smoking the same brand as you used to is taking a hit, and I’ll lift my head, wondering if you’re near.
—  v.m
Gorillaz aesthetics

2D - singing in the shower; waking up in the afternoon; walking to the gas station; graphic tees + ripped up converse; rebellion and individuality.

Murdoc Niccals - bonfires; silent crying; lazy sex; motels; neon signs; the feeling of someone watching you; paranoia; visiting old friends.

Noodle - drag racing; gymnastics; smoking; broken high heels; scars; highlighters; swearing; feeling free.

Russel Hobbs - paranormal activity; padlocks; graffiti; high school; winter; burnt out candles; the smell of fireworks; loneliness.

Cyborg Noodle - post-apocalypse; running water; blades; pent up anger; leather gloves; insomnia; dead flowers

You’re Mine, Got It?

Pairing: Mitch x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 4723

Author’s Note: I found a prompt and this is what came out of it! Thanks to @mf-despair-queen for proofreading this for me :) Enjoy babes!


Originally posted by im2old4thisotp


*Flashback*

 

My boyfriend, Dylan, and I were heading to our one year anniversary when it all went down. Someone had run into us, making Dylan and I smash against the dashboard, his head smacking against the steering wheel. I groan in pain, hearing Dylan’s voice, but it’s like I was in a fishbowl, the accident making my ears ring.

“Baby? You okay?” He asks, pushing my hair away from the wound, touching it lightly, making me wince in the process. I nod my head, looking over at him, seeing a gash on his forehead. I see a silhouette behind him and I stiffen.

“D-Dylan, b-behind you.” I stutter, getting lightheaded. Dylan looked out the smashed window, squinting slightly to see the man in the smoke. My eyes drooped, my head laying against the dashboard, going in and out of consciousness. When my eyes were shut, a heard a gunshot go off, making me jump slightly, but stay still. I heard tires squeal, indicating the person drove off and I opened my eyes, seeing Dylan laying against the steering wheel, not moving. I tear up, reaching my hand towards him, shaking him slightly.

“Dy-Dylan? Baby?” I ask, slowly moving towards the drivers side door, gasping when I find a bullet hole burned between his eyes. I begin screaming and crying, trying my best to open the passenger’s side door, but not succeeding. I reach into my pocket, finding my phone and start to dial 911. I hold the phone up to my ear as it rings, taking huge breaths to keep myself conscious.

“911 what’s your emergency?” Dispatch asks me.

“Uh, m-me and my boyfriend were in an accident a-and a-a guy, h-he came out of the smoke and shot my boyfriend. I need help, I’m trapped in the car and I can smell gas, please…” I mumble, pressing my hand against my forehead.

“Alright, ma’am. Where’s your location?”

“Um, Fourth and Broad.” I recite, looking at the street sign that’s positioned to my right.

“Alright an ambulance will be there shortly. Try to keep your eyes open, alright ma’am?” I nod my head then remember that the woman on dispatch couldn’t see me.

“Y-Yes.”

*Flashback over*

Keep reading

Joker Imagine - You’re a cop but also his girlfriend

Originally posted by deathtown

Originally posted by uncertainty4surety

Your P.O.V.

Gotham city was full of criminals and it just got worse during night. I was a cop at GCPD (Gotham City Police Department). I fought against the criminals every day, proudly with a strong will to help my city. That’s before I met my boyfriend, the Joker. Yes, the clown prince of crime, Batman’s arch enemy and so much more. How could he fall for a cop? 

Easily.

I met him when I was off duty. He didn’t even know I was a cop then. We were at his club and we seemed to get along very well, considering we were devouring each other’s lips the night we met. Long story short, he didn’t want to let go of me. Once he found out I was a cop, he wasn’t even mad. Joker knew it was a good source of information.  So here I was in my uniform, drinking coffee and filling paper sheets. I knew more of Gotham than regular people and Joker loved what I could tell him. I loved helping him.

‘‘Y/N!’‘ I heard someone yelling my name. I looked up from my desk and met the eyes of James Gordon, shortly known as Jim. ‘‘Yes?’‘ I raised my eyebrow and fixed my hair. Jim was a very good cop that everyone knew. He was my inspiration when I was younger. ‘‘There’s been an explosion by the bay.Batman was seen and so was Joker. We need to go’‘ Jim told me in a rush. My eyes widened and I felt adrenaline already pulsing through my system. Without words, I stood up and grabbed my coat. Then I followed Jim and I saw his partner coming as well.

We and a few other cops rushed to our cars and started following Jim. I was alone because my partner was sick. He was a dick anyway so I didn’t mind. I turned on the sirens and hit the gas pedal. I’d make sure I was the one to take Joker to Arkham or GCPD. We slowed down at a closed area. I parked my car behind Jim’s and then I got out. I grabbed my gun and loaded it. As I looked around, I saw that all cops were hiding behind something, either their car doors or the edge of a building. I just stood there. Fools.

I heard laughter. I nearly smiled because I recognized the person laughing, Joker. My eyes scanned the dark area but I found my green haired prince quickly. He was standing by a car filled with people. The area smelled like gasoline and Joker had matches. Old tricks seemed to work for him. 

‘‘If you shoot, the car goes boom!’‘ Joker warned everyone. Batman couldn’t do much either because Joker could light the car on fire. I saw Batman’s cape and then I saw the dark knight further away. He stood near Jim. ‘‘Joker give up!’‘ I yelled, shocking everyone because they never believed in me. One of my co-workers told me to shut up but I ignored it. I just wanted my boyfriend’s attention, and it worked.

Joker turned to look at me and then he gave me an evil smile. ‘’Oh what do we have here?’’ He laughed. This was fun, acting like we didn’t know each other. I played the good cop and he played the bad criminal. This was our plan after all. I just didn’t know he’d streak tonight. We both knew if I got promoted, I’d know more secrets of this city. It was a win win for both of us. So we agreed to do something that made me look like a hero and then I’d get the promotion I needed.

The wind made my hair flow a bit. I kept an angry gaze as I looked at J. ‘’Let them go’’ I told him as calmly as I could. Then I stepped closer to Joker very slowly. ‘’Oh where’s the fun in that?’’ Joker pouted and played with the matches. The other cops got nervous now. They thought I would kill these people by my behaviour. Honestly I wouldn’t mind but tonight they had to stay alive.

‘‘You do realize that the second you light that car on fire, 20 cops will put a bullet though you, right?’‘ I asked J and then I held back a laugh. This was too fun to take so seriously but I forced myself to keep my cool. ‘‘Hm,you dare speak to me like that missy. Why?’‘ Joker asked with an angry growl.  I felt Jim’s eyes on me and it made me a bit nervous as well.

‘‘Joker I’m giving you a chance. Hands up’‘ I barked at him. He rolled his eyes and seemed to get mad. He didn’t even bug. ‘‘Y/N back off’‘ Another cop whispered to me as I passed them. Jesus Christ these people were idiots. ‘‘How about we make a deal? I’ll put my gun down and you put the matches down. That way, you won’t get shot’‘ I suggested one of our plans. Joker sighed tiredly. 

‘‘That’s boriiing’‘ He yelled. Batman tried to get closer silently but man I wouldn’t let him take Joker away. I used my other hand to grab a smoke bomb, one that we made at his hideout of course. Everyone thought it was a gas that made it hard to breathe but we changed it a bit. It just looked thick but that’s it. As the bomb hit the ground, a thick cloud of smoke spread across the area. It smelled bad which made people near us cough. I ran towards Joker although I didn’t see him well.

‘‘We should do this during foreplay kitten’‘He whispered as he willingly let me cuff him. ‘‘We’ll see about that’‘ I giggled with a smile. Then he got down on the ground and I just sat on his back for a while, waiting for the smoke to clear. I heard heavy footsteps coming closer and a few seconds later I recognized Batman. He saw that I got Joker down.  No words were changed between me and the dark knight. Then he hurried to the car and let the people out.

‘‘Pretend to be hurt baby. I’ll drive you to the police department and break you out later’‘ I leaned down and whispered into his ear.Then I cuffed his wrists together. Only a couple moments later Jim ran towards us. He seemed shocked once he saw us. Me on top of Joker who was ‘hurt’. Joker growled and tried to wiggle away but of course he wouldn’t really escape yet.

‘‘A bit help here? I can’t pick him up by myself’‘ I asked Jim with a small smile. ‘‘Yeah’‘ He breathed out and put his gun away. Together we pulled J on his feet. ‘‘Jimbo, we meet again’‘ Joker spoke tiredly.  ‘‘I hope it’s the last time’‘ Jim answered and roughly pulled my boyfriend towards my car. My arrest, my car, that’s the rule.

‘‘Good job Y/N’‘ Jim told me as we got Joker inside my car. He pretended to sleep now. ‘‘Thanks Jim’‘ I nodded and then put my gun away. ‘‘I’ll come with you. It’s not safe to drive alone with Joker’‘ Jim offered me kindly. Whatever, it’s not like it would hurt. ‘‘Okay-’‘ I started my sentence but I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and almost gasped once I saw Batman. Did he find out?!

‘‘Jim has taught you well’‘ Batman told me with his very deep voice. I looked in shock as Batman left the scene. I changed looks with Jim who offered me a smile. ‘‘Let’s get going’‘ I broke the silence and got inside my car. Joker laughed a little bit back there but he didn’t try to do anything. Jim got in and then I started the engine, driving back to the police department.

‘‘Pretty girl, what’s your name?’‘ Joker asked after a while. Jim tried to tell him to shut up, but I was quicker. ‘‘I’m Y/N’‘ I replied shortly while keeping my eyes on the road. ‘‘Y/N..’‘ Joker said my name softly. ‘‘So you’re what now? The Jimbo number 2 or his good little student? Huh?’‘ Joker asked me in a mocking way. I didn’t take it personally tho.

‘‘She’s a good cop, Joker’‘ Jim answered since I didn’t. Good cop, yeah yeah. Little did he know. I just smirked as I drove towards the police department. In a few hours I would be the one to help Joker escape, but of course no one would know. Not for now. One day I would leave this job and join the world of crazy criminality and fun with J, but not today.

/Sorry this sucks, I just wanted to write something quickly since I haven’t written in a while. Better stuff will come up soon.

I use to light my cigarettes by gas stove lighters
Inhale poison like it’s my friend
Boys come and go
Friends and family die
But I still go back to the basics
My lips wrapped around a stick of poison that makes me feel safe
Makes me feel sane
It’s a safety blanket for me that feels like home
When I’ve got no where else to go
Nothing else that’s sacred
The sound of bass in my ears and the smell of nicotine
The burn of smoke in my lungs
That
That is eternal

anonymous asked:

Headcannons on what the guys smell like? :)

Okay so I have no sense of smell so I apologize if this is inaccurate!!! :’) I am gonna provide three different scents because why not?


Darry:

- fresh linens

- lemons

- roses


Johnny:

- cinnamon

- pumpkins

- freshly cut grass


Dallas:

- smoke

- peppermints

- leather


Steve:

- firewood

- pine trees

- A MAN! (like manly cologne, just really good)


Sodapop:

- gas (like at a gas station, back when I could smell I loved this)

- cherry blossoms

- charcoal


Two-Bit:

- watermelon

- beer

- ALSO A MAN! 


Ponyboy:

- newspaper/books

- sunflowers

- bacon

You left me the colour of rotting blood on freshly fallen snow
Or the colour of dark rancid rust chipping off walls once painted yellow.

You left me the bitter aftertaste of empty words heavily wrapped with cotton candy promises to fill our hollow chests
Or the metallic taste of crimson lingering within my cheeks from biting my tongue too hard.

You left me itching wrists and tied hands, overfrustrated from pulling at my own hair
Or wild, bloodshot eyes searching for something to replace what felt like slowly pulling teeth.

You left me the smell of smoke from burning torn polaroids in the fire of our charred throats
Or the toxic smell of gas leaking from a stove left on for too long without a flame.

You left me shivering with chapped, parched lips on an early summer morning, alone, unmoving, in bed
Or too numb with holes I dug into my skin to plant wildflowers, too numb to feel the biting cold on a winter night.

You left me a kaleidoscope after promising I’m a jigsaw puzzle so I’d spend the rest of my life trying to piece myself back together.

You left me sunlight filtering through stained glass, standing barefoot on freezing marble in an abandoned chapel, struggling to taste the warmth shut out by my own fear of a hurricane threatening to rage.

You left me scattered.
You left me gasping.
You left me blue.

—  Tamarind Fall
NaPoWriMo day 15.
Ghost In My Pocket

Figured it was time to get something up to help take your minds off of all the shit flying around. Finished this a couple nights ago, did a lot of checking over this morning, just needed the excuse to post it.

Summary: Despite being a first responder, (Y/N) has never lost a patient, and doesn’t have a lot of experience with death overall.

Even so, they’re pretty sure that when someone dies, they’re not supposed to turn whatever room you walk into into a personal haunting zone.

It seems, however, that Lin-Manuel Miranda lives to prove them wrong.

Or, he would, if he was still - you know - alive.

Keep reading

This is more of a fuck workers story.
I live in student apartments in a college town and we have the worst maintenance ever. I submitted a work order complaining of a smell that smelled like natural gas and three maintenance guys came up, asked me if my roommates were smoking weed (they weren’t), saw a bag of trash (that was actually just clothes) and then said it was that. They then put in with management that we needed to clean our apartment because it was so messy (one bag of trash near the door is not that messy), and THEN the maintenance guys put someone else’s trash in our freaking apartment because the bag was near our door (I know it was them, because they are the only ones capable of unlocking the door and locking it back after.)
Anyway fuck maintenance guys who suck

u guys are sleeping so hard on maine gothic 

  • thousands of island dot the coast line, unfound and unknown. so many that people are unsure which are real and which aren’t. Aunt Sarah’s Ledge, Deadman Point, Pound of Tea and Poverty Nub. and the 26 all named Bar. boats blow past them in the night and there’s no sound on the radio. just static.
  • old men, hands as rough as rope, toil endlessly on piers. night after night, their boats docked in the inky water, they hum an ancient tune and grin at the sea as if they’ve seen it’s worst and they know that while nature is cruel men will always be crueler.
  • people say the devil burns hot. up north they say other wise. they say the devil is the open woods, freezing and laughing as you load your rifle with another round. but you can’t shoot darkness, kid. there’s nothing there. 
  • the paper mill is closed. the paper mill is starting up every morning in the same way, the sound of machines whirring to life and the march of footsteps. you throw a rock at a window and pretend you don’t hear shouts when it shatters the glass. the water wheel turns and the paper mill is closed.
  • witches don’t die. they take classes at the university, 13 members of the occult, class of ‘79. they stain grave stones, with feet and hearts, the only parts of the girls that didn’t burn. witches don’t die, not here anyway. they roam the graveyard at night and run surprisingly seamless websites. 
  • there are no billboards in maine. no “hell is real”, no “jesus saves”. so people make do. they paint it on barn sides and picket signs. they scream it from the mountain tops and sear it into your heart. they feel it in their gut, late at night and later still, when the church two towns over burns down and you swear you can still smell the smoke. 
  • there’s a one stoplight town with a grocery store and a gas station that kisses the canadian border. people stare at you as you drive by. you’re from around here. they know that, they can tell by your skin and teeth and smile. from around here, but not from here. not here, not here, for the love of god, not here
  • there’s a car stalled on the I-95. a neon diner sign, never turned off. an old bean factory, a rusted bridge and schoolhouse that hasn’t seen a child’s face in ages. there’s a feeling of belonging, of shells between your fingers and of fear. there’s a signal on channel 6, but no pictures. just static. 
2

It hurts to breathe…

I stumbled upon @ti–ti‘s cool Underpoison designs and a certain line made this pop into my head. “He sometimes throws off his [gas mask] for some reason, and Papyrus worries about Sans.”

Also I kept thinking about cigarette smoke while drawing this and now I need some fresh air lol

Batvillain Smells Headcanons:
  • Anarky: Lynx/Axe body spray and paint.
  • Bane: Sweat and (sweet) chemicals (venom)
  • Black Mask: Tobacco, whisky, and some incredibly expensive cologne
  • Calanderman: New paper and ink.
  • Catwoman: Coco chanel, cat nip, and leather.
  • Clayface: Give you one guess.
  • Deadshot: Gun powder, cigarettes, and self loathing.
  • Deathstroke: Metal, blood, and sweat.
  • Firefly: Heavily polluted smoke, gasoline, and dust. Although it tends to fade when he's been flying around, the heavy wind is good for brushing of scent.
  • Harley Quinn: Face paint, strawberry milkshake, and wet hyena.
  • Hush: Blood, anaesthetic and/or chloroform, and gun smoke.
  • Joker: Face paint, chemicals (laughing gas - probably very sweet), and shaving foam.
  • Killer Croc: Literal shit, guy lives in a sewer. At the very least, just dirt.
  • Killer Moth: Dust, cotton, and sour chemicals.
  • Mad Hatter: Glue, earl grey tea, and mothballs.
  • Mr Freeze: He smells like cold. You know what I mean, when it's freezing outside and your nose stings and every time you sniff it feels dull and dry. Also, faintly of metal.
  • Penguin: Tobacco, whisky, and incredibly expensive cologne that you've never heard of, so strong rant it stings your nose and give you a head ache if you stand beside him for too long.
  • Poison Ivy: Sweetness (I imagine pheromones to be sweet). Aphrodisiacs like strawberries, cherries, watermelons. Plus rain water with a hint of dirt.
  • Riddler: Coffee, aloe vera, paint, and Armani.
  • Scarecrow: Chemicals, dirt, sweat, and fear.
  • Solomon Grundy: Wood, dirt, and dust.
  • Hugo Strange: Prescription medicines, paper, and vinyl.
  • Two-Face: Fancy cologne, cotton, and coffee // gun metal, sweat, shoe polish.
  • Victor Zsasz: Blood, disinfectant, that smell you get when you wash clothes in the machine but you forget to put any cleaning products in with it.
Wood Smoke

Words: 2100
Dean x Reader
Warnings: none, just fluff! :)
Request: Can you write something where the reader falls asleep in the back seat of the impala after a complicated case and starts sleep talking about her crush on Dean… -via anonymous
A/N: a little fluffy one shot to hold you guys over until the next parts of the series come out! Thanks for reading! :D

Your name: submit What is this?


”I thought you said that was going to be a simple salt and burn,” you said wearily. You were staggering back to the Impala, shuffling after Sam and Dean who were both partially covered in dirt.

”It’s never a simple salt and burn anymore,” Dean said gruffly.

”Yeah well, you’re welcome,” you managed through a yawn. “I only haven’t slept for two days and just saved your asses. Sam, you need to get a better lighter…”

Sam chucked his shovel heavily into the trunk. “Apparently,” he said. “Good job, Y/N.”

You waved it off. “Yeah. You guys, too. Another one down.”

Dean walked around to the driver’s side of the Impala, dusting himself off as best he could before climbing inside.

Sam opened the passenger-side door. “You want shotgun?”

”Nah, I think I’ll lay down in the back. I’m about ready to pass out at any moment here,” you replied. “Thanks,” you muttered, climbing into the back seat and flopping down. You sighed heavily. “Oh, Lord have mercy. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a hundred years,” you said, settling in against the leather.

”A little dramatic don’t you think?”

You didn’t open your eyes but cracked a small smile. “Shush, Dean. I’m trying to find my happy place.”

Keep reading

cigarettes

Before I met you I picked up a cigarette.
Gave my reason: I like to kill myself slowly.
I smoked everyday till you crossed my path.
I kicked the habit because I didn’t want to murder the boy I loved most because I wanted to die.
You smelled of smoke anyway.
Your father smoked in the house.
It was enough to stimulate my cravings.
After we split, I stopped at the gas station and bought a pack.
I lit one up and smoked my lungs black,
Just to try to bring you back.
But you never did.
Every day, I sat on my porch, cigarette in hand, missing you like crazy.
You stopped coming around because I failed you.
I was your cigarette, slowly draining the oxygen from your lungs every time our lips met.
My love was a toxic smoke that suffocated you.
I never wanted to hurt you.
You didn’t read the warning label when you picked me up from the corner store.
You just brought me home, tried to fix me up, but you inhaled my secondhand smoke and asphyxiated your mind.
I crushed you into the ground, putting out the dying embers of a love that never was.

Chew the crunchiest foods with your mouth open? Scream on speaker phone every day? I hope you enjoy my new keyboard

This one is short, but sweet.  My office is set up to be nice and open.  We are a small office, consisting of 5 people.  My co-worker, who sits closest to me, has the manners of a wild animal.  She never washes her hands, doesn’t cover her mouth when she sneezes, and makes all of the doorknobs smell like cigarettes from her chain smoking.  The worst of her offenses is her noise level.  She talks to her obnoxiously loud daughter every single day on facetime, for at least 20 minutes.  Her daughter and grandchildren live in Scotland so Facetime it is… on speaker.  Those disgusting creatures (daughter included) will belch, fart, scream, laugh, for the entire chat.  They need some Gas-x in their lives.  I have asked her to go outside to talk because I can’t hear my clients, but she said it is too hot and there is nowhere else to talk other than her desk.  Aside from her conversations, my co-worker also chews the crunchiest foods with her mouth open.  Her mouth sounds as though someone is trying to cheese grate rocks.  We have to deal with these things because she has worked here for 30 years and the boss loves her.  She is also a diligent worker bee.    

My revenge is simple.  I went to Frys (local electronic store) and found a new mechanical keyboard.  Now when she answers her phone, or eats her concrete chips, I start mashing away.  CLICK CLACK CLICKITY CLACK CLACK.  I think the negative reinforcement training is working   because today she went to her car to talk to her daughter.  She came back up drenched in sweat.  Success!

edit:  A lot of people think I smell the actual doorknob… I do not.  The smell is transferred to my hand when I open the door.  Sometimes I forget to wash my hand after, and get a nasty whiff when I go to push my glasses up, or scratch my face.  

Smoke

Request: @hellocapnkickass- Can you please do a Supernatural scenario where the reader is not a hunter and is dating Dean, but does not travel with him.  One night, the reader forgets to turn their stove off and finds themself stuck in a house fire.  Dean, who is a couple of hours away receives a phone call from the hospital and is incredibly worried.  The reader ends up with burns and smoke inhalation but is otherwise fine.  Lots of fluff please. :)  if you could do this it would be awesome! :D

Warnings: swearing 

Tags: @brandinicole911 @everydayrandomlife

***Masterlist***


Originally posted by cursedestiel


“I’ll be back from the hunt soon sweetheart. I love you!” I can hear Dean’s smile over phone. I stir the rice on the stove, trying not to cry from missing him so much.

“Okay babe, I love you!” I say, wishing more than anything that Dean was here with me.

Hitting the end button on my phone I sigh, tonight is going to suck. Dean and I have been together for five years now, and living together for three. I have accepted the fact that he and his brother have to leave for hunts, that they are saving the world, saving me from the things that go bump in the night; it just doesn’t make my nights alone any easier.

Putting on my music to jam out, I head over to the fridge for some much needed wine. Pouring a glass of my favorite red, I start to smell the smoke.

Spinning around, I see the cat jump off the counter. In a panic I drop my wine glass. I feel the shard of glass rip through the bottom of my foot, as I rush to the stove.

The cat was batting around the dish towel, and pushed it onto the gas stove. All it took was a second for the dish towel to ignite, sending it up in flames.

Before I could make it over to the stove the towel fell to the floor. the line of fire spreads as it finds the spilt wine on the floor. I scream as I run away from the kitchen, I have to get out.

I am at the front door, grabbing the car keys when I remember, the cat. “Fuck” I scream. The house is filling with smoke. I take the stairs two at a time, knowing the cat would be in Dean and I’s room; that’s where he goes when he is scared.

Flinging the door open, I start calling his name. “Taz!!” Cough. “Taz! Come on we have to go” I cover my nose and mouth as I cough. I can feel my lungs filling with smoke, as my head feels lighter and lighter.

Getting on my hands and knees I look under the bed. Sure enough Taz is under there curled up, scared. Reaching my hand under I beckon for him to come. He looks at me scared, unsure what to do. I cry out as I feel the heat starting to surround me.

“PLEASE COME HERE!” I try and scream, but the smoke hinders me. Finally, he starts to crawl over to me. Grabbing him, I stand having to catch myself on the bed.

Every step I take towards the door is a stumble, like I am black out drunk. I manage to keep Taz cradled in my arms, he doesn’t fight me, I think he is just as paralyzed with fear as I feel.

Out of our room and into the hall I try and get to the stair case when the floor gives way under my foot. I feel my left foot touch the flames. I scream as I slide backwards, lifting my foot out of the hole in the floor.

I manage to crawl back into the bedroom. Somehow I manage to stand as the flames creep up the walls, the room dark with smoke.

I can feel darkness encroaching. I am going to die. I try and get the window open, ignoring the searing pain of hot metal from the window fixtures. Finally, they open, giving me some much need oxygen.

Throwing my leg over the side, I step out onto the roof of the garage. I thank god that we picked the house that had the garage next to our bedroom.

I stumble on the roof, letting go of Taz. He jumps down off the roof, landing safely on his feet. I am not so luck as I sit on the edge. Out of energy as I fling myself off the roof, onto the grass below, I hit the ground with a thud. Feeling the cool grass on my face as fall out of consciousness.


Dean’s POV:

Sam and I check into the hotel for the night. I drop my bags on the bed, and run my hand through my hair. God I miss (Y/N).

Stripping out of my cloths, I plan to hop in the shower when my phone rings from across the room. My heart picks up, hoping it is (Y/N) again, wanting to hear her voice.

I frown as I see an unknown number flash on my screen. I answer. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Dean?” the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Yes, this is him.” I tense. I get a bad feeling from this.

“This is Sargent Thomas, from the Naples police department. I have some bad news regarding a (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).” He pauses briefly. “There was a fire tonight, that engulfed your house.” My heart stops. “(Y/N) was found unconscious on the back lawn. It looks like she went through the bedroom window, onto the garage roof to escape. She is alive.” I feel the tear slip down my cheek at the news, breathing a sigh of relief. “She is currently at Naples Hospital receiving treatment. She also got your cat out of the house, and he is at Naples Animal Hospital being checked out. Both should recover fully.” I break down, fully crying now. Sam comes over and puts his hand on my back as I give my thanks to the officer. Wiping my face, I end the call and fill Sam in on everything that happened.

It takes no time for us to be back in the car, and on the way home.


Y/N POV:

The beeping is loud and annoying. I feel a pain in my feet and legs. Taking a breath my lungs feel like they are on fire. What happened? The darkness consumes me once again.


Dean. The beautiful green eyes, soft kissable lips. The love of my life. I swear I can hear him. God I would give anything to be with him right now.

“When will she wake up?” I hear Dean say. Confusion washes over me. Who is he talking about? Me? Where am I?

I try and open my eyes to see where he is. I need to see him.

I am surprised by how hard it is to open my eyes. I scream in frustration as I use all my strength. Finally, I see a ray of light. Its blinding. I close my eyes again feeling the burn of the light.

“Did you see that Sammy! She opened her eyes!” Dean sounds so happy and excited, like a puppy.

“I don’t know Dean; I didn’t see anything.” Sam voice sounds tired and concerned, but Sam almost always sounds like that.

“That’s bullshit Sammy, I Saw it. I think she can hear us!” Suddenly there is a pressure on my right hand. It feels warm and comforting. I know it dean’s hand; only he could make me feel this way. “Babe, if you can hear me. Please, please open your eyes. I need to see your beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes. Please.”

I try. I use every bit of mental and physical strength I have and slowly I see the bright white lights come into view.

I feel Dean’s hand tighten and hear Sam stand from his chair. I turn my head, wincing at the pain on my neck.

Dean sit in a chair on my right. Hands clutching mine. A smile that looks out of place with the tears filling his beautiful eyes.

“…” Only a croak come out as I try and speak.

“Hey, hey gorgeous. Oh you have no idea how much I love you.” He puts his head in the nook of my neck. I can feel his tears soak into my hospital gown.

I try and speak again. “wh…” my throat and mouth are so dry; I can barely make a noise.  

“Sam, get her some water please!” Sam nods.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” Sam gets to the door, when he turns around and looks at me. “oh and it’s good to see you awake (Y/N)” I nob my thank you, not even trying to talk again.

Dean and I are finally alone. “You scared the crap out of me.” He sits back down in his chair, clutching my hand like he was afraid I was going to leave.

We sit in silence for what feels like hours. I had so much to say, it was killing me not to be able to say anything.


Sam comes back bringing a nurse with him. She is beautiful and smiling at Dean when she enters, causing my hand to tighten around his. He laughs at me scowling at her, knowing full well I was annoyed with the leggy blonde.

She comes over and does her medical thing, but her eyes and attention stayed on Dean. my blood boils. She finishes her test or flirting with my boyfriend, whatever you want to call it, and brings me a cup of water with a straw.

I lift my hand to grab it, when I “accidentally” lose my grip and spill it down the front of her pants, making it look like she peed herself. Dean burst out laughing, while her face turns bright red. She says it’s okay, it happens sometimes; but gives me a dirty look as she gets another cup of water and helps me drink through the straw.

Nurse “Stay in your lane”, as I decide to name her, leaves. Dean laughs again. “lying in a hospital bed, and you still manage to make sure every girl knows I’m yours.” I give the biggest smile I can in response.

Dean leans over and kisses me on the forehead. My eyes start to feel heavier and heavier. Dean can see my eyes slowly start to close. “you can go to sleep. It’s okay, I’ll be right here.” With that I fall sleep once again, a smile on my face.


Three days later:

I have burns on my feet and legs, along with a giant cut from the wine glass. The doctor also said I inhaled a lot of smoke and my lungs were going to take the longest to recover. I have to take it easy, and walking as much as from the bedroom to the bathroom down the hall would feel like hell.

I can talk again though which is nice. I could tell the annoying nurse all about Dean and I’s amazing relationship.

I am being released from the hospital today. Sam said Dean and I can stay at his house till ours is rebuilt.

Sam and Dean picked Taz up from the animal hospital. He took in a little too much smoke as well, but will be fine, and he really loves Sam’s house.


We are putting our bags in Sam’s guest room when Dean stops in front of me. “(Y/N) I love you so much.”

“I love you too Dean.” I say. Suddenly he drops to one knee. And pulls out a little red box.

“I have had this for a while, I just need the perfect moment to give it to you. But I can’t go another day without knowing you will be mine forever.” I put my hands over my mouth. Tears forming in my eyes. “will you (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) marry me?”

“Yes! Of course I will!” He stands up, and slips the diamond ring onto my finger. Slipping his hands around my back he pulls me close, and kisses me so soft yet so passionate I lost my breath and had to sit on the bed.

Clapping and congratulations come from Sam, who is standing in the door way watching. He and his brother hug, and when I catch my breath he hugs me too. Taz jumps up on the bed, and rubs his head on my back.

My beautiful happy family and I are alive and well.  

The Wait is Over (Bucky x Reader)

Word Count : 8,4k (sorry guys, it wasn’t meant to be this long)

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: You’re a young prodigy of an engineer recruited by Stark. As the months pass, you get cozy in the Stark Tower and befriend the Avengers, becoming an important part of the team as the little genius and genius apprentice of both Stark and Bruce. Unfortunately for you, you get involved in the whole Winter Soldier business, and before you know it, you’re in too deep to turn around. Bucky Barnes got from supporting character to gravitational center of your life.

A/N: This was meant to be SHORT I’M SORRY it all started with that gif and the two scenes in Wakanda, but then I thought “wow I can’t just throw that out there without context” and I started writing like I was possessed by the fanfiction demon and I basically wrote non stop from dawn to dusk soRRY

Two and a half years ago, your life was turned upside down. Back then it felt like a completely normal – yet somehow surreal – day, you had no idea that you would look back to it and realize that it was the turning point of your entire life.

Mr. Stark came to visit you at your college, inviting himself in one of your classes while you were doing a very important presentation. When you spotted him, you started stuttering and forgetting what you wanted to say and you mentally cursed your idol in the five different languages you spoke. At age twenty-one, you were a prodigy of a rare kind. Three years ago you became a doctor in mechanical engineering, and now you followed a double degree in bio-mechanical and military engineering. To be completely honest, your main goal in life was to become the female version on Tony Stark, only at a way younger age than him.

“Stage shy?” Was the first thing he told you after class, when you almost sprinted out, your face hot and red as you inwardly cursed yourself for letting him distract you.

“Not usually, no,” you spun on your heels, meeting his amused eyes, despite the murderous glare you shot his way.

He wore a three-pieces tuxedo, his hands were dived in his pockets in a very laid back way, and a pair of pink shades sat on his nose, regardless of the fact that you were inside of a rather dimly lit building. His tie matched the tissue in his chest pocket, and that fact alone had you rolling your eyes so far back in your head that you got a glimpse of your over-thinking brain.

“Let’s skip the small talk and the part where I pretend me being here is a coincidence and that your presentation blew me away and bla bla bla…” He said, sounding spectacularly cocky. “I’m here for a specific reason, and as you have probably guessed by now – or at least I hope you have, otherwise I would be very disappointed – that reason is you.” He said, rather proudly. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he stated.

“Yes,” you confirmed when he stopped talking for over two seconds. Even Tony Stark had to breath every now and then, who knew?

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, gesturing you to go on and walk with him. You did as he wanted, curious as to what he had to say. “You’re an exceptional person, if I might say so. You remind me of myself, just less cool, obviously.

“Obviously,” you breathed out.

“Look, I proud myself in being the most accomplished engineer in the world-”

“-certainly you are not the humblest,” you couldn’t help but sass, blushing when you realized what you said.

He stopped in his track, grinning in a proud, fatherly way.

“I knew you were a good choice,” he said.

“A good choice?” You questioned.

“Yes, I chose you to become my apprentice,” Tony declared in this very casual tone, looking ahead of him, hands still buried in his pockets, strutting carelessly.

You had now reached the door and exited the dark hallways to be greeted by the bright sun. It was already hot and humid despite being only ten in the morning. Massachusetts wasn’t known to have the best of climates. But there was only one MIT in the USA, and that’s where you wanted to be – other than the Stark Tower that is.

“B-but I haven’t even obtained my degrees yet,” you argued, earning a scoff.

“You don’t need a piece of paper to prove your skills, kiddo,” he shrugged it off. “You, Miss, are a prodigy and I want you on my team, literally and figuratively. You’ll be paid more money than you can spend, you’ll have an entire floor to yourself at the Stark Tower and you will work with the most exceptionally enhanced people in the world. Now you can pretend to hesitate five more minutes before I have to leave for New York. If you want to join, my helicopter is over there,” he pointed his finger towards the lawn in front of the MIT.

Only Tony Stark would land his helicopter on a fucking lawn, completely ignoring the lack of heliport.


*


Working for Stark was dangerous on many levels – sometimes you had to dodge a flying machine of his in the lab, sometimes you had to fight off aliens, it’s good days, bad days. At one point though, he suggested you started combat training for your own protection. Your teacher was the one and only Natasha Romanoff, and after about two minutes of chit-chat and star-struck rambling on your side, she started beating the shit out of you, and you swallowed down your fangirling to focus on the task at hand.

Clint Barton taught you how to shoot, both with guns and arrows, with a daily hour of training which resulted in several bruises on your shoulder the bigger the guns became, and sore fingers from pulling the triggers so many times.

Steve Rogers – God bless America – watched over you as you trained in the gym, always making sure you weren’t alone and advising you in the choice of your exercises to help you grow muscle. He once joked that he would offer to spar with you, but he was so much taller and broader than you that the very idea was comical.

When it was needed, you joined them on the field, not as an Avenger, but as technical help, being their eyes and ears when they were busy fighting off enemies. You were so much younger than the rest of them that the Avengers often treated you like a daughter of some sort, over-protecting their little genius who always came up with cool ideas for new arrows for Clint, or smart little improvement for Tony and Rhodey’s suits. The most affectionate one was Bruce – though he had not much to teach you in the combat field, he was your mentor when you stepped in the Stark lab. Tony was busy most of the time, but you made sure to look over his shoulder whenever he graced you with his presence, trying to figure out what the hell he was building this time around.

Nick Fury, in his very own way, gave you a special treatment. That, you didn’t know how you felt about.

The day the winter soldier targeted Nick Fury’s car you were there, riding shotgun. Your mind didn’t process what exactly happened, besides seeing the huge man dressed all in black, face covered, holding a bazooka, and firing. You were on the sidewalk, your knees, elbows and forehead scratched, your head pounding, your ears ringing. The world was spinning.

“(Y/N)!” You heard your earpiece sizzle. The voice was unrecognizable, but the worried tone alarmed you.

“I’m fine,” you informed whoever spoke to you. A man’s voice. Rogers maybe. “Fury’s car got blown up!” You said, slowly realizing what had happened.

How did you get out of the car? It laid about a hundred and fifty feet from you, on it’s hood, fuming, burning. Soon, it would explode, the gasoline was everywhere, on the road, on the car, in the air. The smell of smoke and gas was filling your lungs.

“I-I think he’s dead,” you mumbled, feeling sick. The man in black had disappeared when the car exploded in front of your helpless eyes.


*


The next time he made an appearance, you were there too. You watched him fight off Captain America easy peasy, as if he was doped on adrenaline. Not that adrenaline would even compete with the super soldier serum running in Steve’s veins. That’s when it clicked in your mind, and you understood.

Natasha was sparring with the Winter Soldier, doing great in defending herself but not so great in taking him down – he was just too strong. The punches and forceful kicks she was throwing his way repeatedly were about as pointless as if she was hitting a concrete wall. You tried to spot Steve among the chaos and smoking engines but he was nowhere to be seen. His shield laid on the ground, still swinging faintly. Chest tight with worry, you could only hear the beating of your heart and nothing else.

“Cap?” You called in your earpiece. “Rogers!” You tried again when all you heard was silence.

You needed to warn him, you needed to tell him! You had it all figured out, and if you were right, this man wasn’t the enemy. A shot echoed through the air, and your head snapped to your left.

“Nat!” You screamed, fearing the worst for your friend.

You didn’t exactly know how you managed to always get in the middle of fights, but you knew that your teammates and friends did their best to protect you and put all the attention on themselves to spare you.

“Nat! Are you okay?” You asked in your earpiece when you almost got shot while trying to run across the no man’s land the road had become. “Somebody answer god dammit!”

“I’m fine,” you heard her whisper, probably hiding from the soldier. “This guy’s tough, we can’t overcome him with just the three of us,” she stated the obvious. “Steve, copy that?” She asked, but there was no response from the super soldier. “Steve!”

“I can’t reach him either,” you informed her. “His earpiece must be broken.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” she said. A groan followed right away. “Shit, the bastard hit me in the shoulder.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted your conversation.

“Ladies, get out of here,” Steve instructed, the unpleasant buzzing of his voice in your ear never feeling nicer than right now.

“Fuck you, Steve!” Natasha told him, both because there was no way she’d ever listen to that order and because she was relieved to hear him.

“Language Nat,” was the last thing you heard before Cap entered your field of vision again, picking up his shield as he ran toward the winter soldier.

“Steve, wait!” You shouted in the mic. But it was too late. “Steve, stop! It’s him! It’s Barnes!”

But he didn’t hear over the deafening noise of the winter soldier’s metal arm colliding with Cap’s vibranium shield. The following minutes felt like hours – it was too quiet, too violently quiet. They fought like true professionals, it was almost beautiful. The punches flew, the knifes danced and yet none of them managed to strike the other one. You had never seen a ballet in your life, but that’s how you imagined it would feel like to watch one.

Warning Steve was out of the question now, but Natasha had heard clear as day and you could see her hiding behind a car, jaw hanging open in disbelief. You had never seen her surprised before.

At some point, the silence grew so thick you felt sick to your stomach and when you looked up, you saw him. The mask fell, literally as well as figuratively, like Tony would say.

Bucky?” Steve asked under his breath, confused.

When you called someone’s name, they usually recognized themselves, their eyes lit up, their heads turned, they stopped in the middle of a sentence to see who was calling them. But none of this happened. James Buchanan Barnes, whose file you had read thoroughly, just like everybody else’s, and who you clearly recognized, did not recognize himself.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”


*


You were twenty-three when you saw him again in the flesh. Two years had passed, your skills improved, your mind was sharper, your status as an apprentice was long behind you and you became a part of the Team, same as Natasha and Clint, both normal human beings with not special abilities apart from the fact that they excel at what they do. It appeared that you were getting better with long shot guns, and knifes – whatever required extreme precision. At some point you dropped the arrows and you asked Natasha to start training you to use hidden knives and to privilege your left hand to throw off your enemies.

It paid off, and you spend those two years secretly helping Cap and Sam track down Bucky Barnes. He was a man hard to find, especially since he didn’t want to be found. But when you did, it was thanks to you. You created a software capable of locating people thanks to facial recognition on a world wide scale, and through every camera at your disposition – including phones and private laptops, not to mention all the security cameras in the world. It worked passed all the security and country borders, it was undetectable and you were rather proud of it, although it was technically illegal and you couldn’t claim the rights of its creation without going to jail for governmental espionage – bummer.

“Steve,” you stated in a much too serious voice. The absence of your usually joyful and light tone alarmed him and his smile dropped. “I found him.”

It took less than thirty minutes for you two to get ready, and jump on the quinjet, heading straight to Bucharest.

“I should go in first,” you said.

It was the only words you spoke in five hours. Only halfway there. It was a ten hours flight. The knives in your hands felt like extensions of yours own fingers. You played with them, sharpened them, even if they didn’t need to be. You were nervous, which was unusual. The man you were about to meet was neither the Bucky Barnes in the files you studied like the Bible, nor the winter soldier who tried to kill all of your friends two years ago. You felt like you knew him, yet you didn’t. It must be a hundred times worse for the Captain, but your common sense told you that Bucky hid partly because he didn’t want to face his old friend. And maybe he would be a little less prone to stab first and ask questions later if you met him first, since you were still a rather fragile looking woman, and you knew that the Bucky from the 1940’s would never lift a finger on a woman.

“No,” he snapped, before apologizing. “Sorry, but I-”

“I know. But let’s play this smart,” you cut him off. “I speak Romanian, I can approach him in public if you want to keep an eye on us. If he sees you he’ll run the other way, and we both know this.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, looking tired as ever even though his face held none of the usual signs of exhaustion. It was in his eyes – you had seen him in his best days, and now you saw the worst. Five minutes of thick silence passed by before he spoke up again.

“Fine. But if anything happens, I’ll jump in,” he said. “He’s more dangerous than y-”

“I was there, Cap,” you reminded him. “I saw it all and at the time I couldn’t do anything to stop him, but today I’m not the old (Y/N) anymore. If he tries anything, I’ll handle it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said gently. “I’ll have your back, that’s all I wanted to say.”

“I appreciate. You know I have yours,” you nodded gratefully.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, showing him you meant what you said. They were veiled with a darkness that wasn’t there the day Tony came to see you at the MIT, when you were still a student. Now you were a soldier, added up to your PhD. In Mechanical Engineering, your degrees in Bio-mechanical and Military engineering, and the now six languages you spoke fluently, you were the most educated and trained member of the team – though Bruce had brute force, he was not combat trained, and Tony relied on his suit too much in your opinion.

The only other person to your knowledge that had stored up as much information as you was James Barnes. Trained and taught for seventy years, he was the most well-trained spy and killer on the loose. He spoke seven languages, knew the time zones from all over the world, could fight off jet lag, he didn’t need to sleep more than four hours a day, he could analyze a situation in a split second and was taught to decode and crack the most complicated of codes. You were thrilled to meet him, and you couldn’t wait to finally speak to him in person.

You hadn’t told anyone, but you found him weeks ago. When you first did, you thought it was a mistake – it wouldn’t be the first time your software found a look alike – and you felt you had to check before disappointing Steve again.

You spent days wondering what to do before eventually coming to a conclusion: you had to reach out to him, that was the only way to be certain once and for all.

You sent him a message – a coded one of course – and you waited, hoping for an answer. It was an extract of the Captain America exhibition at the Smithsonian museum. “Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It took less than two days for him to answer.

Who are you?

“A friend. The Avengers are looking for you.”

Did you tell them where I am?

“No, should I?”

No. Who are you?” He repeated, the words appearing on the screen. You had reached him through his laptop – you knew he’d want to stay tuned on what happened in the world - and hacked it so it would be directly connected to yours.

“We’ve met on the bridge. Special Agent (Y/L/N),” you told him, wondering how much of a bad idea it to was specify your rank;

I’m sorry.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

I’m still sorry.

“Stop apologizing. What are you hiding from? Cap wants to help you.”

He can’t.

“Maybe I can,” you ventured to say. “I want to.”

Who are you?

“I told you.”

Who are you?

“I’m someone who wants to help you. I’m a friend.”

Who are you?

“My name’s (Y/N). I’m an agent and an engineer. I’ve spent two years looking for you. I want to meet you.”

Why?

“Because you’re alone, and you don’t have to be. Because I’m alone, and I don’t want to be.”

Okay. Tell him.

That was the last of it, but you still didn’t tell Steve. You pondered the pros and cons of flying over to Romania by yourself, but you figured the others would notice a missing jet and you being absent from work – because you still spent tremendous amounts of time in the lab, working on new gadgets. So that was out of the question.


*


A week later, you recontacted Bucky.

“Are you okay? Do you have everything you need?”

It was a rather stupid thing to ask honestly, but you gave it a shot.

Define ‘okay’,” he sassed you, and you smiled though he couldn’t see you.

That’s when it clicked. He was in front of his laptop, and so were you. He could see you. You typed line after line of code so quickly it surprised you the keyboard wasn’t smoking, and suddenly, a new tab appeared on both of your screens. It surprised him at first – HYDRA had taught him to use a computer, but it didn’t mean he liked them or trusted anything those machines did.

“Hi,” you said, and it startled him to hear your voice and see your face.

You weren’t anything like he had imagined. Your voice was different too, softer, like a caress. It had been so long he hadn’t heard the voice of a woman, someone who didn’t mean to harm him.

“H-Hi,” he said, eyes wide and his flesh hand mechanically waving at you. You smiled at that and it threw him off. He didn’t look the same as you last saw him – he grew a beard, wore his hair long and a cap on his head. He looked fine, though – as fine as can be.

“'Okay’ means that you’re healthy, not wounded, possibly have a roof over your head and enough food,” you told him in answer to his previous statement. “So, are you?”

“I am,” he said after a while, still staring at you intently.

“Good. I haven’t told Steve yet,” you informed him.

“Why?” He frowned.

You blinked, pulling slightly away from the screen.

“I don’t know, actually. I was… worried that you’d change your mind about seeing him and move cities again.”

Lie.

“You’re lying.”

True.

“Then why didn’t I tell him?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“I’d like to meet you,” you told him sincerely.

“All the more reason to tell him then.”

“I want to meet you alone.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Why do I have to have a reason?”

“There is always a reason. Don’t contact me again unless you’re ready to talk.”

He closed the laptop, ending the conversation there.


*


“Bucky,” you said through the screen, knowing he was in the room. The security camera on the other side of the street had told you so.

“(Y/N),” he said as a greeting. He sat down on the chair, facing the camera.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

There was a long silence. He took advantage of it and studied your features, detailing the slopes and edges of your face, admiring the youth and beauty that characterized you.

“I want to meet you because you intrigue me.”

This time, he felt like you told the truth. All the other reasons you had given him weren’t complete lies, but they weren’t the real reason behind your secret conversations.

“I see.”

“Is that all? You’re not asking me why this time?” You asked, smiling softly. You had noticed how it seemed to relax him whenever you smiled.

“No.”

Talking to him was a real challenge when he acted so cold and unwilling to comply. You had dealt with much more taciturn people, but you usually relied on physical contact to compensate. Which you obviously couldn’t count on in this case. It frustrated you to no end.

When he saw that flash of sadness in your eyes, Bucky wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch you – god knows why, because he didn’t trust himself to touch a soft and gentle being like you. It had been an eternity since he last got to touch – or to be touched by – someone who had only good intentions toward him. He wanted to touch and feel a woman again, to feel the warmth and softness of their skin.

“Please be real,” he whispered to himself and though you saw his lips move, you didn’t quite catch what he said after 'please’.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing. You intrigue me too,” he admitted.

A smile split your face from ear to ear.

“You’ll make me blush,” you replied playfully and for the first time in all the weeks you spent talking to him, he smirked. It was quick and faint, and disappeared so fast that you thought you had imagined it, but something in the back of your head told you that you couldn’t make up such a charming smile.


*


You hadn’t talked to him after that, you didn’t get the chance to. The Vienna terrorist attacks happened and Bucky’s face was all over the newspaper in the entire world, and that’s when you knew you couldn’t hide the information from Steve anymore. You told him, and there you were, sitting in the quinjet, pretending to not have withheld information from Captain America himself for weeks. Pretending you didn’t spend hours sending messages and talking to his former best friend.

You had become good at lying – Natasha made sure of it – but you never thought you’d use this skill against Steve.

“(Y/N), we’re landing,” Steve told you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

A couple hours later, you were sitting at a table in a café, facing a street food market, watching none other than Sergeant James Bucky Barnes, World War II veteran, member of the Howling Commandos and Soviet brainwashed super assassin, buying plums.

“He’s here,” Steve’s voice said in your earpiece.

“I know, Steve. I’m still not sure about the earpiece. He’ll know. I should take it out,” you argued.

It was true, but it was also a lie.

“I can’t help you if-”

“I can handle this, Steve. If I need help, I’ll run my hand through my hair, alright?”

You heard him groan and eventually agree. You quickly threw your earpiece on the ground and stepped on it, crushing it. You stood up, straightened your coat and started walking over to Bucky. You knew he’d recognize you, but he couldn’t be seen by Steve, or Cap would understand. You put your shades on and started looking at the fruits, standing only inches away from him.

“Steve is watching us from the roof behind you, act normal,” you whispered as your brushed against his arm, making him stiffen.

He nodded faintly, his face hidden by his cap.

“You don’t know me. We never talked before, copy that?”

He nodded again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said and smiled , still hiding his face from Steve.

“Good. I didn’t know you liked plums,” you said, taking one in your hand.

“I didn’t know you came to visit,” he replied. Touché.

“Surprise!”

“Is it because of Vienna? It wasn’t me. I don’t… do this anymore,” he said, bringing his lips in a thin line. This time he faced you, entering Steve’s vision – probably.

“I know,” you said. “You should know that we found your apartment. Steve will be there later, but I managed to convince him that it would be a better idea to send me first.”

“Smart move,” he smirked. “Are you going to tell Steve? About us?”

“What about us? Our virtual secret affair?” You chuckled. “I didn’t plan to. It’s irrelevant and it can stay our little secret if you want. Of course if you’re not comfortable hiding it from him, I-”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep it between us,” he cut you off. “So, what are you supposed to do now? Talk to me? Tame me? Convince me I’m safe with Steve?”

“I owe you an apology, you asked me several times to tell Steve of your location and I postponed it until yesterday.”

“You didn’t come all the way here to apologize. Now that you finally see me in person, what are your impressions?”

“My impressions?”

“Yes. Do I frighten you? You do pity me? Am I the monster you imagined?”

This time, you weren’t separated by over seven thousand miles, several countries and an ocean. There was no screen between you and Bucky and therefore, nothing could prevent you from reaching out. That’s what you did. Your hand rested on his arm – his metal one you guessed from his wary expression and the way he stiffened, but he soon relaxed. He had wanted this. He could feel the pressure of your hand, though he wished there was skin to skin contact, it was a little much to ask for.

“I never thought for a second that you were the monster they tried to turn you into,” you said solemnly. “I waited so long to see you in person. My impression is that you are ten times the man you think you are, and I can’t wait to get to know this Bucky Barnes.”


*



You were there when Bucky Barnes overcame the winter soldier after Zemo activated him. You had protested and fought when Steve and Sam wanted to trap his arm in a vice, but they did it anyway. You stayed by his side while the boys talked about what was to happen next. He woke up with a grunt, obviously sore and the pain caused by the memory of what he just did was clear in his blue eyes.

“Bucky,” you uttered his name, and god, he was so happy to hear your voice out of all things.

“It’s me. It’s me…” he said, sounding exhausted.

“I know it’s you,” you assured him, taking his free hand in yours, causing sparks to erupt in his stomach.

It always made him feel funny to have you around. You didn’t know what he was like in the 40’s, you were fully aware of the terrible things he did, and yet you were here, holding his hand at all times. He didn’t deserve your trust, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But you gave him nonetheless.

“You shouldn’t be here. You could get hurt because of me… by me,” Bucky sighed. “You should all go, and leave me here. I can handle myself, I’ll disappear again.”

“I know you can. Thing is, you don’t have to,” you said, smiling gently and squeezing his hand.


*


You were there too when Tony decided to fight against Steve. It broke your heart to see the disappointment in your mentor’s eyes. It was hard to meet Nat’s gaze, seeing her stand behind Tony. It was all so unfair – you didn’t want to fight against your friends, you would step between the two sides if you thought for one second that it would be enough to stop them.

You didn’t fully agree with either side, but if you had to stand by someone, it would have been Tony. Except that you couldn’t. You could stand having to fight Tony, Nat and Rhodey – you had done it before – but fighting Bucky was too much to ask of you. One glance at him and you knew that you were standing exactly where you wanted to be – beside him. The feelings you harbored for him were out of place and the timing sucked beyond words. You kept quiet and fought alongside him, doing whatever was needed to prove everyone that he was innocent, that he was a good man. He was the man others could only dream to become. He was the man you wished to have by your side.

The man you loved.

“(Y/N)!” You heard him call your name while you were in the middle of the fight. By the time you threw a knife to that young boy Tony had brought along, cutting off his web and causing him to fall to the ground, and turn around to see where Bucky was, it was already too late.

Blood ran down his chest from the hole in his shoulder and pain twisted his features.

“Bucky!” You screamed, jumping down to dodge a blast of Tony’s armor. “Bucky! Are y-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He assured you, still grimacing. “Just a scratch, I’m all good, doll,” he said, only worrying you further.

“You took a bullet for me! What the hell?!” You shoved him, angrily throwing a knife to T'Challa who was running towards you – he was all over Bucky since day one, and that made him very unlikeable to you. He easily dodged it, but just when you were about to stand up, Natasha crashed into the King, although they were supposed to be on the same side. She spared you a glance and then she looked up toward something behind you, and you knew she was with you on this. Behind you was the quinjet.

“Get up, we have to get you to the quinjet,” you told Bucky. “Nat’s covering us. Can you run?”

“Of course I can, who do you think I am?” He joked, smiling painfully.

“I expected no less of you,” you told him.

The rest of the fight happened without you, you were busy having Bucky’s back and not letting him jump in front of you to take a bullet. It was easier said than done to run to the engine, Vision made half of the airport fall down on you two, but with a little help from Wanda and Natasha, Steve, Bucky and you managed to make it.

“He’s been shot,” you informed Steve. “You go get us out of here and I take care of it!”

Steve nodded and ran to the cockpit.

“It? I’m an 'it’?” Bucky asked, trying to sound offended, but he was in pain and it was difficult to joke when you had a bullet in your shoulder.

“Shut up, the bullet’s an 'it’, the fact that you’re an idiot who got hurt for nothing is an 'it’, and I intend to deal with that,” you told him, clenching your jaw and leading him towards the staff cabin, searching for the first aid kit.

“What do you mean 'for nothing’, you’re not nothing!”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” you said, gesturing him to sit down. “We’re all trying really hard to maintain you alive, and jumping in front of a bullet – as crazy as it sounds – is not helping,” you deadpanned.

“Worth it,” he groaned when you grabbed a bottle of whiskey in the box – whoever put that here is a genius – and poured it over his wound. “Arrghhh!” He kept his teeth clenched.

“Still think it’s worth it?” You asked, unable to hold back the 'I told you so’ smirk on your face.

“Definitely. You’re worth more than a bullet in the shoulder,” he winced as you started studying the wound to see the damage.

“It’s clean, the bullet’s out,” you said. You were relieved to be honest, you didn’t want to hurt him further while getting the bullet out. “Lucky you.”

“(Y/N),” Bucky grabbed your hand and you froze, looking at him. “I’ve had worse, believe me. I’m glad it hit me and not you.”

His hand was in yours. His light blue eyes were fixated on you, as if he meant for you to understand what his eyes said rather than his lips. Whatever lie you detected behind those shiny eyes you desperately wanted to believe, but how could you allow yourself to do that?

“I- I…” You stuttered, feeling our face heat up.

“I think the words you’re looking for are 'thank you’,” Bucky chuckled lowly.

The tension left your shoulders and you smiled back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Next time just- try to take the bullet in your metal shoulder, alright?”

A genuine laughter escaped his lips and you joined him, feeling lighter than you did in the past weeks.

“I’ll try and remember,” he promised.

“Where did it come from anyway?” You asked, wondering who would shoot you.

“I think it was Nat. She aimed at Wanda, but she deviated it,” Bucky sighed. You gestured him to take his shirt off so you could bandage him up.

Focusing solely on the wound was exceptionally difficult when a shirtless super soldier’s chest was so close to your face.

“Here, all done. You’ll live,” you declared once you were finished. The blush on your cheeks was perfectly distinguishable but being the gentleman he is, Bucky didn’t point it out. Although it wouldn’t have been too out of character for him to tease you with this, you felt it in the air that it was no time to joke.

“Thank god,” he said amusingly, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

He was grateful for having you. Bucky was grateful to have you with him, no matter the circumstances and no matter what he did or said to push you away for your own safety, you were there. You held his hand.

You were one of the very few people who could touch him, and god, how he liked to touch you. Feeling your soft and small hands against his warm skin, that of his flesh arm. And then, there was his metal arm. That one was something else. You didn’t seem to mind, you didn’t seem to be afraid of it – you touched it without flinching. He liked it as much as he despised it, but in the end you were the one to decide. And if it was up to you, you’d never put your hands off of him.

This time however, it was him who touched you, sending shivers all over your body. The touch was strangely light and gentle given that it was his metal arm – honestly you didn’t know what you expected, but when his palm brushed against your cheek, you leaned into it, surprising you both.

“I want to try something,” Bucky told you in a whisper.

You were too dazzled to say anything and simply nodded, covering his hand on your cheek with your own. The air between you two was electrical, you could almost see the sparks erupting. You knew what he wanted to do, and you feared it as much as you craved it. But hesitation was not on the menu.

When Bucky leaned in to kiss you, your breath caught in your throat and you smiled against his lips when they collided with yours. It was a chaste kiss at first, he was testing the water. He was so warm, and soft, like wood. Your hands flew to his hair, running your fingers through his long locks and returning the kiss as fiercely as you could. If you two weren’t good with words, you were damn good at showing each other how much you cared. Taking a bullet was a thing, but this wasn’t anything like it. This wasn’t something you could express with words.

You gasped, feeling his hands wrap around your waist and lifting you up to place you on his lap, one leg each side of him. Suddenly very aware of his bare chest flat against your breasts, you pulled away, your breath erratic.

“Bucky,” you rasped. His forehead was pressed up against yours, as you both regained your breath. “You know you’re pretty well-preserved for a ninety-nine year old,” you laughed, looking down to his adonis-like chiseled chest.

“Ugh, thanks? I guess…” He grinned. “You know, technically I’m only twenty-nine. That’s my biological age.” You smiled at his attempt to rejuvenate himself. “How old are you even?” He frowned suddenly.

“I’m twenty-three,” you shrugged.

Bucky winced.

“What?” You asked.

“You’re a baby,” he said, laughing under his breath.

Your jaw fell open and you shoved him in the shoulder, which made him groan out in pain. Your hands flew to your mouth and your eyes went wide.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!”


*


It hurt to see him like this. It was like sticking needles in your heart.

Bucky sat there, his back to you, his entire upper body leaning slightly to the right since his left arm had been ripped off by Tony. Stark was going down a very dark path and had his teammates and friends imprisoned, he turned his back on you, and you had to quit the Avengers. Actually, there were no Avengers anymore. Just you, Bucky and Steve, here in Wakanda. King T'Challa finally saw the truth and realized Bucky was just a victim, just like his father.

After your little scene in the quinjet, Bucky had handcuffed you to your seat when it was time to search the hydra base where Zemo was hiding. You called him names in six languages, cursed you two reckless friends, screamed and struggled to get free until your wrist was bloody and the flesh open, but you didn’t manage to break free. They might fall head first in a trap and here you were, safely hidden in the quinjet, unaware of how they were doing. An hour or more had passed and worry was eating away at you.

In the end, you didn’t manage to free yourself, and when they came back, they were beat up and bloody, and Steve didn’t have his shield anymore. Bucky had lost his metal arm and you were thankful that it was the only part of him that was hurt, although absolutely horrified. Steve freed you and went back to the cockpit, eager to leave this place. With your open wrist and tears troubling your visions, you crawled to Bucky’s unconscious form on the floor. You put his head in your lap and cried silently, stroking his head as if he could feel it and it would bring him any comfort. It brought you comfort.

“Bucky, Bucky…” You whimpered. “Wake up, Bucky…”

He woke up two hours later, feeling groggy. You laughed and cried at the same time, and for a two weeks, you went from city to city with Bucky, while Steve went back to Wakanda, to negotiate with T'Challa.

It was oddly easier to make him look like a disabled solider with his missing arm than it was to make it look like his metal arm was a real one. You didn’t let him go for one second all the time you spent with him. He liked that. He didn’t want you to let go. As much as he would have liked to know you were safe and sound back home, he needed you with him, and he was glad that’s where you were.

And now you were here, in the white fancy labs of Wakanda, looking at Bucky, dressed in white – you had never seen him wear white. He was talking to Steve – they both looked so sad, it broke your heart.

You watched them through the glass walls, giving them their alone time and waiting 'til they were finished to talk to Bucky in private. Steve eventually looked up, making eye contact with you, and you stood up.

“Please tell me you made him change his mind,” you begged Steve when he walked out the door.

Steve sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

“He’s going under again. He seemed determined.”

You stormed passed him and entered the room in which Bucky sat, facing the cryogenic capsule he wanted to go back inside. He told you a few days ago. Just by the look in his eyes you know some bad shit was about to go sown but you couldn’t have imagined this. You thought it was over now, you thought he would finally be at peace and recover his memory. But no, no. The world would never allow Bucky Barnes to be happy, at least not as long as he was messed up inside because of HYDRA. He seemed calm to you, but you knew better. It was a facade, his way of showing you that he was fine.

“Hey, Bucky,” you soothed, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. It was a habit of yours to signal your presence before touching him, so you wouldn’t startle him, though you were almost certain he could hear you coming despite your silent steps. You nuzzled him, burying your nose in his neck and placing kisses right there, breathing in his scent. You wanted to remember this when he was gone.

“(Y/N),” he greeted you. “Come here,” he grabbed your wrist and made you walk around the medical bed he was sitting on. “I wanna see your face.”

It seemed that he too was trying to memories every feature of your face, every edge and nook he loved to pieces he wanted to carve in his memory.

You huffed. “You want to see a red-eyed, crying girl before going back under the ice for god knows how long?” You asked, already feeling tears build up in your eyes. You swallowed them down. “That’s messed up.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bucky demanded you, a tender smile tugging at his lips, somewhere between peace of mind and distraught. He put his fingers under your chin to make you look up.

“What am I supposed to do then? I’m hurting all over,” you admitted.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m protecting you,” he sighed. He already told you that a hundred times, but each time it lost a little bit of its meaning.

“I get that you don’t want to be triggered again, Bucky, I do. But going under again won’t help either – it’s a way to avoid the problem.”

“Yeah, and? I’ve been struggling with this for seventy years, I’m allowed to put my head in the sand if I want to. I’m free today,” he argued.

“I don’t want to argue with you today. Or ever, actually,” you told him, lip quivering. You would not allow yourself to be weak today. “You’re free, you’re right. If that’s what you want to do, I’ll accept it, but don’t count of me to give up on you like you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to spend every second of your time in this freezer trying to find a solution to your problem. I’ll start studying again if I must, get another PhD in psychology this time, I won’t stop digging until I reach those goddamn triggers in your mind, and destroy them!”

This time the tears ran down your cheeks freely, and Bucky pulled you to him in a tight hug, letting you sob against his shoulder. You stayed like this for a while, until you calmed down, and you kissed tirelessly, stealing away as much time as you could.

“You don’t have to wait for me, (Y/N). Actually, I don’t want you to. You’re allowed to abandon and chose life, and love. Find someone to make you happy.”

You nodded, still emotional. You refrained yourself from saying that you already found that person, because it was cheesy and he’d probably make fun of you. You laughed at that.

“Now smile!” You ordered him. “If you keep pulling that sad face, I won’t let you leave. I want my last memory of you to be a happy one,” you said, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his.

“Alright,” he chuckled.

When you opened your eyes, he was smiling, and you kissed him deeply, passionately. An embrace full of promises you’d make sure to keep.


~YEARS LATER~



Waking up from cryogenic sleep was like waking up from a long, long nap. You were more tired than when you fell asleep. Confusion was the natural response to being woken up in a bright white place that didn’t feel familiar, but Bucky soon remembered where he was. Wakanda.

Steve stood there, next to the two doctors in white blouses, an enigmatic smile on his face. He glanced down to Bucky’s arm and Bucky followed his gaze.

A new arm was attached to his shoulder.

“It’s vibranium,” a warm female voice answered his silent question. He didn’t see her right away, but he heard heels clicking on the immaculate floor approaching. When she walked around the capsule, his breath caught in his throat.

“Who are you?” He asked.

The question had a familiar ring to it, and you cracked a smile.

“I’m a friend,” you said, repeating the same thing as the first time, hoping he’d understand. You hadn’t change that much, did you?

Something in his eyes lit up.

“We’re leaving you two alone for now,” Steve said, squeezing your shoulder as he walked by, followed by the doctors. Bucky was now free to move, and he got out of the capsule, gripping the nearby table to steady himself.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky asked, a tremor in the voice.

“Yes,” you smiled.

“What… h-how long? What’s-?”

“It’s been five years, Bucky. I’m twenty-eight now,” you said reaching out to help him walk to the bed and sit down.

“You’re- you…” he stuttered, blushing like crazy.

“All this ice has really taken its toll on you, ugh? Can’t English anymore?” You asked jokingly, teasing him life you used to.

You had changed quite a bit during the last past years. Your hips were fuller, and so were your breasts. Your hair grew very long – almost like you hadn’t cut them since the last time you saw him – and your features were sharper, thinner. You stood proudly on your heels, wearing one of those classy business women dress that flattered without showing too much. He was in love.

“You’re absolutely beautiful, (Y/N),” Bucky whispered. “You’ve become an even more gorgeous woman,” he rambled, a goofy smile adorning his lips.

You laughed, sitting down next to him.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you replied. “And thank you, Bucky.”

“Remember when I told you to give up on me and find someone else to make you happy?” He asked, frowning his brows.

You nodded, confused.

“Please, tell me you didn’t listen to me,” he begged you.

“Of course I didn’t, who do you think I am?” You made sure to sound offended.

He looked so relieved it made you laugh and you grabbed his chin so he would face you and kissed him.

“And I kept all my promises,” you told him, feeling his new hand on your neck when he answered your kiss. “How do you like your new arm? I designed it. I’m sure you understand why it was out of the question to ask Tony,” you said sadly. “But now it’s all behind you. Everything. HYDRA, the trigger words, you’re free from it all.”

“You did this?” He asked, gesturing around. And you nodded again.

Despite some rough times, you never gave up. Despite days of sleeplessness and restless studying you kept going. With some help from Bruce who never quite broke off all links with you, and thousands of gallons of coffee. Black with one sugar. You knew that’s how Bucky drank it too.

You knew that Bucky was waiting for you here, and that thought alone fueled you and inspired you to push your research further.

“I spent enough time without you,” you declared. “We’ve waited long enough to be together, don’t you think? Are you ready to leave this place with me?”

He didn’t answer. Bucky’s hands where glued on you, you held you against him, gently stroked your arms and back and he nuzzled in your neck, humming softly to himself. It was like holding a child – a tall, strong, ninety-nine year old child with a vibranium arm. He felt so fragile in your arms, he was breakable.

“God, I love you,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through his sentence.

“Bucky,” you worried. “Are you okay?” You pulled away to meet his gaze, only to see his tear stained cheeks and shining eyes. Bucky was crying. And smiling.

“Yes. Yes, of course I am, how could I not?”

Before you could stop yourself, you were crying and smiling through your tears too.

“Good.”

Chew the crunchiest foods with your mouth open? Scream on speaker phone every day?

This one is short, but sweet. My office is set up to be nice and open. We are a small office, consisting of 5 people. My co-worker, who sits closest to me, has the manners of a wild animal. She never washes her hands, doesn’t cover her mouth when she sneezes, and makes all of the doorknobs smell like cigarettes from her chain smoking. The worst of her offenses is her noise level. She talks to her obnoxiously loud daughter every single day on facetime, for at least 20 minutes. Her daughter and grandchildren live in Scotland so Facetime it is… on speaker. Those disgusting creatures (daughter included) will belch, fart, scream, laugh, for the entire chat. They need some Gas-x in their lives. I have asked her to go outside to talk because I can’t hear my clients, but she said it is too hot and there is nowhere else to talk other than her desk. Aside from her conversations, my co-worker also chews the crunchiest foods with her mouth open. Her mouth sounds as though someone is trying to cheese grate rocks. We have to deal with these things because she has worked here for 30 years and the boss loves her. She is also a diligent worker bee.

My revenge is simple. I went to Frys (local electronic store) and found a new mechanical keyboard. Now when she answers her phone, or eats her concrete chips, I start mashing away. CLICK CLACK CLICKITY CLACK CLACK. I think the negative reinforcement training is working because today she went to her car to talk to her daughter. She came back up drenched in sweat. Success!

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stevebucky  asked:

a possibility for your gorgeous middle america star wars au: poe as cross country truck driver

oh no this is so good

ya know how firemen stress the importance of smoke detectors because when humans sleep we don’t smell things? i have one word to say on this subject: SKUNKS. mon dieu!

Originally posted by tana-the-dreamchaser